by Pam Uphoff
Perhaps that was one reason she hadn't seen through Ricardo's illusion immediately. That 'Godlike Presence' of Xen's would be hard to fake, and Ricardo's wasn't fake. But what had he been doing at the Crossroads?
"Hi Flare, your help run away again?"
Flare looked unusually frazzled and the kitchen messy. "Kipp's off to wizards' school again, Nighthawk and Lapwing are getting more witch training and Harry's gone to Ring World to see what is going on. I guess Xen said something about some of those Arbolian Little Gods living there. Ladybug is beside herself with worry."
"Humph. Half the people we need to interrogate have escaped." Quicksilver wandered over to the sink and started washing dishes in water that was suddenly steaming. "Two nights ago, when all the miners were here. I suppose you were too busy to look out very often . . . I don't suppose Xen was here earlier? He would have noticed . . . no? Okay, I'll ask Kipp, when I see him."
Deena picked up a towel and started drying and stacking the dishes.
Flare grinned her thanks. "Careful, Deena. Working in the Tavern is one of the marks of a Real Witch."
Deena stuck out her tongue.
"Q's recruiting a Triad, you know." Flare's brow crinkled. "Wasn't Teri going to come by this week?"
"She'll probably be here tomorrow." Quicksilver shrugged. "She's got so many knots inside her head, I'd like to kick her mother's sorry rear." She finished the plates and tackled the bowls.
"Do you really want her in your Triad? Wasn't she running around with Ricardo for awhile?"
"Still is; she gave him an alibi for Rebo's murder. We don't know if she was lying or fooled." Quicksilver frowned. "She's been watched, since then." She handed Deena the last bowl and started in on the silverware.
Looking at the sparkle, Deena wondered what sort of magic spells enhanced cleaning.
"Poor thing. And what a disastrous man to fall for."
Ladybug tottered through the kitchen door with a tray full of dishes. "Help! They just keep coming! Three more tables full!"
Quicksilver grabbed the teetering tray and placed it on the counter. "Did they say what they wanted to drink?" She quickly assembled three baskets of bread and butter, and hustled out with them. She was back in a second. "Wine all around, grab the glasses, Ladybug, I'll get the vino."
She was in and out of the wine cellar in a flash, three bottles in one arm and grabbed a corkscrew as she passed through.
Deena finished drying the silverware and was wondering how Quicksilver had gotten the hot water to wash them when Ladybug scurried back into the kitchen and turned to peek through the mostly closed door.
"Flare! Quicksilver just threatened to chop up an officer for dog meat if he didn't keep his hands to himself!"
"Old Gods! You'd think the soldiers would know that Harry's staff doesn't tolerate things like that except when they are soliciting things like that!"
Deena snorted in amusement, and stepped to the door to look over Ladybug's head. Quicksilver seemed to be opening the third of her bottles of wine, so apparently the offender had been intimidated into better behavior.
Quicksilver stalked back to the kitchen. "The young Lords on their two year rotations have arrived. Let's all rejoice!"
"And feed them." Flare said. "Their choices tonight are rack of lamb or grilled skewered giant lizard."
"Goodness, is Havi exporting lizard?" Quicksilver headed back out.
"Yes, and some people are actually brave enough to try it."
Ladybug watched from the door. "First table is four lamb . . . second, two lamb, two lizard . . . third, three lamb, one lizard."
Deena figured they had some sort of hand signal system. By the time she was done, Flare had four plates of lamb dished up and Ladybug took the tray out. Quicksilver took the second tray, and Ladybug the third.
Deena watched in frustration as Quicksilver filled the sink with cold water then waved a casual hand at it, bring it momentarily to a boil as she added soap and dirty dishes.
A shriek brought them all around and crowding out the door. Ladybug thrashed on a laughing officer's lap. Deena started to open her mouth, despite being out of uniform, she had seniority over the nasty little piece of . . . Quicksilver reached him and did something to his little finger that had him releasing Ladybug, standing up to keep his finger from being broken and was being escorted out the front door and out onto the road, his arm at an awkward angle.
"This is not a whorehouse, Lieutenant. Do not come back until you are prepared to behave very politely to everyone." She released him and turned away.
He drew his sword, and flicked it at her. Not a dangerous blow, but a painfully stinging one—if it had landed. Quicksilver sidestepped it, and turned to face the man. "You had better put that away, before you get hurt."
He curled a lip and advanced on her.
She pulled her sticks out of nowhere and danced forward to meet him. She crossed the sticks and caught his blade between them, lifting it so she could step in and kick him, grab him and lever him over her hip and dump him on the ground. It all happened so fast that even Deena, who'd seen experts at work—who was an expert—barely followed it. Can you magically enhance your speed of reactions . . . and movement, and thought? Is this why Xen is such an incredible swordsman?
The young lieutenant had parted ways with his sword, and Quicksilver kicked it further out of his reach.
Quicksilver stepped back and gave the Lieutenant room to get up. When one of his fellow officers stepped up behind her and reached for her shoulder, she rapped his knuckles without even looking around. He jumped back, shaking his hand angrily.
Oh, these guys just do not understand who they just attacked.
Good thing she's such a nice young lady.
The man on the ground rolled over and charged at her from a nearly prone position. Quicksilver dodged, popping his ear with a stick, then tripping him, twirling to break the nose of a third officer trying to grab her, and jumping back in time to boot the first man in the butt and shove him back onto the street.
"All right, now you just stay down until I tell you to get up."
The regulars were snickering. The new lords were muttering to each other. Two of them stepped in, not to grab the prone man, but rather, Quicksilver.
She sidestepped as she dropped her sticks back into her pocket, and the first officer's grab turned into a sprawl. His friend got a toe to the belly that folded him over. There was a concerted movement toward Quicksilver . . .
Deena snapped her mouth shut, and decided to let the young lords get educated the old fashioned way.
Quicksilver danced around the loose circle the spectators had formed, hitting anyone who interfered, while not allowing the first fellow to rise. Curses and yelps, but very little blood.
She's pulling her blows.
Some of the regular troops were cheering Quicksilver, some were trying to get the new officers to stop attacking her. And gradually they drew back and quieted. The man on the ground had wisely decided to stay there.
"Now." Quicksilver looked around at the young officers. "I realize that you are new here, and that you are not used to the local customs.
"So I will be blunt. Act as if you are dining casually with your family, and your mother is watching you, and we should all be happy. Don't grab a woman unless she is flirting with you. And if she changes her mind, accept it. Try raping one of us, and we'll show you what else kitchen knives are good for. Succeed in raping one of us, and you will die."
Heavy breathing and gritted teeth from the officers. No arguments, though.
"If you can find some manners, come finish your dinners." She turned and walked back in. The regular troops followed. The officers edged in carefully.
One of the less bruised ones eyed her narrowly. "You have no idea how much trouble you are in."
She looked at him, pityingly. "You don't understand the local situation. So I will give you a hint. Don't force your commander to take official notice."
"I am a
Lord, and you can't treat one of us like that and expect to get away with it."
Quicksilver snorted. "We are all human beings, and we all have the same rights under the Charter. Lords have additional responsibilities and duties which lead inevitably to additional methods of gaining property and earning money. You are mistaking that for some elevated place above mere mortals, and mere law. I recommend you rethink that preception."
They ate quickly, paid grudgingly, and cast many looks behind. Sullen, angry, expectant, excited . . . Deena wondered what they'd do if they were ordered to clean the privies. General Mikow had personally witnessed the witches, wizards and gods and goddesses in battle. He'd seen Quicksilver in action.
He'd be more likely to regret not seeing her thump his temporary officers than get on the wrong side of Harry by defending an officer that groped one of his orphans.
Deena shook her head in exasperation. "You know, someone once asked Xen if there was anyone he couldn't beat. He replied, 'My dad and my little sister.' It never occurred to any of us that he meant that literally."
Quicksilver chuckled. "He didn't. He's awfully good, and he's stronger, with a longer reach than I have. I have—barely—an edge speed-wise, and try to maneuver so that speed is the most useful. Even so, he wins more often than he loses. And I don't ever remember him acting like this lot."
"I'd put that down to sisterly hero worship, except that I met him when he was on his two year rotation, and he was . . . Xen. And being a damn good influence on Garit, for that matter. Garit had been getting a bit snotty before he went off on his rotation. And when things settle down, will you try to teach me how to . . . speed up like that?"
Quicksilver blinked. "I . . . hmm, never thought about it as a magical attribute. I just thought it was adrenaline . . . I'll have to analyze what it is I do."
"Now I'm surprised you had so much trouble with those witches in the Divide. And your pocket isn't deep enough for two foot long sticks."
"It's got a bubble in it. And the witches had shields and could throw spells. And frankly, they wanted to kill us, so I was more wary and ready to defend against magic than I actually needed to be. These lords just wanted to put me in what they thought was my place. They were nothing but a bit of exercise."
"Heh. Idiots."
"Oh, I dunno, some of them were kind of cute."
Deena rolled her eyes. "Stop acting your age. Now, about Teri, are you thinking what I'm thinking? And what do we do about it?"
"That we need to find out if Teri is passing on info to Ricardo? Yes, that was, unfortunately, what I was thinking of. First we go to Rip Crossing. I want to talk to the people who've been keeping an eye on her." She cast an eye over the more subdued dining room. "Flare, we're going to abandon you again. I'll see if any Ash witches feel like doing something useful."
They walked through the corridor to Ash, and then through to Rip Crossing, and walked to the gate.
"For all the disasters that have happened here, it sure is pretty." Deena looked around at the moonlit badlands landscape.
"You should come back in the daylight. Bring Xen and make him show you one of the giant lizards."
"The one I saw at Edge of the World was quite sufficient. Even dead it was scary."
Quicksilver stepped through the gate with Deena on her heels. She stood and listened carefully. "Teri's here, alone. And Ask says that it is so nice of me to have her come out to the Crossroads every two weeks for practice."
"Every two weeks?"
"Every Full and New Moon, she says. Looks like Teri's learned how to slip the leash anytime she wants to. So she was elsewhere two weeks ago. . . But Ask says she'd returned the day before the assassination. Tomorrow, I'm expecting her. If Ricardo is wary, and doesn't come back . . . "
Deena nodded. "We might be able to trick her into giving us some information."
Chapter Twenty-two
Winter 1393, day 14
Karista, Kingdom of the West
Staven watched the interviews . . . and his own relatives, also watching the proceedings. And pondered the Council's selection. All the straight line males younger than Dad. Minus Prince Kel, aged four months, and plus Wolfson. Have they decided to consider inheritance through the female line? But they didn't include the Treham brothers. Because Baylor is such an obvious suspect? I wonder what they are saying about Garit, behind all our backs? And Wolfson. I suppose they may have included him as a sop to Rufi . . .
Lord Dustu Negue, cousin to the opinionated Edvin, was first up. He was dull and shallow. He had few opinions. But he was up to the minute on the state of the budget, and finally livened up and told them, at length, how to fix the nation's accounting system.
Knows his stuff. In a very narrow range. I really can't imagine him committing murder for advancement—nor do I think he had the right contacts to set up that elaborate charade at the Edge of the World. I need to research all my suspects' magical abilities, or the magical talents of their confidants.
Prince Mirk was asked a single question.
"We all know and respect you." Lord Fidel nodded politely. "Our concern is that you are only four years younger than Rolo. And as the oldest of the adult candidates, legally we ought to be considering you as a candidate for Spear Heir."
Mirk returned the nod. "Indeed sir, I am not much younger than Prince Rolo. However, I'm reasonably fit and can return to duty at need. I'm twelve years younger than the Spear Prince. I . . . confess that I'd prefer the Crown. My expertise is more in administration. The Charter is a bit vague about adoptions and inheritance not by direct descent. Perhaps so that we can choose the best people, in a crisis. Perhaps a suitable Spear Heir could be adopted first, and a Crown Heir second, and the date of their adoption be used as the datum for determining their relative status as 'older' and 'younger' siblings. I defer to the Council and the scholars' opinion of the Charter's terminology."
"A very interesting possibility." Iron looked at his colleagues. "Any further questions? No? Thank you, Prince Mirk."
Staven watched Lord Thomu Iron closely. At nineteen he was the youngest of the interviewees. A year younger than Rebo, his father had sensibly kept him away from the ill-mannered prince.
Old Lord Iron presented him as if he wasn't his son. "You are descended from Spear Heso on your father's side, King Haro on your mother's. Nineteen years of age, you have completed your two year rotation and are currently attending King's University, majoring in Business management."
Staven frowned. I need to ask around, find out if he impressed his superiors enough to be offered a commission and turned it down for college. Or not. He was a bit of an arrogant snot, but not bullying.
Thomu was well up on all the best known issues, had opinions but appeared to also have room to listen to other points of view. He was tall, slender, good looking. He kept his temper, and was polite to the older women on the committee. Everything they needed in an heir tertiary.
He's too damned young to really judge. Younger than Rebo, and there were a few flashes of arrogance showing through the holes, here and there. Despite being under his father's watchful eye. I'd better check the gossip more closely, just sail across the bay to section one and . . . what? Keep my ears open? It's all lumber and fishing, nothing large enough to call a city, even the towns are small. And I doubt he can possibly be as . . .corrupt as Rebo. Staven shifted uneasily and eyed his 'Uncle' Garit, intent on the meeting. Garit got a bit snippy, with Rebo, and snobby and unhappy before he left the palace for the army. But he never hurt anyone, there were no rumors of him harassing or attempting to rape anyone. Damn it, my top suspect is looking like the best candidate to replace Rebo.
How long has it been since he was my friend and near constant companion? Six years? He cannot have become a cold blooded killer in just six years.
Lord Elrich was cranky. He grumbled. Asked about marriage, he complained of forward women and gold diggers.
Dead end as a king, insufficient drive and ambition to slaughter his way to t
he throne. With or without magic.
The last man was Lord Farit Iron. Six years older than his brother, two years older than Staven. As a child, Staven had thought him dull and uninteresting. Now he was overweight and tended to wheeze a bit, but he was knowledgeable and concise, discussing foreign affairs as easily as finances. His opinions tended toward moderate and he tended to think before speaking.
He'd be a good administrator, not brilliant, not inspiring, but a decent enough king. But who would be his spear? It's beginning to look like I'll be harder to replace than Rebo.
The Council adjourned. They'd talk it over, and look over the youngsters next week.
"Looks like we've got five reasonable choices." Staven overheard a Councilor, and watched Garit perk up.
Staven caught his eye and Garit laughed a bit. "Am I an egotist, to be so certain that I am one of the reasonable ones, with Mirk, Xen, Farit and Thomu. Old Gods! If only they'd choose Xen."
Xen. The two of them are close friends, came through the rotation together. They both know the woman who tried to kill me. But which one is leading the other? I need to find out more about that man. I know he's a wizard, the only person with magical ability to gain—possibly—from removing Rebo and me from his path.
Chapter Twenty-three
Winter 1393, Day 14
Ash and Rip Crossing, Desolation Territory
"We're overlooking Rebo's children . . . and their mothers and their ambitions, or the ambitions of fathers, brothers, boyfriends and husbands."
"Bastards can't inherit titles." Markly looked indignant.
Staven wondered briefly if that was a reaction to upsetting the boy's idea of how the world worked, or if perhaps, he was a young Lord Markly. Then he dragged his mind back to the main problem.
"Let's go talk to this Lady Eden. And maybe those other witches from that orgy in Rip Crossing. Any babies from that ought to be, what, six months old? Get the horses saddled up, Markly. "
Passe rolled his eyes and stepped out with Markly. A bit late to start worrying about where I go, Passe.