The God of Assassins (Wine of the Gods Book 11)

by Pam Uphoff

  When Staven walked down, he found a five man escort waiting for him. He sent a censorious glare toward Passe, but said nothing. Sergeant Keller looked askance at Solstice, but shut his mouth when he got a glare. Solstice just happened to be standing next to the steps, which made mounting easy. I'm feeling better. I can send the old boy home soon. He winced. No one had said a word about Devil . . . I'm going to have to get up the nerve to ask, pretty soon.

  They jogged through city streets to the Temple. Solstice trotted right up to the marble wall—a tiny flick of magic—and trotted through to Ash.

  I'm going to pretend the horse isn't doing anything that could be considered magic. Or at least I'm going to keep my mouth shut about it.

  The guards' horses took the corridor with only a few snorts and tossed heads. Staven suspected Jimes Macay might have dropped a strong suggestion about training in the horsemaster's ear after a certain Traveler's nag showed up the guards' mounts.

  The sun was lower in the sky, starting to redden as Staven led them down the street. And stalled out in front of Brock's Dry Goods.

  Two women were walking out of the store, pushing a pretty little cart full of . . . babies. The brunette had stopped dead and was staring at him . . .

  "Excuse me, Lady Eden?"

  She nodded. "Prince Staven? I don't think we ever formally met, but you look so much like . . ." She swallowed, blinking back tears.

  Staven swung down to the ground. "Yeah. Sorry. Did anyone even bother to come talk to you?"

  "Well, you have." Her wry smile faded. "How may I help you?"

  Staven shrugged. "I don't know. Are you having any trouble with your father?"

  "No, thank the Old Gods. I haven't seen him in over a year." The tears welled up again. "Damn him. I have no idea, I never will, if I really loved Rebo, or if he loved me. Or if it was just a spell."

  "The witches can't tell?"

  Her eyes darted to the side. Staven glanced over to see a trio of old women watching, disapproval in every angle of their stance.

  "They say there's no spell on me now." She gulped a bit. "We had plans . . . and then everything went crooked. That stupid joke of a marriage ceremony, and then . . . They used illusions, they all looked like Rebo. I was too drunk to think straight . . . Then they came and took Rebo away, and left that Xen to take off the illusions and show me who I'd really been . . . with."

  Staven was silent a long moment. "Damn . . . Tell me about this ceremony."

  She threw her hands out. "Oh, they used the standard form, just changed a few words to make it an obscene joke."

  "Did you and Rebo pledge to each other?"

  Tears fell now. "Yes. For a little while I was so happy." She looked away. "If I ever get powerful enough, as a witch, I'm going to hunt down Ricardo and kill him."

  That was anger making her voice shake that time.

  Staven dropped his gaze to the babies. They were pretty much spherical, dressed for the chilly weather. Two chubby faces, one asleep, one sucking on his fist and meeting Staven's gaze with bright blue eyes.

  "One trusts . . . "

  Staven looked up to meet the gaze of an old woman. Straight and thin, sharp gaze.

  "One trusts that you have no intentions of harming a member of my pyramid, nor harming her children." A definite challenge in her tone.

  Staven could hear the uneasy rustle of his guards behind him. A faint murmur. "Where'd she come from? I didn't even see her . . . "

  "No, none. And my . . . possible nephews here may well be the next spear and crown heirs." Staven hesitated. "Is it possible to identify a father, magically?"

  Sniff. But also a faint relaxation of her stance. "Genetically. You could ask Lady Gisele, but the expert is actually Rustle Neverdaut. You'll find her in Rip Crossing."

  "Perhaps we ought to talk to her about it." Staven looked apologetically back at Eden. "I don't know if you want to know. Perhaps it would be a relief to find out that your sons can grow up free of obligations."

  She hesitated. "Everyone knows Lady Rustle is good at telling who the fathers are. I guess they have that problem all the time, because of those Rip Crossing orgies. I . . . am terrified that Ricardo might be their father." She cast a glance up the road, at the barn that held the corridor. "I guess it's time. You'll have to come, she doesn't know Rebo. If I understand how it works, you'll have the same Y chromosome as Rebo, and she can tell if the boys also have it." She turned and started pushing her cartful of babies toward the barn. It rolled well enough on the icy road. Staven walked beside her, with the guards both leading and following. They milled uncertainly until she rolled her cart through the wall, twenty feet from the spot they'd emerged from. "Hold up, Corporal." Staven ordered him. "Let her get that cart out of the way before we go through."

  He needn't have worried, she was well off to the side, when he stepped through. Chilly winter twilight met steaming geysers with fog and a smell of sulfur. Staven's breath caught with a shot of adrenaline. He found himself panting in the damp air, sweating . . . He swallowed hard. Straightened and walked across a flat shelf of solid dark rock toward the lights shining through doors made entirely of glass.

  One of the doors opened, and a man looked out.

  "I'm looking for Rustle Neverdaut." Staven told himself that the design was different. That they were apparently down in the Rip, not up on the rim. This is not the Edge of the World.

  "Oh sure, she's here." The man eyed the troops. "Umm, if you ride around to the right, well, your left, there are barns, and a door into the glass house. The witches are all up at that end."

  Eden turned the cart and headed that direction.

  A dozen women.

  All naked. Gleaming damply in the light of a trio of lanterns.

  And utterly oblivious to it, as Staven elbowed past his stunned guards.

  ". . . time I found out, one way or the other." Eden looked around. "Prince Staven is Rebo's half brother . . . I . . . need to know if the babies are Rebo's, or someone else's. If someone else's, I don't want to know specifically."

  One of the women nodded. She was sitting on the edge of a steaming pool, feet in the water, but otherwise dry. She looked too young to be an expert at anything, although not as young as some of the other women.

  Three of the women were very pregnant and two little kids, naked, played in the water. Two babies, even smaller than Eden's twins were bundled up on the far side.

  "Err, sorry to bother you." Staven tried to keep his gaze up.

  The woman Eden was speaking to snickered. "Sorry. We don't do embarrassed." She stood up, grabbed a robe off a table that looked to be formed from solid rock, and slung it on. "I'm Rustle Neverdaut. C'mon up here, so you can stop blushing."

  Eden wheeled her cart after her, and Staven eyed his escort. "You guys need to either come along or go back outside."

  Giggles from the pool.

  Passi cleared his throat. "Corporal, take the men outside, umm, I'll keep Lad and Foskel."

  Staven followed Eden. He could hear Miss, Missus, or perhaps Lady Rustle talking.

  "The genetics of magic is rather fascinating. Witches used to be rather infertile, well, to have fewer than normal children, at any rate, because of chromosomal mismatches."

  Eden looked baffled.

  Staven bit his lip. "Hybrids? Like mules?"

  "Well, not that extreme. But yes, some matchups in fertilized eggs just aren't viable. The wine of the gods has a half dozen spells that address that very problem, so we've had a real flood of babies, the last forty years. Well. Prince Staven, if I could touch you?"

  Staven nodded, and managed to not shy away when she reached for his face.

  "Oh, how interesting. Of course you've got the same Y chromosome as Rufi. It's a variant of the Mage gene. Rather close to the Arbolian Priest gene, actually. " She walked to the cart. "What are they, now? Six months old?"

  Eden gulped. "Not quite." Her hands clenched on the handle as Lady Rustle touched first one baby, then the oth
er.

  "They both have that same Y chromosome. And an affinity to Prince Staven that's about right for a half brother's child." Her eyes crinkled a bit. "Sit down, Eden, before you faint."

  "Sorry. I just, I hated the thought that they might be Ricardo's children."

  Rustle shook her head. "No. I know his genes, he's definitely not the father."

  Staven chewed his lip. So, they're my nephews. Possibly legitimate. "The laws concerning legitimacy are . . . a bit foggy. If witches don't marry, then those two that were at the . . . wedding orgy . . . "

  Lady Rustle was shaking her head. "No, those two babies are only four months old and Orion and Korbin are their fathers." Her eyes tracked back in the direction of the pool.

  "Oh. That's a relief. A bit less of a complication. The other four women?"

  "Not Rebo's, and born a bit late to even have been conceived then."

  "Good." Staven glanced apologetically at Eden. "Sorry. It's just such a tangle. Being able to drop six babies from the list of possible heirs is . . . "

  "Wonderful." Eden smiled wryly, and looked down at her babies. "I . . . am not sorry that Irwin and Alin are Rebo's children."

  Rustle nodded. "Would you like to stay for some exercises? We told the men to leave us alone."

  "Certainly. Prince Staven . . . thank you for prodding me into finally finding out."

  Staven inclined his head. Rebo's wife. Widow. Maybe.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Winter 1393, day 14

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  It was late when he finally reached home. He sent the guards off and handed Solstice over to his mother's groom. Ha! I didn't even think about getting dropped off at the steps. The blood must be back up to normal.

  The door opened as he walked up the steps.

  "You have a visitor."

  Jek Davis was a very stiff and proper butler. Despite being retired—possibly—from the King's Own. Like most of Mother's staff.

  Staven eyed him, trying—unsuccessfully—to read his expression.

  "I put her in your private parlor."

  Her? Oh, did Lady Gisele hear that I came through Ash and didn't stop in so she could check her work? You put the Goddess of Health and Healing back in my little suite? I got the impression that she is more easily amused than angered, but still . . .

  "Thank you, Davis." Staven took the hall to the left. His mother's town house was tucked into the slope of one of Karista's hills. The original builder had allowed the hard rock to shape his plans, not always for the best. When Staven had hit twenty-one he'd laid claim to two rooms, up till then used for storage because of their inconvenient placement, for his own. A little sitting room with a fireplace, and his bedroom. He strode past the servant's door, the door out to the privvy, around the corner . . . and stopped dead.

  "Mihaela?"

  And she was in his arms, and one and half seemed to work fine for hugging, and if a bit awkward for undressing, her dress didn't seem to have any buttons, and she attacked his with hungry efficiency. And then they paused . . . just long enough to be sure that neither of them had any intention of stopping.

  Mihaela resisted an slight attempt to steer her toward the bedroom and pulled him down to the floor.

  She was glowing. Magic. Innocent, fumbling hands, afraid to touch, and in turn Staven was clumsy himself, short one prop and careful to not hit his stump anywhere, because he really really did not want this to turn into a pain-filled fiasco.

  A huge burst of magic as he entered her, a flood of power from her to him as he moved, then he came and passed the power back to her. She panted, then relaxed suddenly as the power flowed away.

  He vaguely thought about Rebo's taunts about deflowering virgin witches being the best . . . Breathed in the scent of her hair, felt the warmth of her body. You were right Rebo, but I think I'll keep this one.

  Tried really hard to not drift off into utterly contented sleep . . . A twinge of pain stopped the slide. He shifted carefully, so he could stroke her hair with his left hand.

  "Don't think I've seen your hair loose since you were a little girl."

  "And you pulled it?" Mihaela curled up against his chest, her head pillowed on his right shoulder.

  "And you punched me." Staven vaguely wondered if they ought to get off the floor and go to bed . . . but the fire in the little stone recess was warm, the rug soft enough . . . and Mihaela sleepy and content . . . How does naked manage to look so innocent?

  "Tried to punch you. Even then your arms were long enough to hold me off."

  "I seem to remember some kicked shins. And then Uncle Day started giving you karate lessons—and I got a big lecture about being careful when hitting small people."

  Mihaela snorted. "I so enjoyed being told to beat you up—not that I ever really succeeded, but I thought I was pretty dangerous."

  "The gleam in your eye, the clear intent to deal damage—you were pretty intimidating, for a cute little girl. And now I suspect you're truly dangerous, with the magic and all."

  Her arm tightened around his ribcage. "Are you all right? I didn't intend to . . . use you to advance. But I kept having nightmares, about that night. I thought you were dying. And then the viewing . . . I hadn't realized how much you and Rebo looked alike. I guess because he was always sneering. But, but . . . it could have been you, laying there . . . "

  She was shivering, so he hugged her and rubbed her back, warmed by the stove, warmed by her wonderful self . . .

  It was even better the second time.

  "I ought to be out investigating something, but I'm too happy to even move. Quite apart from having run out of people to investigate."

  Mihaela blinked sleepily. Happily. "Is there anything I can do to help? I was there, after all."

  "Good thing for me." Staven nuzzled her hair. "So . . . Why did you three go there?"

  "Well, we were all twentyish. Dusty and Indigo were much better trained than me. Dusty's from Ash, so she's really really well trained. She was hot to advance . . . Umm . . . magic, for women, comes in big jumps in ability. We usually grasp power for the first time around puberty. Then, well, loss of virginity. Giving birth. The joy of seeing our daughter grasp power for the first time. Holding our granddaughter. Menopause."

  Staven swallowed, and stepped out into unknown territory. "So . . . the three of you egged each other on to . . . lose your virginity?"

  She sighed and snuggled closer. "We work in triads. With three of us working very closely, we're much stronger than the three of us working separately. And they wanted to advance . . . I didn't think it really mattered when I did it. Well, my parents sort of turn green when the subject comes up. And the lectures! So I thought . . . I'd just go do it, not bother them with details, unless I got pregnant, then I'd have to tell them."

  Pregnant . . . Staven swallowed a flicker of panic.

  "Dusty said she'd heard of this terrific new place, come on let's all go together, see if there are any wizards or mages around, like they said . . . So we went."

  She squirmed. "I, umm, I, umm . . . The staff told us where to go, to find a party . . . We walked out to the rim and to the right—south—to where a path and steps led down into the fog . . . there was an orgy going on . . . I . . . took one look at all the naked strangers and turned around and left. I just . . . couldn't . . . "

  Staven couldn't help grinning. "Scaredy cat."

  She thumped his ribs, gently. "Stupid saying. Wildcats are as wary around people as any other small carnivore."

  "Except skunks."

  "Right. I'll give you that."

  He could hear the smile in her voice, now.

  "So I went up to my room. And stared holes in the ceiling. Speaking of stupid sayings. Then Dusty and Indigo came in, all happy and glowing like mad. They started chattering, and said they were hungry and maybe the restaurant was still open or was it morning, already? I got up and went for a walk. I was, oh, daydreaming of meeting the perfect man, having a romantic tryst a
nd returning to Ash, a big mean kick-ass magic-channeling witch. But I turned left and followed the rim the other way." She swallowed. "Dusty came down, asked if I was going to stay, they'd decided to head home early . . . I heard voices, and dithered, ready to run away. I heard a yell, screaming, a horse galloped by and it sounded like it ran down the steps. I didn't think a horse could do that. I was standing there, arguing with Dusty, that whatever was happening, we ought not get involved . . . then I went down."

  Her voice had gotten high with stress.

  "There was yelling and screaming. I couldn't make out any words, things were sort of echoing down there. There was a man and a woman, laughing. They walked off to the right. I heard the horse screaming. Like a stallion in a fight. I went further down . . . "

  "And saved me." Staven cleared his throat, it had gotten clogged somehow . . . "And I think you did something about the lizards attacking Devil. I don't know what happened to Devil. I'm . . . sort of afraid to ask. Uncle Day said something . . . but I don't actually know where he is."

  Mihaela frowned, a look of concentration. She exhaled in relief. "Xen has him. He won't let him die."

  Xen.

  Staven felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. She knows Xen Wolfson. She's magic. She was there.

  She's close to the Earther's spy ring.

  He took a slow, deep breath. I really need to stop suspecting everyone . . . What would Earth gain by killing Rebo? And Wolfson doesn't live here in town, she'd only see him now and then when she's in Ash. And he's been away, in the army. She doesn't hardly know him.

  She knows lots of magical people.

  He hardened his heart. Softened his grip. Act like you were a few minutes ago, all gooey and soft and content. Loving.

  "How about your friends, your triad? Are they all right? I've met Indigo, she's one of the Sisters from Hell, right?"

  "Yes. Well, not actually one of Lord Hell's kids or step kids. But her mother Zenith is one of Lady Trump's triad."

  "And Dusty?"