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

by Pam Uphoff

  "Oh, she's a proper Ash witch. Well, actually she's got a lot of wizards in her family, which is one reason she's so powerful already." She took a shaky breath. "I suppose we ought to get together soon and see how much we've jumped in ability."

  "Do men, wizards and mages, have the same steps in ability?"

  "I . . . think so, although Never says that they don't get the huge leap in bodily awareness, and . . . oh, call it instinctive medical ability . . . that women get during the process of giving birth. She says they get that more gradually, if they get it at all. But they do get some boost, the first time they become fathers."

  "Hmm. It doesn't make a lot of sense to me, most likely because I never studied it or thought about it."

  Mihaela rubbed her cheek on his chest. "It's . . . like an instinct. You fall into deep water, and automatically hold your breath, start paddling and kicking. Huh. Not a bad analogy. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in magic, in power. I just keep hoping instinct will keep my head above water until the proper witching lessons kick in."

  He snuggled a bit closer. "How much did you actually see? I have this vague memory of you asking me how drunk I was and . . . "

  Her arm tightened around his ribs. "I was horrified by the sounds of that horse, of Devil down there. The moon was down, I hadn't really seen the horse, just movement in the dark and the sound of hooves. So I assumed that the stupid drunk on the ground had ridden his horse down the steps . . . And then I could see that you were trying to tie off a tourniquet . . . and then I recognized you . . . " Her voice was getting high and stressed.

  "Sorry, sorry, shouldn't bring up bad memories. So you were standing on the rim stargazing? Could you see anything, down in the canyon?"

  Her head shook. "Dusty came up and we talked about going home . . . I could hear several voices, yelling, screaming, a man screaming, not a woman. Then, more distinctly, I heard a male voice and a female voice. Footsteps on stone, moving to the right, south. Then the sound of the running horse." She buried her face in his chest. "I keep having nightmares about not walking down, of just walking away. Not getting involved in something that sounded like trouble."

  "I'm really glad you came." His arm tightened around her. Then, and tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Winter 1393, day 15

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  "Who profited?" Staven jumped up and paced around the conference table. Another meeting. Another group banging of heads against walls. Dammit, we aren't getting anywhere.

  Wacolm shrugged. "We've all asked ourselves that, and the answer is Mirk and Garit, they both jumped up closer to the throne. Foreign powers, except none of them seem inclined to take advantage of our distraction. Other worlds, except none of them have shown at all."

  "Lady Indigo? Only if she was married to him. Less fig leaf there than even Lady Eden had." Janic frowned.

  "Do you know, I didn't even consider Eden." Wolfson blinked. "Was she accounted for?"

  Wacolm nodded. "She was in Ash and Prairie Coast, usually with multiple other people. She has a decent income, but we audit it. Not enough to hire a top notch assassin, and none at all unaccounted for."

  Staven paused his pacing, behind Wolfson. But we might have missed a boyfriend . . . say, a wizard who visited Ash regularly and has enough royal connections to be considered as a Spear candidate. Wolfson cocked an enquiring expression over his shoulder. Staven got back to pacing.

  Janic pinched the bridge of his nose. "That wasn't the Prince's first indiscretion. We've checked the others, to see if a husband might have found out. Or from the other side, if a mother or stepfather might have gotten ambitious, but the ones we were most worried about have solid alibis. The rest are rumors—and they really don't want to talk about it, especially if their husbands might hear about us talking to them."

  Wolfson kicked back and pondered. "Ricardo and Eternal were both punished in a manner that turned out to be worse than planned. Revenge? Eternal seems to have realized the guy in the mirror was the problem. Ricardo . . . Revenge, I suppose, but why kill Prince Staven? What about Keith? Could the killer have used Keith to get Rebo to the Orgy? He knew the whore who distracted Prince Staven."

  Janic rubbed his temples. "Rebo . . . had a long history of misbehavior. There was an orgy in the Temple of Ba'al when he was only thirteen. Heso and Zap were . . . not just there, they were in close proximity to Rebo when our guards crashed the party. He met Ricardo when he was, umm, fifteen. They scandalized the family and were working up on worse. Rufi had to bend some regs to keep Easterly after he dragged Rebo home by the scruff of the neck after chasing him for two weeks. We thought we kept that pretty little fag away after that—didn't know his antecedents until the Eden wedding orgy. I doubt it was coincidence that made Rebo run straight to Ricardo. We were keeping tabs on Lord Keith, after the One World problem. But not all that tightly. He may have been carrying messages between the two of them."

  Wolfson wrinkled his nose. "I didn't know Ricardo that well . . . he's six years younger than me, I never went to school with him. I met him for the first time when I coached some youngsters in dimensional work. There weren't any rumors about any princes. Would he actually kill a friend for money?"

  I'd write him off as an utter madman, if it weren't for corridors and gates. A world with rings in the sky. The only question is . . . is he innocent? Covering for Garit? Or helping Garit. Helping himself.

  "I always got the impression that Rebo was an asset Ricardo hoarded. The friendship didn't go both ways." Janic sighed. "Who profited? If the principal hired the killer, whether Ricardo or not . . . "

  Staven set his left fist on the table and leaned toward Wolfson. "All right, let's just stop being mannerly and say your buddy Garit hired you to kill his two nephews. Then the elder brother, Mirk becomes the Spear Heir, and Garit—eventually—takes the throne. You, knowing Keith, and not being able to get at Rebo in the Palace or me in another part of the Army, used Keith to lure Rebo away from his guards, with a good chance of pulling me in as well. You used illusion to hide your presence at the Inn and during the orgy, lured Rebo away with the illusion of a new girl to deflower, your girlfriend lures me out and kicks me down the canyon. Lizards eat well."

  Wolfson nodded his approval. "Hmm, not bad, but I'd have made sure Rebo didn't have any children. Not to mention that I would have been tragically late getting you to Lady Gisele. And I may be a country bumpkin, but I do know Garit has three older brothers, so I wouldn't ever be considered for a slot. Although if I were stupid enough to run around murdering people, that wouldn't hold. And I ought not knock the writers of the Charter, but in a case like this, wouldn't it make more sense to just choose a damn good general to be the Spear Heir? Adopt him or something."

  "The Council is arguing the points. It isn't clear." Janic sat back, eyeing the two of them.

  Wolfson frowned. "Okay, try this. I'm Mirk, and I want to be King, far enough in the future that people have forgotten how convenient a few deaths were. I need to kill the current heir tertiary and I need to kill, hmm, Fossi, actually. Then, in theory, Rolo becomes the eldest, and the sword heir, and I become the crown prince. In fact just killing Fossi would work, wouldn't it? Drat. Mirk has no reason to want either you or Rebo dead."

  "Err, not, umm. Rolo's already confirmed as the Crown Prince by the Council, I don't think he could be dislodged by the death of his Spear. Old Gods know spear princes get killed in battle. The next spear just takes over." Janic threw up his hands. "Who the bloody hell thought up this system. I'm not sure how things would cascade."

  Staven decided to give Wolfson one more poke. "Maybe you planned to kill Garit, too. Then Mirk becomes the Spear Heir and you nab the crown."

  The tall man just grinned, eyes crinkled in genuine amusement. "Maybe you hired me, thinking, since I'm a bit older than you, that I'd be elevated to the Spear, and you'd get the crown. And I double crossed you."

  Wacolm covered a laugh with a cough. Staven glared
.

  Wolfson shrugged. "I have it on good authority from a former tyrant, that ruling involves a ton of paperwork. And so many competing sycophants and whiners that you don't know which one to kill first. I'll pass, thank you very much. So . . . I've missed a lot of other people's work. Are we sure you were the intended recipient of the note? I'm sure someone asked Prince Fossi if he got any messages from Rebo about then?"

  Staven shook his head. "I already did. He didn't. Markly, the page, says he ran only the one message. I read it and sent him for my horse. The . . . person . . . quite clearly said 'my brother.' It was sent to me."

  Wolfson's eyes narrowed. "So, Captain, you were a target as well, not attacked simply because you were there. The only reason I can see to kill you is to prevent Rolo and Amilie from producing one last child to take Rebo's place. Now, he's two boy babies away from continuing the line."

  "And only Mirk and Garit have a horse in that race." Janic sighed. "Whenever an assassination happens, our rules are to guard the rest more carefully—but looking both ways, because the culprit is likely to be family. I hate this. Mirk has been an exemplary prince. Married well, three children, quiet lifestyle, position on his father's staff, good solid analyst, credit to the family. Garit . . . just doesn't seem to have those sorts of ambitions. He's probably going to be career Army. I'd be delighted to have him as a Spear Heir, and if he were a second son, I figure he's smart enough to buckle down and do that job too."

  "Yeah. I don't like thinking of either of them as the Principal." Wolfson said. "How about the Princesses? Any ambitions themselves, or husbands with ambitions?"

  "Fossi, Rolo, Mirk and Garit in the way."

  "Rolo's daughters? Rolo could adopt a grandson as an heir, couldn't he?"

  "There aren't any grandchildren, yet. Rolo's oldest daughter is, um, eighteen. And not very ambitious for anything but a boyfriend. The next, Hedi, is smart as a whip and ambitious, but realistic about it. She's talking head of a department. Not war she says. Maybe Animal Welfare. She's fourteen. Horse crazy."

  "Sounds a bit unlikely. I don't suppose you could draft the God of Just Deserts to hang around while you questioned everyone? People tend to blurt out the most amazing things around him. Other than that, well Rebo was a womanizer and cad." Wolfson looked over at the senior officers. "Did he seduce someone's wife or daughter? Someone who could and would retaliate? But then, why kill Staven? We should check the gossip anyway. Bleck."

  "Right, find an excuse to talk to some of those women who are always throwing themselves at you. I'll send out other people as well." Janic slouched out. Wacolm followed.

  Staven eyed Wolfson, who was studying him in turn.

  "Do you have any scandals you'd as soon not mention in front of senior officers?"

  Staven repressed a growl. "There are no scandals to not mention."

  "Oh, good. Because I can guarantee the Sisters from Hell would know all about them. My main problem will be sorting out the imaginary one from the real."

  Mihaela's friends. Oh . . . Hell.

  "Oh, good idea. I'll bet they'd talk more to another woman, especially another witch."

  Staven glared. "Damn it." Motherless son of a . . . and he's right. Mihaela's the perfect person to send in to collect gossip. "Yes. I'll go talk to her, see if she'll do it. In fact, if I take her there, that'll probably start the gossip in the right direction."

  ***

  "So I was wondering if you'd collect gossip for me. I . . . thought about the Sisters from Hell. They go to all the parties . . . "

  Mihaela was looking prim and proper, well aware of the three women watching. A tossup whether her mother or Aunt Andrei was the scariest. Jaina was there too, married to Max Lovett, her boys would be out with a wagon. Her daughter had married and she and her husband ran Damien's farm out in the country.

  And the kids. Mihaela's sisters. Dori was nineteen and Aurora seven. Neither of them had the witch gene like Mihaela and Sandy. The youngest sister was six. The same age—and inseparable from—the triplets. Rebo's children. I . . . ought to spend more time with them.

  At the moment, all four of them were climbing all over Solstice. Three bright blonde heads and one dark. Giggling. Solstice was perfectly relaxed, swishing his tail.

  Randy Fentress was his guard today. Poor man looked like he couldn't decide whether to stick close to Staven, or run and snatch the little kids from that vicious Traveler's stallion.

  Markly was trying to look old and mature enough to chat with Dori, and ignoring Aurora who was running in circles around them.

  "Well, I do need to go practice . . . "

  "Why don't I give you a lift? If that doesn't start them gossiping, nothing will."

  Mihaela snickered. "Are you sure you want to start them gossiping?"

  Oh. About us. "Well . . . try and bend it toward who might be jealous enough to kill Rebo."

  Her eyes darkened as she nodded. "I will."

  He evicted the little kids and mounted. And even with Solstice sidestepping up to the porch, Staven gulped. Braced his legs and extended a hand. If I fall off, I'm going to be so embarrassed . . . It was not a graceful maneuver, but he managed to stay aboard, and Mihaela managed to wiggle around to sit sideways, clinging to his back.

  "Skirts are definitely inconvenient." Mihaela winced away from a glare from the adult women.

  Solstice stepped carefully, to avoid the children, who fortunately had sense enough to avoid the other horses.

  They got some censorious glances as they walked across to the temple ground. Staven caught a few comments about Travelers and women of loose morals, and pinto horses.

  He caught a glimpse of Markly snickering, and Fentress's indignant expression. They were hanging back to give him some semblance of privacy, and perhaps to not be associated with the embarrassing pair of young lovers.

  Staven found himself not caring in the least. Mihaela was nice and warm, leaning on his back and maybe he could entice her to come home with him tonight . . .

  She pointed out a different spot on the marble wall, and made a flicking motion. Staven could feel the bit of flying energy, and Solstice strode through without breaking stride.

  The God of Just Deserts lived on an island in the bay. Ten miles out, so the city was spared his . . . broad aura of instant karma. Not to mention the dogs that were trotting up to check on the visitors.

  Staven eyed them. Big dogs . . . Old Gods! And gamboling after them, puppies. "Please tell me those aren't purebred hell hounds."

  Mihaela giggled. "After the God of Art attacked Heliotrope last year, Trump decided they needed more. I think everyone is relieved that there were only six puppies."

  Staven eyed the big gangly pups. Short haired like the boxer and the dane, a miscellany of colors, but a majority of solid black. "Yeah, I can see where more than ten hell hounds might be . . . interesting.

  Markly popped out of a stone arch, his horse snorting and alarmed. "Corporal Fentress's horse is too sensible to stick his head into a wall." The boy was grinning.

  "Go tell him to guard that side and I'll be right back." Staven turned Solstice up the path to the huge marble edifice showing between trees. Fountains sprayed water, marble statues posed and a tall man strode out the doors. His steps slowed, and his shoulders relaxed as Mihaela leaned around Staven's shoulder and waved.

  Giggles preceded a flock of good looking women flooding out the door.

  "Oh, look who's got a boyfriend!" More giggles.

  Staven offer Mihaela an arm, and she slid down Solstice's flank.

  "Thank you for the ride, Staven!"

  She was swallowed up by the group of women.

  Lord Hell laughed. "The expression on your face! I suspect, Prince Staven, that you are about to get verbally dissected."

  Staven nodded. "Fortunately in absentee. Umm, do you have any idea how long these witch things last?"

  "Oh, they'll be up all night, and sleep half of tomorrow. Come for lunch. They probably won't actually eat
you."

  ***

  "So, I swept the Edge of the World building and the area around it, and found eight corridors. Most just went from one room to another, but there were corridors to Rip Crossing, Gemstone, Two Trees and Farofo." Xen bit his lip. "Those four corridors were all in a line . . . and there was a gap, as if a corridor had been closed. I'm guessing it went to that cathouse where Deena and Easterly pulled in the gang. And, of course, there could have been others, at either end of the line."

  Janic huffed out an irritated breath. "Two women evaded Deena and Easterly. Otherwise, Ricardo's the only one we're missing. That we know of. A god, they called him. And we have no clue where he's gone. No sign of more Oners, thank the Old Gods. Even the Post Head has disappeared.

  "So, we've arrested the two baby sitting Auralian women, and we're going to start by pulling Rally Faloni in. You job is to make sure he isn't under some spell."

  ***

  "I took one look at the spells on him, and ran to Ash to beg assistance from my grandfather and Master Nil. What a vicious batch of spells! They had their hands full countering them, and then they made me learn them, and how to deal with them." Xen collapsed in the nearest chair. "Then I had to go in with Rally and pretend I was also in hot water over it all. I spent four hours egging him on with little reminders. But however venial, he hadn't a clue about the women's . . . side jobs. Nor anything about the One World. The two women who stayed here didn't react to that either."

  Easterly snorted. "I hope you were more subtle than that."

  "Oh yeah, and caught their thoughts, and it was easy to tell when they were lying."

  Deena scowled. "So . . . give us the brief version."

  "They were aware that the wizards were hired killers, and that their friends occasionally assisted. Apparently they had, at some point, been trained that way themselves. Infiltrate harems, kill the solti or whatever. Then their owner died, and they were sold to the brothel. Hoon took them on as useful, gave them a bit of extra training, and made sure they were the ones chosen when the idiots from my rotation invited them to be their mistresses. I couldn't find any indication of contact with the Post Head; he was a stranger to them. Those untrained witches came with the wizards. And that was after Hoon failed to return, there wasn't any contact—so far as they knew—between Hoon and the assassins."