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

by Pam Uphoff

  Garit looked around. "Do you need me for anything, Colonel?"

  "No, sir." He stepped back and saluted.

  Garit blinked as every Imperial Guard in sight did the same. "Thank you. I'll leave this mess in your hands then." He returned the salute, then ducked hastily out.

  ***

  Staven spent the short ride thinking hard. I was so wrong. So entirely wrong. Garit risked his life to save my stepmother, and a possible half brother that knocks him down a peg on the list. And Wolfson . . . no wonder he spooks soldiers. No one ought to be able to fight like that. The carriage stopped at the south entrance, and he worriedly followed the limping Garit into the king's usual conference room.

  "The Irons." The king sank into the chair at the head of the table. "The old boy must have lost his mind when his wife died last year." He looked around as Rufi swung through the door. "Xen?"

  "His family seems to think they can . . . undo whatever Ricardo did to him." Rufi thumped down beside the king, and looked over at Garit and Staven. His eyes narrowed at Garit's blood soaked uniform. "So, tell all."

  Fossi and Rolo joined them, Janic and then Wacolm. Deena and Easterly were the last in.

  After Garit finished, they filled in what had happened at the Crossroads.

  "So, we may have gotten the principle, but at least one of the actual assassins are still at large." Rufi sat back. "Damn. So. How do we find them?"

  Staven shrugged. "I don't know, so perhaps we ought to see if . . . Prince Xen has any ideas."

  If he survives.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Winter 1393, day 18

  City of Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Xen laid back in bed, telling himself he was just lazing around, not so limp he couldn't sit up.

  Quicksilver sat in the chair beside the bed, feet up on the bed. "Rather shockingly quick and easy to knock those genes out of play, once you know how."

  His mother was beside her. "Yes, and as sloppy as Ricardo was, I'm really surprised he didn't manage to kill you instantly."

  Quicksilver wrinkled her nose. "The weird thing is that Harry knew a variation of the spell he'd used. I didn't think Harry was capable of that level of genetic engineering."

  "Or that sort of viciousness." Rustle looked worried. "Even Nil was a bit taken aback by it."

  Xen snorted. "I invented that when I was eleven. I was really mad at Swish. Good thing I didn't use it. Just because it seemed to work all right on a few cells under a microscope, apparently doesn't mean it won't start some cascading effects later." He winced. Did I kill the Goddess of Mercy? Maybe it was just overdoing the magic without a power source. Maybe I'd have recovered on my own, and Mercy . . . is just fine, under all those bubbles. Damn it all, I may have to repair her magic genes if we ever let her out.

  "You created that horrible thing? My sweet little boy? When you were eleven!"

  Quicksilver snickered.

  "I showed it to Harry. Ricardo must have seen what I did to Mercy. Caught that spell and analyzed it. Or maybe watched when I showed it to Harry. I knew he was sneaky, but I ought . . . Well, that'll teach me to take a lazy student for granted. I didn't have a block up for that sort of thing at all."

  "And no experience with not being able to tap power, even for things you don't realize are magic, like the speed with which you fight. You were pretty drained of energy, which is the main reason we bubbled you. It gave us time to figure out what had been done—and I'm glad you did show Harry that horrible spell, else we'd still be working on it. I'm sorry the fix took so long, but we had to be sure we were turning back all the right genes and none of the wrong ones. Just reversing the spell was just begging to 'change back' something that hadn't actually been changed in the first place." His mother grinned, a bit wryly. "I'd really have hated to kill you trying to save you."

  He reached out, formed a play cube and unfolded it. "This is so nice. Not that I had the faintest doubt but that you could fix me." He added hastily. "And really, it ought to have occurred to me that with so many similarities between the power genes that anything that would mess up one, would mess up all of them."

  Quicksilver stuck out a toe and kicked him. "Brat. Gee, you weren't perfect when you were eleven years old?"

  That brought an amused snort from the doorway and Garit sauntered in. "You look better. Is this how you get all the girls? Do something heroic and then lay down and look vulnerable?"

  "Yep. Drat my luck, though. This time only my mother and my sister came."

  "What a waste of spectacular heroics." Staven followed Garit through the door.

  "Well, it's all Garit's fault. He started it." Xen frowned. "Deena, how did you and Easterly get there so fast? I thought all your horses were in the barn?"

  Deena snickered. "Not to be outdone by the Boy with the Talking Horse, we both leaped onto the Old Dun and told him to follow you."

  Garit snickered. "You mean, no saddle, no bridle? You just talked to him?"

  Nods.

  Quicksilver squirmed. "Yellow tossed a sash around Stripy's neck and went to warn the Palace. I took Ricardo's corridors, and called Dad. We checked out the Jalasi's place. There was blood—he clearly teleported back there—but he'd already cleared out to somewhere else. And then you summoned the God of War, and we all wound up hovering over your poor exhausted body."

  Xen made a rude gesture.

  Deena snickered.

  "There weren't all that many Council Guards in on the plot, you know." Easterly smiled nastily. "And most of them are dead."

  Xen pulled himself up. Tried to look strong and able.

  "Yes, less than a tenth. With another quarter too dumb to ask what was happening. They just jumped into the fight on the side with the same uniforms they were wearing." Deena sniffed disapprovingly.

  "And they're trying to blame it all on Lord Fidel having a stroke, and Lord Thomu panicking about it and calling the guards, and then a series of over-reactions until Lord Farit straightened it all out." Garit shrugged. "I saw Iron push Amilie. They aren't going to get out of it."

  Staven nodded. "We thought of the Council Hall building as safe territory, so our guards who had escorted Amilie to the hall, once they'd escorted her to Iron's office, were easily lured off to see a new crossbow design and locked in a room. It was obviously planned, premeditated. Fidel and Thomu . . . Old Gods!"

  Xen frowned. And now what do we do with them? Lock them up or execute them? Or more bubbles? Putting them on public display might be . . . interesting.

  His mother rose. "However, since you look so good, I'm going to leave you to the King's staff. Get some rest." She eyed the others in the room and they all murmured vague farewells and walked out.

  All except Staven.

  ***

  Staven closed the door behind Easterly and turned back to the bed.

  "I . . . apologize for suspecting you and Garit."

  "Garit was the obvious suspect, motive and all that. Me? Like you said before. It wasn't painful to blame me." Wolfson sat up taller. Thumped back against the headboard.

  Still weakened. Magical battles are odd . . . and not a damned scratch on him, from that utter mayhem at the Council Hall. Twenty-nine guards killed outright, forty injured. The man is utterly deadly with a sword. The merely injured were mostly facing Garit, who racked up an impressive total of his own. And Deena and Easterly, of course.

  Staven eyed the empty glass beside the bed. an out of energy, di he? He stuck his head out of the room. Nodded to the guard and summoned a page. "Lieutenant Wolfson needs a uniform, go find his barracks room, and bring him the works. And send up some food." He shut the door and looked back at the wizard.

  "You both knew those women, you knew the wizards, Garit and Rebo argued constantly and occasionally had come to blows." Staven shrugged. "The Irons weren't even on my list. I mean . . . they were so far down the list, on paper . . . "

  "But once Rebo was dead, and you possibly out of the Spear slot . . . I can see him spotting
an opportunity." Wolfson's eyes narrowed.

  "And when the various princes who ought to have been ahead of his sons in the succession made such a poor showing . . . "

  "Suddenly the kingdom was within reach." Wolfson swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Which makes sense. Iron starting the whole cycle? Seems unlikely. But that means the man who hired the assassins to kill Rebo is still out there."

  "With the head assassin. Bloody Hell." Staven started to cross his arms. Then swung his left down to his side. "We're right back where we started."

  "Trying to figure out who wanted both you and Rebo dead."

  "Yeah. So . . . If you're up to it, I've got an office on the fifth floor of the HQ building."

  "Meet you there, in an hour."

  Staven scowled at his piles of notebooks. "Right. So what it comes down to is nearly everyone hated Rebo, but not enough to actually kill him."

  Wolfson had a glass of something, milk? In one hand, a sandwich in the other. "So . . . maybe you were the main target? Couldn't have been Keith. No one is stupid enough to involve either you or Rebo in a plan to murder Keith."

  "They had my murder all set up." Staven ran his left hand through his hair. Flexed his right shoulder a bit. Could it really . . .

  "Someone under an illusion delivered the note. So that note that seemed to be from Rebo, for the purpose of harassing you . . . Did someone egg Rebo into writing the note? Perhaps Rebo thought you were being set up for a joke? Or a scandal? But did that person want it to go to you specifically, or was either Spear just fine? Why? A witness? No, they were set up to kill you. And Rebo, the poor sod, didn't realize that he was going to get cleared away as well." Wolfson took a bite as he sagged into a chair.

  Staven leaned back and eyed Wolfson. "Which brings us back to Garit, again. If I'd died and Rebo lived, Garit would already be sworn in as his Spear. Except . . . " the memory surfaced, as bright and clear as if it'd happened last night. "Oh. Bloody . . . Rebo said . . ." Staven had to blink and swallow. "Rebo said he thought he'd get the Bastard, but that I would do. Oh. Hell."

  "So they had a murder all set up, but didn't care which Spear? Or Rebo didn't care. He must have thought, I don't know, perhaps that they were going to play a joke on you? Or Fossi."

  Staven nodded. "Or Fossi. Fossi'd been riding him, trying to rein him in. I could easily see that setup turning into something embarrassing. He would have . . . Old Gods, he would have loved to embarrass either one of us."

  "So Rebo wrote the note, but whoever took the message sent it deliberately to you. Probably." Xen opened his eyes and frowned at the ceiling. "Who profits if Fossi dies? All these questions we've been asking, the worst anyone had to say about him was that he was a bastard. And frankly, that's a bit doubtful."

  "If Fossi died? If I was older, more experienced, they'd just bump me up into his slot in the army. Right now? I suppose, as you mentioned, they could have adopted someone . . . probably a career officer, who was older than Rolo. The Charter treats adopted children equally with natural. But a Spear dying is a different sort of problem than with a Crown dying. The Spear's children are much less likely to become king, so the bloodlines aren't crucial."

  "Ah. That explains why no one's too upset about me."

  Staven snorted. "They're upset enough. Every time they meet they emphasize issues of legitimacy and the importance of straight male line descent. Do you want to be Garit's Spear?"

  "No." The man shrugged. "I don't want it, and more importantly, I don't have the kind of trust from the Army that a Spear needs. I'm a wizard. People look at me funny. I wish Garit was older. He'd be a good Spear for one of the other candidates."

  Staven growled. "That job needs to go to Mirk. Pity there's not one more brother . . . " His stomach clenched suddenly. "My dear brother. The page said that was what Rebo said . . . Take this to the Spear Prince. Rebo never called me that. Never. I was 'the Hair.' Unless he was drunk, and then I was Spear Boy."

  "But we're pretty sure that wasn't Rebo. Someone else said Spear Prince and brother. So they were targeting you, specifically."

  Staven shook his head. "Maybe. But if Fossi was the target . . . only Garit and Mirk would make that mistake. Fossi was their brother."

  No. Oh, please, no.

  Xen bit his lip. "A stupid mistake, but under stress, trying to act like Rebo, stay in character . . . "

  "Garit and Rebo butted heads regularly. And there were rumors about Mirk's wife and Rebo. I thought that was just Rebo deliberately irritating Mirk by flirting in public, not that Marie would actually . . . "

  "But why kill Fossi?"

  "If Fossi had never been born, or hadn't been recognized as Leano's son, Rolo would have been the Spear, and Mirk the Crown. I suppose that the Council could rescind Rolo's confirmation as Crown and reinstate him as Spear to Mirk's Crown. Garit . . . would also have to eliminate Mirk."

  "Rolo's fit enough, works out regularly with Rufi, Fossi, and the troops. Mirk might see an opportunity . . . but Rolo's confirmed. If he fought for the position, he'd win. Mirk might be offered the position of Spear Heir. Garit . . . either position would be a huge gain in political power." Xen shoved back into his chair. "I don't like where this is going."

  "And we have nothing but conjecture."

  "Which is stupid. Garit isn't cold blooded and calculating . . . and I don't think he has a girlfriend who's ambitious enough, or whose family is ambitious enough, to assassinate either you or Fossi." Wolfson crossed his arms and scowled.

  But you've got a sister.

  Were you saving Amilie, or Garit, up there in the Council Hall?

  Staven eyed the wizard. I'm going to have to trust him. A little. And watch him. "So. Here's what we're going to do . . . after the funeral, there will be a gathering in the Palace. You are going to use one of those illusions, and look like Fossi. And you are going to act a bit drunk and get all over Garit and then Mirk. And we'll just see if one of them will say something a bit out of line."

  "Garit wouldn't . . . " Wolfson closed his eyes. "Right. And then I'll stay close to Mirk. In case someone is targeting him."

  Staven felt his lips pull back in a nasty grin. "And I'll stay close to discomfort him . . . and in case I need to protect him from you."

  "You could teach a mule about stubborn."

  "And of course, you'll do your best to annoy various other people as well. No telling who will try to kill you."

  "You hope."

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Winter 1393, day 20

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Xen was impressed that they could find so many black horses. Or maybe not. The equine population of the City must be at least a hundred thousand, and funerals happened all the time. He was perched on the back of the lead carriage, within an easy reach of Crown Prince Rolo and Princess Amilie. He figured that he could travel both of them easily. He didn't know Rolo well. He'd been introduced over and over to him as a child, but never known him as an adult. They kept their hands in their laps, now while they were on public display. But they leaned slightly toward each other. Supporting, not withdrawing. Good.

  There were other magicians with the other Royals. All the guards had charms against the most likely spells and tiny charmed glass globes that would glow whenever light bent in their vicinity. The witches had been busy, while he recuperated. And many still were. More invisible people walked along with the procession.

  At the cemetery, the invisibles all withdrew twenty feet. Xen could see the guards glancing at their globes, stitched in thin netting to their uniforms to keep their hands free. The balls all dimmed. Xen checked that the invisible people on either side of him were Nil and Quicksilver.

  King Leano spoke of the joy of holding his second grandson, knowing the future of the realm was secure.

  Prince Rolo spoke of the boys playing together, their first riding lessons, their first sword fighting lessons, watching Rebo grow to manhood.

  Princess Amalie spoke of her love an
d pride in her oldest child.

  Mirk spoke of his nephew, his bright intelligence and confidence, secure in his place in the world, his grievous departure leaving the world so uncertain of anyone's place in it.

  Staven spoke briefly, obviously grieved.

  Garit spoke of his boyhood friend, his own age in between the other two princes'. Minor adventures and pranks never before confessed. Never to be repeated.

  Then the prince was consigned to the earth and the parade resumed to its very near terminus at the Royal Palace.

  The invisible people reappeared discreetly from side rooms, and remained scattered about. Xen in uniform, the remainder in appropriately dark colors, if the cut was somewhat better designed for action than a formal gathering.

  His father was there, staying in the vicinity of the King and Queen.

  Xen surveyed the crowd. Fossi was off to the side, not too obviously in view. He turned away briefly to apply the illusion. Fortunately Fossi was tall enough that a few extra inches wouldn't be noticed.

  So, who shall I offend first.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Winter 1393, day 20

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Staven stood back and observed his relatives.

  And the gods.

  The God of War was staying near the king and queen.

  The dark old man was supposed to be the God of the Roads. He looked old enough to have traveled every road in the world. Possibly more than once. Lady Gisele was sticking to her matronly form, with a handsome gentleman escorting her who might be the God of Love.

  The God of Just Deserts, Lord Hell circulated, oblivious to the minor spills, slips and unfortunate words that followed him.