by Pam Uphoff
Wolfson's teeth flashed in a quick grin. "Yep. Poor Garit, destined to be a senior army officer, just like he seems to be trying to be."
Staven glared. Thought about looming, but Wolfson was four inches taller than he was.
"And look at the two of you. Shoulder to shoulder, double teaming me. You two are going to be good at this spear and crown thing." The corners of the man's eyes were crinkling with amusement.
Staven swapped a quick glance with Garit. We are, aren't we?
He turned back to . . . his cousin-of-some-sort. "Lieutenant Wolfson, why don't you go do something about those people you rescued from the God of Art and the Goddess of Mercy? Or maybe do something nasty to another god."
"Yes, sir!"
Garit snickered. "It's just as well you're in Magic Central, rather than being force fit into the succession. Since we seem to be having problems with wizards and witches. Not to mention gods. I have a nasty suspicion that we are going to need you right where you are."
We. Staven suppressed a smile. Garit's going to be a damn good Spear. Now I just have to figure out how to be a king.
The Royal Family
King Haro's Descendants:
1st son Spear Kersh's grandsons:
Grandbi, aged 56, never married
Harrol, 53, married, eight daughters
2nd son King Rebo
Spear Rufi, 82
Great grandson—Xen Wolfson
King Leano, 67
Fossi, 50
Rolo, 42
Staven, 23
Rebo, 20—12 children; 2 sons
arguably legitimate
2 daughters
Mirk, 38
2 daughters
infant son, Kel
5 daughters—7 grandchildren
Garit, 22, unmarried
3rd son Benni Negue, 82
Carlo, 64
Charl, 43, widowed, no children
Denro, 62
Dustu, 40, married, 4 daughters
Edvar,60
Edvin, 41, married, two daughters
Elrich, 39, never married
4th son Marius Negue, 81
Flandry, 54, never married
Franki, 31, never married
2 daughters—married to Trehems and Irons
King Haro's Spear, Heso the Iron Man's great grandson:
Fidel Iron, 57, married a granddaughter of King Haro
Farit, 24, unmarried
Thomu, 19, unmarried
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re just celebrated our thirty-third anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I "retired" to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and worked as the treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush, unsolicited manuscripts, for Baen Books (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Other Titles by Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Three Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Empire of the One (2014)
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Fantasy:
Demi God
Excerpt from an Upcoming Release
Empire of the One
Pam Uphoff
Chapter One
Le Havre, Europe, One World, Empire of the One
Late Fall 1393 Post Exile
2 Furkan 1395 Year of the Prophets
Endi stepped out of thin air and took his first deep breath of the air of an industrial city. Petrol exhaust, ozone, dust, rubber, wharfs, brain-fried staggering drunks . . .
"See, tol ya it was Aliens beaming down to eat our brains. But did you run? Noooooo . . . " the man, bald on top with the faded remains of grey hair straggling greasily down to his shoulders paused in puzzlement, possibly with the realization that he hadn't run either.
"The more things change, the more they stay the same. Morning, gentlemen." Endi pulled out a hip flask, uncorked it and handed it across the alley. Fortunately the only people to see them arrive weren't reliable witnesses. In fact, they were probably the most useful people the newcomers could have encountered.
The three . . . winos or whatever they were called here, passed the flask around, and handed it back. Empty, of course.
"Good stuff! Well hey, I guess you Space Aliens aren't so bad after all."
His language was a mix of Arbish and Anglish. Perfectly understandable, and no doubt they'd quickly pickup which words were supposed to be which language.
The two others nodded.
"Got any more of that?" the one with the dark hair asked.
"Not with me, I'm afraid." Endi shrugged. "And I just got here, so I don't know anything about the money here, either. What do they use for money? Do you know where I can sell some gold?"
He glanced back, the wall looked like solid metal, the wall of a warehouse or some such, a single door further down looked unused. Quicksilver . . . no, Kail turned away from a spot where the illusion covering the gate matched the metal of the building, bumped out a few inches. I really have to not even think about the old names.
The trio of winos were splitting their attention between Endi and the prospect of more alcohol, and the three women.
The one with the short hair grinned, showing horrible teeth, and stepped toward Kail.
He bumped into a solid shield, and Kail shook her head. "Space Alien women kill their mates and feed them to their spider children. We will try to refrain from molesting you."
Short hair looked like that hadn't percolated through his stewed brains. He shoved a couple more times then gave up and followed the allure of vino.
They followed the winos a few blocks, watching the neighborhood change from warehouses to old warehouses to shabby businesses. Further on there seemed to be some concrete apartments amongst small old houses. The reek of broken sewers joined the mix.
The first wino was explaining about cash cards. "I dunno how a Space Alien would go about getting an ID card—that's an identification card—or a bank account, so you just stick to the cash cards and everything will be fine."
Endi followed him into a building with barred windows and a loud buzzer that apparently signaled a lock unlocking. Electricity. I'll bet everything runs on it. The rest of them stayed on the street, looking around. Their riding clothes, apart from the rather pointy toed boots fit in reasonably well in this shabby neighborhood, but they were still drawing attention.
Inside, a man gave him a sharp look over, weighed and measure the gold cube he handed over, and handed him a card, a bit smaller than a poker card, in exchange. The wino seemed to think that was the end of the exchange and led the way back out.
On the sidewalk, his companions were watching a beefy black haired man walking toward them, two pals at his shoulders. On both sides of the street few other men were doing the 'just showing up and lounging around' act.
It was more than enough to ring his alarm bells. Endi stepped up beside Este.
"So, you new around here?" Black-hair asked. He looked the women over and nodded appreciatively. "Nice, but this is my territory, and only my women work here."
"We just got into town and we're not in the business. We'll be out of here in a few minutes." Este was taller and broader than the local man, but Endi was willing to bet the Oners were seeing just two men, against what looked like at least eight Oners. If necessary, the error of their assumptions would be impressed upon their bodies. Forcibly. But Endi didn't want the witches doing anything noticeable, if the local women weren't trained to fight. He half closed his eyes. The leader had a faint glow, the other men even less. Huh. No magic. Well, I suppose I ought not be too surprised. That's how it is at home, too. A range of magic. Just because their first probes were with strongly magic people, I shouldn't have leaped to the conclusion that they were all strong. They sent their best, their strongest, just as we now have. Their army was more ordinary, probably more representative of their whole population.
"You'll be out of here now, but the ladies are welcome to stay."
"If we set up shop somewhere it should be close to here." Kail walked around him and looked up at the man. "We are not in your line of business, if I understand you correctly. We just buy and sell a few things and need a shop. What are rents like around here?"
Trust a witch to not be insulted. And make a man believe her. Her influence was so subtle Endi could barely feel it.
Kail was just a Crescent Moon, but she could channel. And she was very powerful. Their expert in the dimensions. She was the one who'd found this world. Who'd spotted the stylized unicorn on the government buildings, and realized they'd found their enemy.
"They run about eight unis a square meter. Dirt cheap." The man was actually acting friendly. "I know a man that has a place . . . "
Fifteen minutes later they had the key to a hideously warped and rundown building with a store in front, work space in back and enough 'office space' upstairs for them to live in.
"All we need is something to make and sell." Este snickered.
"We need to go shopping and see what sorts of things they use that we can make." Deep said. "Let's report, get moved in and then explore some more."
Chapter Two
Taupo, New Zealand, Pacific Region
1395 Year of the Prophets
". . .and you will be the next President of the Empire."
Izzo ran a hand through his short blonde hair. "Lady Huem, you know you’re not supposed to attempt personal fortune telling." His favorite sword was in a display rack over the bookcase. Pity it was a sport blade. Blunt rolled tip, the edges unsharpened. He could neither fall on it nor slash his wrists.
"Oh, but you’re so alone! I thought I’d help." She pouted her purple stained lips and hunched her pink clad shoulders. The thick layer of makeup failed altogether to hide the wrinkles of advancing age. "I’m quite certain that if you leave now and take that Paris job, you’ll at least find True Love. You’re just ripe for career advancement, but you’re getting on a bit for a first marriage. You should get out more. And there's a huge wave of potential over Paris, right now!"
Potential for mayhem, if half the dreams around here are prescient.
Lady Heum blinked and rubbed her forehead. "You have to go find that man, you have to save . . . someone. You . . . Sorry, was I mumbling?"
Izzo stomped hard on a sudden spurt of adrenaline. One! I hate it when a serious precog hits. Especially when it involves me. Or seems to. "You" could be anyone. Really.
"Lady Huem, you are one of our best Diviners, but even so, personal futures are very unreliable, second only to deliberate attempts to force the subject of a precog. Doing both just isn’t a good idea. So why don’t you have a little meditation before lunch. I’m sure you’ll see it’s all for the best. And while you're meditating, if you must think about an individual, perhaps you might consider the president?"
He escorted her graciously to the door and bowed her out. Closed the door behind her and leaned back on it.
"I really need to get out of the Precog and Divination department." That wasn't a real precog, it was not aimed at me. Oh Bloody One! What someone am I supposed to save? My True Love?
There was a snicker from the side room. Ydro was his assistant, AKA recorder, filer, cross-filer and search expert. He was a very bright young man, a Neartuone. The boy’d lucked out, getting a better than average spread of Prophets' genes from his high Halfer mother and Clostuone father. And genes for intelligence from both sides.
"But all the old ladies love you, and they're all trying so hard to find the right girl for you." Computer keys clicked. "Umm, no jobs open at your grade in the Colonies. There’s a real plum in Interior Relations, though. Central District. Senior Analyst."
"Jump straight to Paris? I was thinking a colony position first, not Homestead so my accent doesn't backslide. Paris . . . " He glanced out his window at the trees and mountains. According to the books, strong psychics needed isolation and tranquility. Long solitary walks in untrammelled forests. In practice, they mostly sat out on shaded patios admiring the scenery from a distance while they gossiped. "Besides, Paris Interior relations is mostly internal spying on the political scene, hunting for the next conspiracy. Not my preferred sort of analysis. And a senior analyst at Interior is a big jump in grade from a senior analyst in Precog. Plus they'll want someone with more relevant experience than I have."
"Your accent is fine, maybe even a little too snooty. In Paris, you'll fit right in. Think of the adventure. You too could take part in the next purge. Find out what all this precog turmoil and potential is all about." Ydro grinned. "Discover who really sank the old president's re-election."
"That was pure serendipity, a dumb clerk sending the wrong files to the wrong person." The challenge . . .
"Ha! So, how are you going to get ahead without going to Paris? You’d be great at ‘the game,’ you know." Ydro sounded wistful.
"I’d rather be ambitious in a smaller pond, thank you. Especially with the mixed bag of pre-cogs we've had lately. War and blood. No thank you." Must be realistic . . . But I could do it . . .
"And you could take me with you. Think about all the opportunities I’d have in Paris."
A rapid tapping at the door made Izzo jump. He swung it open. Huem was back, with Lady Jeep and Lady Hoax. Jeep was in orange. Hoax was in everything, at least three layers of it.
"They had precogs too!"
"About the president?"
Hoax dismissed that with a wave. "No, no. Your True Love! It's very exciting; you had a target on your back!"
Izzo looked over at the smirking Ydro. "Shoot my CV off to that plum job, will you?" He looked back at the ladies. Sighed. "Come in and tell me all about it."
"Oh, Sweetie, it’s a good one!" Jeep reached over and pinched his cheek.