Growing Up Magic (Wine of the Gods Book 9)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Kar's nearly as good. He's a really smart horse." Carl maintained.

  Damien grinned at the family partisanship. "Second or third best horse ever. But I'll pay a couple of crowns each—yes, to you too—to get the stalls stripped."

  Carl grinned. "Great. I'll bet Mirk and Henri will do it."

  The tea party had devolved into knitting, with the older Guard bewildered and the fiery youngster showing Andrai, Jeinah and Vani some fancy stitch or whatever. Parsons abandoned her yarn tangle and steered Damien out. "Will you introduce me around this Sooty Duck? I want to meet all the women there."

  Damien nodded, and led the way. Three blocks later he discovered what a mistake it was. Everyone stared.

  "Ohh, look. Damien's got a date. A girlfriend."

  Lily snickered, and in no time at all was off with the whores, talking, with many glances back toward Damien.

  Barto chuckled. "Want me to slip her a bit of water?" He, she or it elbowed Damien.

  "No. Absolutely not. She's not that type. I'd find myself married inside of twenty-four hours, you know?"

  Bert overheard, and laughed harder than Barto. Damien could feel himself blushing. Lily circulated back as dinner arrived. Rather over done chicken with under cooked veggies. Lily crunched happily through it all, talking knowledgably about horses and wagons and long trips. They left as the place started getting busy, and the whores' work day started.

  "I think I've just ruined your bachelor reputation." Lily sounded like it was taking a lot of effort to be apologetic.

  "No matter. They'll find something else to gossip about soon enough." He thought that over. "They don't know, do they?"

  "About Lala? No. They've noticed she isn't there, and said she'd had a hot date with a rich fellow. Unfortunately since they think you're a rich fellow, that leaves the field wide open."

  Damien nodded. "You can eliminate the dregs . . . how about the other people at the Prince's orgy? How many of them qualify as rich?"

  "Most of them by Sooty Duck standards. Maybe a quarter have enough investments that they don't have to work. How close are you to that?"

  Damien gawped a bit. "Umm, halfway? Am I a suspect or just useful?"

  "Sorry, I'm insatiably curious. No, Captain Janic says you're too damn sane to be the one we want. If it weren't for the triplets, you'd have dropped out of consideration immediately. Like Bert or several dozen other regulars. You seemed to be more involved with Periti than anyone else, but everyone says that's just you, picking up more strays. They're all relieved because the triplets have an assured future with your freight company."

  Damien snorted. "Which probably explains why I couldn't get anyone to take the babies."

  "You got it."

  Back at Vani's the triplets looked like they'd have plenty of booties and caps for next winter. Deena wasn't even looking at what her fingers were doing as she chatted with Jeinah. Jeinah appeared to be spinning yarn and barely keeping up with her.

  Damien checked on the babies. Vani was just putting the fourth one down, and waved him out. He wondered how he could help the police investigate a serial murderer without them noticing the odd things in the basement. Speaking of which . . . he dropped down to the basement and found Andrai just finishing.

  "Nothing, as usual. I brought that Deena down to get more wool, so those snoops have seen the basement. Now, I'm going to trap the consoles, so don't you or Max touch them."

  "Trap?"

  "Just some DX15." She smiled sweetly.

  Right. Nasty stuff. It'd knock you out, mess up your short to long term memory and make you very open to suggestion. Highly illegal, favored by rapists and deep cover moles. If the guards found their high tech equipment, they would forget all about it.

  "Ugg. I'm going to be the concerned nephew tonight and sleep on your sofa."

  "Oh good. Cordelia's a bit nervy."

  Damien walked back out to the stables and fed the horses, checked the gates. Lily was watching from the stables when he crossed the yard.

  "I suppose I ought to get out my sword and carry it around. If it hasn't rusted to bits. I'm not even sure where it is. We've got a couple of crossbows we put in the wagons for the long trips."

  "Are you any good with the sword?"

  "I used to be. I don't think I've practiced seriously with it for . . . well, something rather frighteningly close to a quarter century. Maybe I'll just carry a club or something." He'd taught the kids a bit of karate, and he, Max and Andrai practiced semi regularly, including with a stick that doubled well for his old katana. "Are you all going to be inside the house tonight?"

  "Yes, with one of us awake at all times. I suspect Vani just over reacted to the idea of someone so vile."

  "I certainly hope so." Damien walked back to the house and double checked all the locks. Up in the attic he pulled out a wooden chest and there it was. Under the thick grease the traditionally forged blade was as sharp as when he'd put it away. He cleaned it up carefully, and replaced the horn plates on either side of the tang, pegged them and then started wrapping the strings. Hopefully he wouldn't need it. He took a last look out at the moonlit street from a dormer window. Something moved down the lane, tall, a man.

  Chapter Eight

  Early Fall 1387

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  He set the sword down and hustled quietly down the steps, tapped on Andrai's door as he passed and then looked through the peephole. Yes, someone was strolling down the middle of the lane. Andrai ghosted up behind him and took a look.

  "Big fellow. Let's go talk to him." She unlocked the door and headed straight out.

  She doesn't believe in magic. Damien was on her heels, as the figure turned, clearly visible in the moonlight. Tall, at least two meters, heavy, moving like there was a good deal of muscle under the fat that bulked him out. Damien nearly ran into Andrai as she jolted to a stop.

  "You! You're the one! You filthy rapist!"

  Damien blinked in confusion, then it suddenly clicked. "Cordelia's father?"

  "Cordelia?" The man strolled toward them, his voice warm and deep. "I have a daughter? Well, actually I'm sure I have a great number of them. But you, oh yes I do so love shocking the old biddies, the stuck up, dried up, too-good-for-sex old maids. Hmm, you know, maybe I should reconsider my bait. Tell me, do you think the people who killed my brother would be more likely to show up if I changed to killing old women?" He stopped and turned his head, to study the three women on the porch of Vani's house. "Or nice young wives? Virgin witches or, oh, an old biddy in training. Did the government manage to kill Barry? Or was it a group of witches? One of my fellow gods? I'll keep right on killing until your government tells me who did it. I'm sure they know." He stared at them. They returned silence for silence, until his lips curled up. "I believe one of you will be my next . . . sacrifice to truth." He strolled toward them. "Eenie, meanie, yes I am a meany, one of you will be miney, mo."

  At his first step toward the women, Lily and Deena drew their swords and advanced to meet him. Damien had his heavy knife, but also a commando's training, and he quickly moved around to flank the man. Andrai had her hand down in her skirts, oh, surely she didn't have a pistol?

  The man's head turned and his eyes widened. "Indeed? How interesting!" He glanced from Damien to Andrai. "Oh yes, I want very much to talk to the two of you."

  Vani, Lilly and Deena folded abruptly, and the man advanced on Andrai.

  "Momma!" Cordelia's horrified voice from the front steps jerked Andrai's head around.

  "Get into the basement and slide the bolt!" Damien snapped, moving in on the hulk. Cordelia disappeared back inside and the man chuckled as he trotted after her. Andrai whipped up the laser, and folded herself.

  "Dear me, I'm so boring everyone around me is just falling asleep."

  Damien blinked and sank to the ground . . . I will not, I will not, I will not . . . The man was gone, the full moon nearly behind the houses across the street. Damien ran for the door, stooping to
pickup Andrai's dropped laser. He whipped around the corner to the trap door. It was standing wide open. He hit the concealed light switch . . . lots of broken jars and jagged glass everywhere. The man sprawled over the open radio cabinet, starting to stir. Cordelia was curled in the far corner. Damien stepped back and grabbed the broom, and roughly swept the broken glass and sticky contents off the steps, and picked his way across to Cordelia. Her pulse was strong, her jammies undisturbed. He picked her up and took her upstairs.

  "The man in the street chased you into the basement. You threw stuff at him, he slipped on the steps and hit his head, fell on the glass, and went away. He was more dazed than hurt. You were afraid to move and stayed there for hours, until Uncle Damien came and swept the glass away and carried you back to bed." He tucked her into bed and went back down to deal with the wizard or whatever he was. Brother of a God?

  The man was almost awake. Perfect.

  "These women are boring, you don't want to bother with them. You miss your brother, you should swim out to see him. You can't see me. You really need to go see your brother and you feel like a nice moonlit swim. You are going to get up and walk right down to the dock and dive in and swim to see your brother. I'm invisible to you."

  Damien kept repeating himself as the man woke up looking dazed, and staggered out of the house. In the quiet moonlight he looked around, then stumbled down the street. "Go see your brother. Go see your brother. Go see your brother. Swim right out there. See the island that looks like a cone? That's where he is." Not sure if his attempt at psychological invisibility would work, Damien fell back and followed from a distance as the big man staggered out onto a long pier and flung himself off.

  He retreated to the house, and pulled the four sleeping women back inside their homes. He dropped into the basement and concealed the radio again. Then he walked guard all around the houses until the sun rose and Deena exploded out of the front door of Vani's house.

  "He's gone."

  "Old Gods! What happened? Last I recall Cordelia came out and then . . . I went to sleep?"

  "You all folded. So did I. I woke up a couple of hours ago. Cordelia was down in the basement in the corner. I think she beaned the guy with a jar of something, or maybe he stepped on the glass. Andrai's going to, well, actually she'll probably think the mess well worth it."

  Deena staggered all over, checking everyone in both houses, and surveying the mess in the basement. Damien stayed outside, pacing, and finally decided it was close enough to dawn and fed the horses. He stirred up the kitchen fire at Vani's and filled the tea kettle.

  Deena came back in, swearing. "Didn't you call out the Guard?"

  Damien shrugged. "He was gone. Everyone was, well, sleeping. I didn't want to leave the place, and, well, he was gone."

  "Sleeping! I don't believe in magic. Will you go fetch my d . . . Captain Janic?"

  "Certainly." He saddled Kar and made a fast trip to the building that housed the King's Own's administrative offices and their intelligence division. He didn't get any further than the lobby, but a private was dispatched, and Janic showed up a few minutes later. He had a troop down in the docks district shortly after. Everyone had woken, and everyone gave their descriptions, even a shaken Cordelia, who whispered about being too afraid to walk across a glass strewn basement to see if the murderer had gone, until Uncle Damien had come and gotten her.

  Damien crawled into bed sometime before noon and was roused much too soon afterwards by Janic senior.

  "I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

  Damien yawned. "Two. One, finish the handle on my sword, so the wizard will be more impressed before he puts me to sleep next time, and two, take the sightseeing tour of the God Ba'al's statues, and see if there's a family resemblance. And what I'll do then, if a real god is involved, I haven't a clue. Maybe pack up the whole family for a long vacation in the country."

  "Good idea. I'll arrange a boat for a quick trip over."

  Chapter Nine

  Early Fall 1387

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Damien finished the string wraps of the katana handle and grabbed his knit cap. Magnets couldn't hurt, after all.

  The boat Janic arranged was a beauty, with navy insignia, a sailed and oared galley of some sort, not terribly large and completely open. All it needed was a dragon on the upswept prow to pass for a Viking longboat. Lilly and Deena were with them, some older officers and the crew. It was crowded, and Damien was a bit shocked to find himself chatting to General Rufi Negue.

  "I don't think I've ever seen this boat before." Damien searched frantically for neutral ground.

  "We don't use it much any more. The royal family has gotten too big and too used to comfort to take picnics out to the islands. But the royal family is off on the new yacht, and this one was just sitting there. Has nothing to do with someone loosing a bet. Right Captain?"

  "Of course not, Sir!"

  "Of course Captain Devrys will return to his usual command after it is out of drydock. No doubt a sadder but wiser man for having . . . well, no matter."

  The Captain snorted and made a show of examining the single square sail.

  The General studied Damien. "You've lived in the city for how long, and haven't taken this little trip?"

  "Twenty-seven years, now, I suppose. And I've a business to run, and frankly, little appetite to see something that everyone says is really hideous." He eyed the General uncertainly. "I guess it happened the year before I got here, but everyone was still talking about it. Claiming a statue actually stood up and walked."

  "Yep. Mind you it wasn't very agile." The General seemed to be suppressing a smile.

  "Err, I suppose not. All these . . . things I keep seeing are making it really difficult to not believe in magic. But . . . walking statues?"

  The General's eyes twinkled. Damn it the rumors never said the man was totally charming. Was this the same charisma the king was said to have? "So what is the most uncanny thing you've ever seen?"

  Damien sighed. "Saw a girl turn a wolf into a sheep, then her daddy came along and turned himself into goat. I don't think I've trusted my eyes since then."

  "Yes, that does sound a bit startling." The boat lowered its sail and the oars were run out to bring the boat around and aim it at a sandy beach on the island they were passing. They beached the boat and disembarked over the forward sides. The General strode ahead, up a well traveled path. "I stripped the temple, brought all the statues here. Since then they've gradually moved all the Ba'al statues in the Kingdom up here. Although the magicians I know assured me that only one of them could possibly get up and walk. I wanted that one hidden among all the rest, making worshiping the right one difficult."

  The first one they came to was life size, and a dead ringer for the fellow in the lane. Almost.

  "That's him." Lily sounded aghast.

  Deena studied it, then walked to the next.

  They all quite clearly were taken from a single individual.

  "The eyes are wrong. The slightly squinty one is on the wrong side." Deena said, suddenly.

  Damien nodded. "That's it. I knew there was something off."

  The General and Captain Janic walked around, looking at them all.

  "It's not much of a squint, but it is always on the right eye." Captain Janic made a face and looked up at the crest of the island. "Shall we view what is supposed to be the original, begging your pardon, Rufi?"

  The General chuckled. "Oh, by all means. The weak of stomach are urged to hang back a bit." He led off, but halted suddenly as he reached the crest. The soldiers made a concentrated rush to his side. Damien's stomach lurched, and he sidestepped off the trail and started circling the hill top.

  "I thought he was calling me." The deep voice sounded sad and tired. "I thought . . . I had to come to him. But he's gone. I can't find him. Did you kill him?"

  "No. Did you kill those two women in his temple?"

  "They were just whores. Nothing. Who killed my brother? W
ho did this thing? Witches or gods? Tell me."

  "What is your name?" The General was keeping the person talking while his people fanned out.

  No need for Damien to cram a cap full of magnets on his head and creep around. He pulled out the cap and put it on anyway. I wonder if I'm still invisible to him. I can end this now, no more murders, no threat to Cordelia. But can I do it without blowing my cover—not that it isn't, probably, already gone. But there's a tissue thin cover of "Traveler from Verona" that might still be clinging . . .

  "Edmund Sigma. Funny, they haven't called me that for hundreds of years. The God of Vice . . . but in a thousand years I've sort of worn away. They don't need me any more. No one big all inclusive Bad God any more. They'll have a God of Orgies, and a Dirty Old Man, a Pedophile. Probably Gods of Drunks and Gamblers and Murderers. Isn't that strange? I guess Barry and I just aren't wanted anymore. Maybe he just . . . faded away, from disbelief." He hung his head for a moment. Then started chuckling. "Except, I know better. I know what gods really are."

  Damien stuck his head up enough to spot the man, god, whatever. Total Fruitcake. He eased up behind a spindly bush, to eye the footing. Sigma had his back to a huge statue, and faced a dozen troops with swords. Three men with crossbows stood above and to the side of the rank of troops around the General.

  "Will you surrender to us?"

  Sigma laughed. "Do you think you can put a god on trial? Bah. You cannot even touch me."

  Damien slipped around his bush, and flattened behind another. The statue was sitting, arms out to the front, in Ba'al's standard pose. Not much of Sigma showed.