Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  Alarm. He knew how much trouble killing her was going to cause. Why hadn't those idiots just driven past and shot her, like ordered. No brains at all, and half of them on their way to the doc.

  Rael prodded a bit. :: Tell the boss . . . :: She made it feel like his own thought.

  One clear sharp picture.

  Mayor Eglo. Really? The mayor of Montevideo has Low Town gang connections?

  Noise erupted on the far side of the door. Their heads turned. "Go see what that is. Stop it."

  The three from the beach crowded out. With the door open, Rael could hear crowd noises, smoke and alcohol. Yep, a low class bar, getting rowdy.

  The crash of breaking glass. . . shrill female voices . . . That cannot possibly be Pudge . . .

  Rael leaned on her mental connection . . . :: Go see . . . ::

  Jorge cursed and followed the others, slamming the door behind him.

  Another door creaked. A whiff of outside air.

  Rael turned her head as far as it would go. "Kitchen? Bruno? How did you know I'd be here?"

  "I caught the end of the fight, I recognized them and knew where they'd be going." The kid scrambled over to the inside door and clicked the lock. Smart kid!

  "One, now you've impressed me." She turned and eyed Bruno.

  "I don't know why I let the kid talk me into this." The man scowled down at her.

  "Yeah, cops might have been a better idea."

  Kitchen looked indignant. "The cops? What would they do? Get a search warrant in the morning? I brought the only friends of yours I know about."

  Bruno, on the other hand . . . "Hey look! All tied up, now you have to listen to me. Not that it will do me any good. So what do I get out of this? Other than screwed because I can't get any Dream to make the pain bearable?"

  "Dream! You take Dream?"

  "Just . . . tiny bits. It doesn't show up in the standard blood tests."

  "But why?"

  "Because I'm bruised and battered and tired and old."

  "Bruno, untie me."

  "Why? So you can turn me down again? And for rescuing you, I'm not even going to get a kiss, am I?"

  Rael suppressed a groan. "No. Why are you so grumpy? Withdrawal symptoms?"

  "Dream isn't addictive."

  "Yeah, of course not. Bruno, what do you most want in the world?"

  "What I most want in all the world?" He scowled at her. "Same thing you want. To be healthy, strong, flexible. To not have all these aches and pains . . . to not be staring retirement in the face."

  Rael blinked. "Actually . . . What I most want in the world is to be untied." Her eyes searched the room, and spotted the contents of her bag on the desk. "And . . . I just may be able to give you what you want. Untie me."

  He scowled, but pulled out a pocket knife.

  "You've got two broken fingers. Didn't you notice?"

  "No." Rael flexed her shoulders as the ropes gave and eyed the swollen crooked outside fingers of her right hand. "I've got nerve damage. I forgot all about the inadvisability of punching, when I can't make a proper fist. Can't feel a thing, though."

  She staggered over to the desk, and grabbed her flask. She cradled it awkwardly, to unscrew the lid left handed, swallowed a jot. It hit like a bombshell. An instant flush of heat all through her body, followed by an impulse to grab Bruno . . . Holy One! She took a deep breath, and focused on screwing the lid back on before she dared look at him. Yummy. She controlled a whole bunch of impulses, and handed him the flask. "There you go."

  Kitchen exchanged glances with Bruno. "Your Withy Buddies are out there, creating a big fuss."

  Bruno snorted. "I'll go fetch them." He unscrewed the lid of the flask.

  She bit her lip. "Be careful. There's at least four of them. And I don't recommend drinking that here, unless you want to really, really like the women out there."

  He looked her up and down.

  "No. And don't share it around or spike drinks with it. It'll spread. It's full of healing spells, and it's an aphrodisiac and fertility aid. And if you do share it, use a rubber if you don't want to end up with more children than Endi Dewulfe."

  His eyes narrowed. "Is this how he . . . "

  Rael put a finger to her lips. "Shhh! I probably just blew a dozen secrecy orders. Go get Jude and Pudge out the front door, while I disappear." She eyed her fingers . . . pulled the third finger out straight. Then the little one. It looked a lot better, even though she was probably going to get yelled at by doctors, later.

  He shuddered. "Tough little Chica." He unlocked the door and walked out, tipping up the flask . . . Men, not a bit of common sense anywhere to be found.

  Kitchen hesitated at the door. "I'd better go too. I know the place . . ."

  Rael grit her teeth. "Had all the sensible reactions to danger you could handle today? Tell them I'm heading out the back door. Tell them it's time for them to get out too."

  She scrambled into clothes as the noise level rose. She turned off the light, and slunk down. Ow, ow, ow. My back. Opened the inside door. The lights were dim and moving, the noise was mostly happy laughter, talk, music . . . the action was getting pretty rowdy . . . She edged down the short hall to see what the disturbance was. The bartender was yelling something, threw his hands up and walked around the end of the bar. " . . . in public! In my bar!"

  She straightened, and caught a quick glimpse of four women stripping the clothes off Bruno, who seemed to be trying to return the favor. Pudge and Jude and who else? She spotted Jorge, but couldn't tell if he was joining in or trying to stop the momentum toward nudity. She fought down an impulse to join in and slipped back through the office and out the back door. How much trouble can Pudge and Jude get into anyway? It's still broad daylight. And from the looks of it, they'll be thrown out any minute now.

  The late afternoon sun and long shadows gave her a direction, but she turned away from the bar. . . a detour around a few blocks would be prudent . . . She turned around as the noise and customers spilled out the front door. No sign of her rescuers. But it looked like the party mood was spreading out. And apparently clothing was optional. She fought down another impulse to join in, and trotted away . . . I feel pretty damn good for having been a basket case fifteen minutes ago! She was just a few blocks from somewhat better bars, and managed to hail a cab.

  She and the doctor were examining a scan of her hand when the Investigator walked in.

  "I can see that those two fingers have been broken, what, perhaps three weeks ago? But it doesn't look like any additional harm was done. You should have left the splint on."

  I guess it's a good thing I pulled those fingers out straight. That potion heals bones fast.

  The doctor glanced at the policeman and nodded politely. "Your back looks fine. The rest is just scrapes and bruises. Painkillers and anti-inflammatories, if you can't spell it yourself. Put the splint back on and see your regular doctor for a follow up in ten days." He then abandoned her to the scowling cop.

  "The street cam recording was quite lurid. You know, we really do like to hear about women being attacked, and kidnapped off the street. In broad daylight."

  "Oh . . . well, yes, I can see that. Umm, that fellow I high kicked may be that fellow with the wired shut mouth, being fitted up with a whiplash collar two doors down the hallway."

  "Oh, good. For a second there I thought you might have killed someone and barely noticed." He slapped his pad down in irritation. "I'm busy today. Do come and tell us all about it tomorrow."

  Rael watched him stomp off. Pissed off or not, he had a couple of uniformed cops with him and was pointing them at the whiplash collared fellow. Gee, he acts like he can't decide if I'm a troublemaker or well, just really irritating. But he did hustle down here. Is he really busy, or just mad at me? Has he decided I’m not the killer, or just run out of personnel? Street cam, eh? I’ve gotten so used to a cop following me around, I stopped noticing.

  The morning news led with the four block riot in Low Town.


  "No arrest were made, but superstar Bruno of the Montevideo Flash was served with a summons for public intoxication and lewd behavior. A police spokesman said there were a total of four hundred and fifty two citations given out to two hundred and seventy people. There was no violence nor any illegal drug usage reported." The newsie on the vid show was trying to look serious and disapproving.

  The older man was more relaxed. "Sounds more like a street party than a riot. In other news . . . "

  Rael made a mental note to buy a new flask. That stuff comes in handy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tuesday, 22 Safar 1398

  Senior Investigator Ahxe summoned Uqpu with a wave. "Got a little something here to salve your wounded vanity." He clicked the replay. "Yesterday morning, traffic cam down along the boardwalk." He leaned back and watched a stiff, not-limping, really, woman beat the crap out of six men in about as many seconds. "If she hadn't misstepped, and missed that grab, I suspect she'd have taken out the other four."

  "Holy One!" Puppy hissed as the car pulled up and Rael was slung into the trunk. "Any idea where they took her? We could . . . No?"

  "No. As soon as I saw this, I put out an general ID hunt. She was at the hospital. I dashed over and found her cheerfully looking over the x-rays of that hand that missed the grab. Nothing broken, they sent her home. Ymme's backtracking her on street cams, from where she picked up the cab that dropped her at the hospital. I suggested she come in today to talk about it."

  "Huh." Puppy reached and replayed the recording. "I've seen Speed in both karate and fencing matches, but that was . . ."

  Ox nodded. "About as fast as I've ever seen. I guess you can't judge a Princess by her mass and reach."

  "Kind of makes you wonder how impaired she actually is." He scowled at the screen. "I know we're a backwater District, and most of the top talent leaves, but . . . You know, I don't think that was actually good for my ego."

  Ox sighed. "Yeah. I'm not sure I could physically fight four men, hit someone ten meters away with a stun spell, and hold a shield that can handle gunfire at the same time. Hope I never have to try it."

  A light tap on the door. Ymme stuck his head in. "She's here, and so far it looks like she came from Low Town. There was, umm, that incident yesterday afternoon. Want to bet she was there?"

  "The riot? She probably started it. Want to sit in on this?"

  "You bet." He glanced over his shoulder and stepped aside to usher in the princess.

  She looked about eighteen, sweet, innocent and unmarked.

  Not a bruise in sight.

  She grinned, completely unrepentant. "Well, I got a bit more exercise yesterday than I'd planned. Not to mention a totally unintentional own goal, so to speak."

  "Indeed. We're so impressed. I'm glad to hear the fall was accidental. I was afraid you might be insane enough to have wanted to be captured."

  She snickered. "No, but now that you mention it, trolling for Bad Guys could be useful. Some other time. Yesterday I had a brief chat with a fellow called Jorge before he was called off to deal with another problem."

  Puppy stiffened.

  Ox glowered. "Jorge? As in Ohje Neartuone? He was a solid lead in our investigation of the local Dream manufacturing problem. Unfortunately he slipped out of what ought to have been a watertight case just a bit before you arrived to darken my doorstep. He's been clean, since. Until this. We should be able to pick him up on the strength of your complaint. You are going to file a complaint, right?"

  Rael interlaced her fingers. He realized with a bit of shock that her casual glance was to see that she'd gotten it right. The way she casually moved her left fingers to bend her right fingers so they would look more natural . . . That's why she missed that grab. She can't feel some of those fingers. Can't move them.

  "I, umm, under the circumstances, felt I had sufficient cause to read the fellow's surface thoughts. Thing is . . . when he thought about 'the boss' he pictured Mayor Eglo."

  Ox pushed himself to his feet. Leaned on his desk and tried to loom. "Will you please go back to Paris? You don't seem to have the faintest grasp of what is legal, what constitutes legal evidence, or how a modern police force operates." Sigh. "Ogto had so much money from untraceable sources that I figured he must be the drug kingpin."

  "Well, the position isn't really exclusive is it? Or maybe Ogto was blackmailing the Mayor." Rael was grinning . . . then slowly sobered. "You know . . . something happened at that party to trigger at least three people to try to kill him. If he was blackmailing people . . . Beats me how he'd get the dirt on multiple people, but that night at least three people were suddenly murderously angry."

  Puppy thumped the desk with his fist. "And so, as you say, something must have happened. Perhaps he said the wrong thing, and his victims suddenly realized . . . "

  "Who the blackmailer was."

  ***

  "I can't believe you two went into a Low Town dive to rescue me." Rael glanced over at the stairs. Raod wasn't down yet.

  Pudge snickered. "We were just going to be a bit loud and rowdy, then leave. I . . . we pretended to be fighting over a man—Bruno, since he was on our minds—and then we yelled at the bartender when he told us to shut up and some other people started yelling . . . I had no idea it was so easy to start a bar brawl. Bruno came out and bought us drinks, ick! Horrible cheap whiskey! He laughed at us and doped them up with something, handed it around to some other people and, and . . . "

  "You kissed him." Jude blushed. "And then I did, and . . . instead of fighting over him, we decided to share him. And some other women joined in, and then some more guys and . . . Oh One! Right. There. In. Public!" She buried her head in her hands.

  Pudge nodded. "Maybe I'll get some plastic surgery. So no one will ever recognize me. For a bit there, I was hoping the hangover would kill me, but I feel great, now. Pity. Now I can think about what I did."

  Rael checked again that Raod wasn't within earshot. "Guys . . . What if you get pregnant?" Endi's Von Neumann's potion! Do I confess or keep my mouth shut?

  Double sighs.

  "I'd love to have a baby, but . . . well, three husbands and nothing." Jude looked glum. "Raod is so lucky. We were about to form the heart sick barrenesses club when she took. Lucky dog!"

  Pudge nodded. "I know I need to marry a Withione to get pregnant . . . but none of them seem to be interested in . . . marrying down. Raod's babies are so beautiful, and I want one . . . I think I'll just give up on marrying and have a fling with a Withione." She sighed. "It won't be as fun as that orgy, though."

  Rael bit her lip . . . "Maybe there was a Withione there." And I ought to shut up.

  Double sighs.

  "Such a pity Bruno isn't one. You sure were right about him, Rael." Jude went all dewy-eyed.

  Pudge snickered. "Did you try that blonde gigolo type? I think I knew him in school. Oh my! What he could do to those nerves with spells!"

  "Pudge! I think he was a male prostitute!"

  "Really? Women pay . . . "

  "No! Men! Honestly, haven't you ever read about homosexual . . . "

  "He wasn't acting homosexual. At. All."

  Jude sniffed, exaggerated lift of the nose. Then relaxed and grinned. "And those nerve spells! Ooo, they were fun to play around with."

  Pudge's eyes widened. "You mean you did it back? I didn't even think . . ."

  Shoes clipped down the stairs. Raod and Jaes, with a baby apiece.

  The conversation immediately flipped to babies, as Pudge and Jude cuddled and cooed at babies, and generally acted like idiots.

  Rael shook her head. I must be deficient in mothering instincts.

  I wonder if Endi's—Xen's, dammit—magic potion will work for, well, any men. Maybe they still have to be strong magically, just, maybe not definitely superior to the woman's count.

  Not that it matters to me. Academic interest only.

  She slipped upstairs to catch up on her mail.

  ***

  A note from
Bunny.

  They haven't kicked me out. And I had a long talk with my replacement. Mayor Eglo is going to get a shock, Friday.

  Rael snickered. "I'll have to have a little chat with her, mention drug gangs."

  Another forwarded report from Urfa. A digest of all the prior Oner activities on the planet. Rael skimmed the executive summary and winced. Do we behave like this on every world we explore? Exploit? The Table of Contents had a section labeled Princess Rior and staff, followed by Dancer Hoon.

  She settled down and read all about the debacle . . . "And they never found her? Or even know if she's alive or dead? One!" "Given" to a cousin, who never arrived home, presumably a victim of bandits.

  Dancer Hoon was another disaster. Assigned to keep an eye on the Princess they'd married off to the Amma. When it all crashed down, Rior's staff had all been sold as slaves. A scout team on a free world—no natives—had picked up a radio transmission. Hoon, twenty years marooned, had been collecting information the whole time, and had made contact. The scout team had tracked her signal to what looked like a dimensional gate, just sitting there, no power source, equipment, no controls. On the far side—Target Forty-two. And seven more of the "advanced gates."

  Dancer Hoon had returned to Target Forty-two, and a year later returned to the gate with boxes full of handwritten intel and two children. She, and a scout team, had arrived at the gate as the Oner army's advance units marched through. She'd never made it through the gate.

  All that lost intel. And a Dancer with two children. That wine! Rael straightened her shoulders. Not that I want kids, myself. But I wonder what happened to the kids.

  A note on the report, from Urfa. "I want to kill Agni for never passing any of this on to us. And I want to know how they made those gates. It cannot possibly be as easy as Endi made it look."

  Rael shook her head, and spoke to thin air. "Dude. Magic."

  ***

  She decided she needed to take a walk, to digest it all. And found herself on the beach. The kid was there. Working on his katas.