Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  Because you don't have a lover to protect.

  And I am sure you are not greedy enough to kill for money. Not even for a whole lot of money to raise your kids on. Not even because a couple of years down the road everyone will think all the nasty gossip was just that, and count on their fingers and see that the twins were born eight months after that public spat. Then you can say they are Ogto's children, and deflect any suspicions that the kids are "half Native."

  I know you aren't cold-blooded and calculating enough to do that.

  I know that. But you are truly scaring me.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Sunday, 27 Safar 1398

  "So it really is time for you to come clean about your lover." Ox tried to keep his tone mild. "Because of the value of the real estate, we need to know about anyone who might think to marry into a whole lot of money. Who is the father of the twins?"

  Raod stared out the window. Stubborn refusal all over the body language.

  "Sis?" The princess prodded, just a tiny bit.

  A faint sheen of almost tears brightened Raod's eyes. "Rael," her voice squeaked with barely controlled emotions, "I would like you to step out of the room. I only want to say this to the Investigator."

  Rael blinked, looked at him, then rose and stepped out, closing the door.

  Raod took a deep breath. Cleared her throat. "This is strictly off the record. You are not to write it down. I do not want Rael to ever, ever, hear this." She paced over to the door, opened it. "Go away, Rael. Further. I'll see you at home."

  "I'm off to see Mr. Zip. Investigator, you can arrest me in a couple of hours, if you are so inclined."

  Raod shut the door. Glanced at him, shied away.

  Crossed her arms stubbornly, and finally started talking. "After that argument in the restaurant, I drove up to the Chalet Bern. I got there late at night. Went out early for supplies. I locked myself in the room. Pigged out on chocolate, ate too much, cried too much. My fifth husband hated me, maybe he was right. I wasn't able to have the children I wanted so desperately . . . I had a one woman pity party. All day long and into the night. I slept with no one. I barely saw anyone. Dragged myself out of bed late. Took a look in the mirror. So I drove to Paseo de los Toraroso. Pretty much took what was left of the day. I spent the night at the Spa of the Roses, getting the works. The third day, I drove home. To my parent's house.

  "I'm sure you can check all of that. There was no lover.

  "I did all the expected things. Filed for divorce, sent a clearance company to pack my personal belongings. Checked them, and sent a list of what he'd kept that was mine. Then the call came from Paris." She swallowed. "We piled on the first plane out of here. Rael . . . I love my little sister, except when I hate her. She's academically gifted, always showed me up at school, even with ten years between us, the teachers noticed. And once she noticed boys, she could catch any of them with a wink. You're seeing Rael halfway back from almost dead. Back before the assassination she drew men like honey.

  "She looked so horrible. Pale, empty . . . the doctors needed us to make a number of medical decisions, for her.

  "Well, now we've all heard the rumors about Endi Dewulfe and his magic elixir. But then, when the doctors told us she was pregnant, we were shocked. And then they told us the metabolic drag of a pregnancy would reduce her already slim chance of recovery . . . Mom was crying, Dad trying not to. They'd been saying how much they wanted grandkids. And upset because I'd flubbed another marriage." She paced over to his window and stared into the distance. "And then I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. Embryo transplant. Maybe save Rael, and maybe, just maybe, if it worked, I'd have a baby. Two, as it happened." She finally turned back to him.

  There were tears on her cheeks, but her eyes were dry now, fierce. She planted fists on his desk and leaned across, definitely in his space. "Those are my babies. I am not giving them back. You. Will. Not. Tell. Rael."

  Ahxe leaned back feeling like he'd been sucker punched. Swallowed. "Do you know, I think that's the first honestly feminine emotion I've seen from you." Was that the craziest flimflam I've ever heard, or the flat truth? "So, what about Ogto?"

  She scowled. "I don't know. I don't care."

  "You didn't divorce him."

  "I forgot I hadn't gotten around to it. That's . . . at the reunion, he reminded me. I said I'd get right on it. Figured I'd get a nice bit out of it. If he'd noticed, he was probably already engaged to someone else. Not likely to make a fight out of it."

  Which sounds like pure and plain honesty.

  And the . . . odd origin of the babies would explain her refusal to name a father. She didn't want her sister to know. She was afraid her sister would take her babies.

  Right, Rael said something about being squeamish and not looking at her medical records herself. I could ask to look at them . . . or run a DNA test against their mother. And I will if I find any reason to disbelieve her story.

  What a mess. If that's what really happened, sooner or later the princess is going to realize whose babies those are. I really hope Madam Raod doesn't die of a heart attack. I'd have to seriously consider that she'd been murdered by her sister. Or vice versa, now that I think about it. I suspect Momma Bear would be pretty fierce in protecting her oddly acquired cubs!

  But if she didn't kill Ogto, I'm back to square one. With nothing but possible blackmail victims . . . three of them. At least. One!

  "So, who is their father?"

  "I don't know. And I am not about to ask Rael who she'd been sleeping with. I suspect I know the answer, but I don't really want it confirmed."

  Ah, yes. The princess said they looked like Endi Dewulfe. Another reason for Madam Raod's reticence. "Half Native" they'll get called. Ridiculous when anyone who watched the recordings of the assassination attempt ought to be able to see that Dewulfe was incredibly powerful, magical.

  "Thank you for telling me about the twins. That . . . at least means that you haven't got a lover who suddenly realized he could create a rich girlfriend."

  She rolled her eyes. "I'm neither penniless nor helpless."

  Ox sighed, and fetched out a sheaf of photos from his unidentified pile. Picked out two at random and added the small gray car man. "Do you know any of these men?"

  "All of them. This is Abso and . . . I think this fellow is named Ojri, I've met him a couple of times." She picked up the third picture. "Was Ruskie at the reunion? I don't remember seeing him. Uzke Withione Rioja, you know?"

  Uzke. The third signatory on the War Party accounts.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Monday, 1 Rabi 1398

  "I quit. I am not going to play by the fashion rules any more." Rael ran her hands through her hair. Ignored the lack of feedback from rather a lot of her right hand.

  "Like you ever did?"

  "If I were to scrunch up that bright yellow shirt and tie the tails, I could show off my abs, which are almost back into shape, and free of scars."

  "Sis!"

  "And then the bright blue skirt."

  "Better wear some pretty panties under it, because you know everything will show."

  "Hmm, the thong, yes. It's red."

  "Rael!"

  "All right, I was just kidding you. But maybe the faded red shorts. Because my legs are also about back in shape."

  "Dad is going to pitch a fit."

  "And . . . the serious running shoes, just in case I end up running away."

  "From Dad or whoever you're going to seduce?"

  Rael grinned. "Who knows? Maybe both." But she waited until she was at the beach, and all possibility of encountering her father was gone, before she softened up her shields and let a good solid glow show through.

  And I don't think "seduce" is a good term to use. I'm just making myself available for whoever is curious enough to avail themselves of me being alone on the beach. Maybe they'll try to kill me. Again.

  And if I can stagger all the way down to Ogto's place, I just may poke around and see
. . . well, everything the police have already seen. But word of my visit will get around.

  Yes, I'm being stupid. But I don't like the way the police keep eyeing Raod. Good grief, the investigator was practically buttering her up. She probably talked her head off to him.

  But of course, she didn't kill Ogto, so that doesn't matter.

  But it would be convenient if someone else would show up and attack me.

  The wet sand was firm under foot. She jogged a bit. Sprinted . . . not very far. Walked until her breathing was back to normal. Jogged. Walked, sprinted. Sat and watched the patterns the waves made as they crashed down and washed up at her feet. She pushed herself back up and walked until she was in the exclusive area, mansions well separated by immaculate landscaping and high walls.

  Ogto's airy mansion had been one of those, right across the Avenida Atlantica where Victor drive ended at the boardwalk.

  She tried one more sprint, then floundered through the soft dry sand and up to the boardwalk.

  Now . . . airy was not the term that came first to mind. Soggy, blackened . . . the center had collapsed. Some of the outer walls still stood, smoke streaked and forlorn.

  Opposite end of town from the dives and the drug dens . . . but how does the money flow? That much damage must have been a professional job . . . or possibly just lucky. She eyed the ebb and flow of people on the boardwalk and the beach. On the street headed for the beach. There was a familiar face . . . Who . . .

  "Bet he had the best sunrise on the strip." She leaned on the rail, trying to breathe normally. "What a pity."

  Spoken as if to thin air. Or the cute young fellow ogling her legs as he walked past.

  He ignored her and kept going.

  Dammit. She softened her shields further. More glow. Trolling for men who saw anything, either here or at the reunion. The police are not allowed to do this. Finally, I can one up them. Probably won't do a bit of good.

  Behind the ruins, three towers of apartments dominated the skyline. Actually, they had a better sunrise. And a view right down into Ogto's backyard. Bet he hated that.

  Rael bent and pulled off a shoe. Knocked the sand out of it and brushed off her sock.

  Opposite end of town from the dives and the drug dens . . . but how does the money flow? That much damage must have been a professional job . . . or possibly just lucky. She put the shoe back on and tightened the laces carefully, mindful of the lack of feedback from her foot.

  Traffic along the street had a tendency to slow as people spotted the soggy ruins of Ogto's mansion. Just normal human curiosity, as far as she could tell. She pulled off the other shoe.

  She finished the second shoe and stepped down to the road. She caught a break in the traffic and trotted across the street.

  She studied the ruins from a distance. The police car in the driveway a deterrent to a close examination. She walked up the side street, the high stone wall blocking all sight of the grounds. She surveyed the wreckage of plastic strips sagging and dangling from poles. Translucent panels, providing privacy from the new apartment towers. They were warped and blackened. The trees all sported limp leaves, damaged by the heat of the fire. The stone wall turned the corner to cover the back. This side of the wall was bordered by the parking lot for the residents of the apartment towers. The wall was high enough to block the view from ground level. Rael eyed the fingers of her right hand. Climbing it was not a really good idea. She walked on until the change in the wall from stone to concrete marked the corner of Ogto's estate and the start of his neighbor's.

  And not a single person has popped out to demand to know what I am doing. This is really irritating. She walked back out toward Victory Drive, and spotted a familiar figure striding up the sidewalk, she was on the far side of the street, walking away from the beach. What's her name, the Towel woman, the friend of Ogto's second wife. Does she live around here? What was she doing down toward the south part of the enclave when she overheard that confrontation Ogto had with Raod? Was she around Ogto regularly? Or she was there for some other reason. Rael hung back a bit, edged out to spot the woman two blocks up, crossing the intersection and angling around behind the corner building.

  "Drat." Rael hesitated, then followed, staying on this side of the street. And me without so much as a bandana to cover up the red hair, and dressed, well, a bit eccentrically. I wanted to stand out . . . and now I can't really blend in.

  She studied the people on the street as she walked uphill. There weren't very many, another hour and the lunch crowds would no doubt be out in force. She managed to stop with two women between her and the building Towel had walked behind. The light changed, and she matched paces with a tall man . . . fell behind just enough to get a good look at a perfectly ordinary loading dock at the back of the low stucco building. No trucks, four cars parked behind the stucco building. A narrow alley continued through to the next street. She could be anywhere, by now. A glance over her shoulder, no traffic coming. She crossed the street and turned back toward the ocean. She strolled slowly past the opening to the loading dock. A large rollup door was open, she could hear voices, but not make out words. Masculine. Laughing. She walked down the side of the building. Two windows, arches with brickwork around them, the glass blacked out and uninformative.

  She turned the corner and strolled along the front of the building. More uninformative windows, a small sign on the wall beside the front door.

  Cuchilla Magifacturing.

  Never heard of them. Hardly matters. Time to walk homeward . . . and see how far I get before my legs give out and I call a cab.

  One of the glass doors opened, and a man stepped out, giving the street a quick visual sweep, giving Rael a double take. "Princess Rael, isn't it?"

  Good looking man, young, strong glow, vaguely familiar.

  Rael stopped. "Do I know you? Sorry, I've been living in Paris so long, I'm out of touch."

  "Epru Withione. We weren't actually introduced at the Grand Reunion, but I was in several groups with you or your sister."

  Is he just curious, or does he also have a motive to off Ogto? Ox didn't say he was being blackmailed, but then, I don't have the whole list. At a minimum he'll know everyone else. Worth cultivating. "Ah, yes. That's why you look familiar."

  He flashed a grin. "I particularly recall a snippy comment you made, about me being the only productive person there."

  "Oh, right. Everyone else—including myself—was a government employee or a game wife. Umm, I was pretty drunk by then."

  Another grin. Mature, handsome, and trying to glow at me? Wow, maybe I haven't lost it. Either that or he's trying to find out what the One Hell I'm doing scoping out his company. What the One Hell am I doing scoping out his company?

  "What do you manufacture?"

  "Microchips for small appliances. Very plebian. Would you like a tour?" He stepped back into the shadow of the doorway.

  "Sure. I've often wished I'd gotten into micro visualization. Can't possibly be as bad as hanging around politicians and bureaucrats all the time. Is there much manufacturing locally? I always hear about the lack of job opportunities in the district, for people with serious magical abilities." She followed him inside.

  "Yes, I'm the largest of only three magifacturers in the northern half of Montevideo District. And I only employ twelve industrial magicians."

  "Yikes! No wonder everyone is reduced to politics."

  He threw his head back and laughed.

  "I'm surprised you're so close to the coast."

  "Yes, it's nice having the beach just a couple of blocks away. Once the high rises went up, the land behind them lost all pretense of an ocean view, and turned commercial and light industrial."

  "I remember when this was all farmland. Those few mansions just off the beach, then nothing but fields and orchards, for . . . well, all the way to the river, really." She strolled along with the man. "The enclave has grown. Up instead of out, apparently. I can see the draw of the apartment towers. I'll bet they have a s
pectacular view, what are they, twenty floors?"

  "Yes. I remember Ogto and his neighbors trying to block their permits. They didn't like the idea of sixty or eighty families looking down on them." He led her down a short hallway, offices on both sides.

  "Hmm, I suppose that's why Ogto has, had, all those long, slanted panels. Sort of a slatted blind, size extra huge, above half his yard."

  "Yes. The plastic lets in light but blocks the view from above and to the rear. All the people along here have them. Ugly as hell. I'd have just ignored the commoners. Or planted more trees."

  "Hmm, Paris sort of gave up on that sort of privacy centuries ago. If they ever had it."

  Epru nodded. "I suppose they started with high rises and spread out. Building on the ruins, when it got picked as the World Capital."

  Rael nodded. "All the old construction is cheap concrete, even the detached houses. Nothing like these. They slapped them up fast because Paris qualified as neutral territory. Which was really necessary for the peace to hold, but it was still closer and more convenient to anywhere in the Old Islamic Republic than China or the Union of South America. Shows who won without being too obnoxious about it."

  He snorted. "The One won. The Islamics were just the first society they took over."

  "True. An interesting way to look at it. Fourteen centuries, and their genes are still diffusing through the . . . multitude."

  He pushed through the double doors at the end of the hall, held one open for her.

  "This is my factory. And office, warehouse, and shipping department. The beauty of magically influenced manufacturing is the lack of high energy requirements. The magic is like a catalyst, that reduces the power requirements and three quarters of the steps involved in the previous, non-magical manufacturing process."

  It was hot inside. Large tubs of chemical solutions, hot and steaming. The sharp smell of vinegar . . . no not quite, but close. The subdued roar of ventilation fans filled the cavernous room. A middle aged woman sat beside the nearest tub. White overalls, disposable hair and foot coverings. As far as Rael could tell, she was reading a book.