Empire of the One (Wine of the Gods Book 14)

by Pam Uphoff

  Urfa just out waited them. Idlo nodded grumpily

  Xiat shrugged and a faint smile showed. "We won't be anywhere as alienated as half the married couples there. I can get invitations through a friend."

  Chapter Seven

  Empty World Ten

  Winter 1394 px

  The team on the far side of the Gate had expanded a bit and the weekly reports were flying. A small village of houses with telltale witch construction had sprung up. With the sunshine electricity converters they were running a Oner computer that they'd brought through. When Este took the reports through the next week he found Captain Wacolm working his way through a tutorial.

  A gaggle of witches and wizards were hanging around to run messages, and pretending to be taking orders from Captain Blanchard.

  "They really just want to play games on the computer or watch stories on the vid screen." Wacolm snorted. "But that means they're close by when Blanchard needs them to take me a message, so everything is just fine."

  Este eyed it. "I'm surprised you're here yourself."

  "In case you had questions." He handed over an envelope. "Slight change in orders, since they seem to be planning a war. Rufi's put his head together his generals' and, well, several gods. They've identified some specific people and places of interest. You need to try to locate them. If it comes to war, you may get orders to eliminate them. Try to not give yourselves away, but you are active agents, now, not passive information collectors. Being discovered is now a lower priority. Mind you, if you get caught, don't stay caught."

  "Yeah, we'll yell for Endi or Kail t'come save us." He bit his lip. "We may be able t'cause some minor problems, forging identification and money. I don't know that we can do enough to undermine their economy, though."

  "Undermining is good. Especially if you could aim it at the politicians who are pushing that war bill."

  ***

  "It's a parody." Onni looked amused. "Only a Space Alien would take it seriously. See, they're playing off the Archetypes Theory. So you've got the Brave Leader, the Wise Mentor, the Loyal Sidekick, the Dumb Muscle, the Nice Girl, the Ice Princess . . . "

  Heil sat back. "Oh. Oh my. Do you have a collective subconscious?" No wonder they instantly recognized us for what we are.

  "Of course we do! How else would the One work?" Onni rubbed his forehead. "We know you lot are the Alien equivalent of an Info Team. You've got all the right types. Kinda mixed up, but Este's the Brave Leader—even if he is a Country Bumpkin. You're the Beautiful Princess, Deep's the Stone Cold Killer, Kail's the Little Kid Genius . . . haven't figured out Endi yet. Celebrity, Super Spy or Wild Card, hard to tell."

  Heil felt faint. They know about us. At some deep level they know we're spies . . . "Super Spy? Like in those silly 'action flicks' you guys like?"

  "Exactly. Can Endi kick ass, or does he just ride horses?"

  "Oh, he kicks ass like you would not believe." She swallowed. "And he rides horses." Heil abandoned the vid and headed downstairs.

  "Guys, I think I need your help on something."

  Kail looked up from the blank she was making. "What's up?"

  "Have you heard the theory that the collective subconscious affects the highly magically talented? Makes them into gods?"

  "New gods, you mean? Like my mom being the Dark Lady, and yours being practically the Goddess of Fertility?"

  "Right, and Endi called Ricardo the God of Assassins."

  "So?" Este looked dumber than usual, a sure sign that he was paying attention and thinking.

  "So, what does this Hive mind thing do to, or with, the very magical? I'm wondering if it can affect us, and if we can affect it." Heil wondered how to sell them on her plan.

  Deep shook her head. "I doubt it. I've eavesdropped on a bunch of Oners and they have a sense of belonging that I lack entirely. What about you?"

  "I know what they mean, on a visceral level when they speak of the One. When I'm in a group I know who's in and who's out. Who's One, which Halfers have a single power gene, and which don't have any. Who are multitude and have no connection at all. You three, even though you look fine, are basically opaque. You don't feel with me."

  Kail narrowed her eyes in thought. "More to the point, do you feel with them? Is there a point of contact, and is it a problem or a useful tool?"

  "Ah, you see it. Can I inject ideas without betraying us? Endi? In this World, he's the Enemy." Heil stared into her eyes. "I need to not tell everyone that. We need to persuade the local collective subconscious that a spy—an information collector—from a small third party can act as a go between, and bring peace to One World and Earth. Or at least that he's trying. A lot of spy stories are tragedies, after all. But we need the collective to be on his side, and pulling for him. And through this 'One' I think we can do it."

  Kail nodded. "And it's true too. The Earth is at least half the problem. If Endi can help bring this World to the negotiating table, by kicking a bit of Oner ass, I think the masses would love him."

  "Do the masses count, here?" Este asked. "What are you up to?"

  "They're over eighty percent of the population, and they're the ones that will die in a war. You better bet they count, where the collective subconscious is concerned. But perhaps not so much to the One. We're thinking of how to influence people at the lowest level." Kail frowned. "They aren't magical, though. I don't know if they'll pick it up."

  Heil looked at Este. "I think we can meditate on the theme of the third world, neutral spy who is trying to stop a war between the big powers. Meditate on how much they don't want to die because some fat Oner general wants to make a name for himself. We may be able to affect the local collective subconscious. Maybe even affect the One."

  "Eww. Hmm." Deep's eyes got a bit remote and she paced over to a window and looked out. "Stories are powerful. I could try writing a story, on that theme. This grid of theirs has publishing mechanisms. I'll check them out."

  "So, what to think about while I meditate. This is a good idea. No negative impact that I can see. The One, on the other hand . . . You be careful Heil." Este frowned at Kail, who was staring at her left arm. "What are you doing?"

  "Changing the genetics of a small patch of skin. I'm changing one of my power genes to a Oner power gene—dead easy, they're just different versions of the same gene. There. Heil, do I feel different?"

  "Yes, it's like your glow just gained a dimension or something. I can see you and feel you, now."

  Este buried his face in his hands. "Are you insane?"

  "Just a bit of polish on the disguise, Boss. I'll tell Endi about it. He's already had to remove his power genes from his mouth and hair, for his employment medical. Would you like to try this . . ."

  "No. Absolutely not."

  Deep nodded. "Me neither. The two of us can try to monitor you two, although what we'd do if you joined the One, I can't imagine."

  Chapter Eight

  Britain, European Region

  18 Emre 1396 yp

  "Bah. There’s not a chance he’ll be re-elected." The big man’s generous gesture had a server dodging, her tray of drinks teetering.

  Idlo stepped in and steadied the tray. Grabbed a glass of champagne and winked at the girl. Obviously just a Halfer, but damned pretty.

  "Just a placeholder, until the next election. Just stonewall him." Another High Oner, expensive suit, military posture.

  "That’s my natural state of being."

  Idlo turned away casually, trying desperately to not look shocked. Surely the top general in the army and the director of External Relations were not speaking of the duly elected and sworn in President of the Empire in such dismissive tones. Surely.

  Party politics is all well and good, but if they aren’t even giving Orde respect in a conversation a dozen people could overhear . . . how out of the loop can a president be kept? Thank the One we're a century past violent coups or I'd really be worried. He rubbed his arms, feeling suddenly cold in the early spring sunshine. I’m not playing
in the kiddies’ pool any more. I'm a Directorate agent, reporting to Urfa. I ought to drop my membership in the War Party and join the Modernists.

  Except . . . the War Party will probably retake the presidency in the next election. He squirmed a bit, not liking the conflict between old, new and possible future loyalties. I'll stick with the War Party. I don't want a reputation for disloyalty and cheap allegiance.

  He looked around. I should eavesdrop on some Isolationists, too.

  The British Governor’s "Country Place" was a thousand acres of beautiful landscaping. Much of it long sweeps of meadows, mind you. The guests fell neatly into four groups. War Party movers, shakers and gofers over here. Across the rose garden, the Isolationist clique. Down at the stables, a mixed group of High Oner wives were admiring the Governor’s stable of outstanding horses. His daughter had brought a few of hers up to show off.

  Her new horse was a terror. The professional rider had earned his keep today, jumping the brute. His work over, he was guzzling overpriced water from a plastic bottle and wiping the sweat from his face. And charming the women. Tall, handsome, features just rugged enough to be masculine. Regular enough to be handsome. With muscles and a swagger. A toy worthy of these high Oner women.

  He spotted Ahba and strolled up beside him.

  "They’ve been teasing him and calling him a baby magnet, but it’s the older women who are really gaga over him. It’s disgraceful." Ahba shot a resentful glance down the barn aisle where a crowd gathered.

  "Yeah, hard to believe that getting old enough and high rank enough to win a wife just like that is one of our career goals, eh?"

  "You just had to say that, didn’t you? Maybe I should set my sights on Rael, or Xiat, instead."

  "Two worse ones to throw yourself at are hard to imagine. C’mon, I’ll introduce you to an old classmate. She’s married to an Isolationist, we could meet him, chat. I’m a lot more comfortable spying on the Isolationists."

  "Yeah. Good plan. Is that Xiat, talking to Minister Okli’s wife? How’d she manage that?"

  "She’s almost sixty years old, duffus."

  "No!" Ahba looked upset.

  Idlo tried, and knew he failed to smirk at the little social climber. "That’s what a full double set of the Prophets' genes will do for a woman. It’s nearly a handicap for a man, to look so young for so long." He strolled toward the knot of younger women, not giving Ahba time to ask how old Idlo was. He really didn’t want to admit to being thirty-one. A year younger than Ahba. It’ll be a couple of decades before anyone takes either one of us seriously.

  "Gaol, is that you? Long time since high school, eh?"

  "Idlo, how nice to see you again. You remember Jaed, don’t you?"

  "Certainly, and this is Ahba Withione Black Point. I suppose you two are married by now. Good catch?"

  "One damned huge divorce settlement, on the first try." Gaol bounced on her heels, for just a moment looking like the girl he’d had such a crush on.

  Damn all these people who live practically forever. A man has to practically be in his dotage before he’s moved up enough to catch the girl of his dreams—and then she turns out to be an extra cold game player. But if Gaol’s divorced, maybe she’s a bit bored and ready to look younger, even if just for a brief fling.

  Jaed looked over her shoulder and giggled. "Looks like the old wives have settled the dispute and figured out who gets Endi. Honestly, a big handsome man like that shouldn’t be allowed to have dimples."

  Ahba shrugged irritably. "So you take turns with him? Line up?"

  Twin glares at subzero temperatures swung his way.

  Idlo sighed. "I can’t take you anywhere can I?"

  Ahba squirmed, and apologized. And tossed a look over the intervening heads to see what the laughing and cheering was all about.

  "It’s the Athlete’s Body. The fitness magazine." Gaol grinned. "They don’t quite do naked pictures, but they don’t miss by much. One of the photographers is here, and the older wives are trying to talk Endi into accepting an offer for the cover interview and photoshoot. Whoo, would that ever be hot."

  Ahba rolled his eyes and started fading back. Idlo let him go. Unfortunately the women closed ranks, shutting him out. He strolled casually toward where the rider had been, and casually picked up the plastic water bottle abandoned there. A DNA analysis might be interesting. The man couldn't possibly be the Halfer his name implied. "Endi Dewulfe" was probably a Oner, but in a menial job, not using his status and clan names. Probably not any sort of security problem, but his sudden appearance in the horse show scene, competing against the President's daughter, did raise questions. They pay me to be paranoid.

  ***

  Phoebe, Poppy, Krazy, Sue, and Cookie. Or here at a formal party, Ladies Fiob, Jowp, Kayz, Suyh and Cuec. They'd all grown up together, and been the best damned cheerleaders ever. They sounded like complete strangers, as they chatted.

  Xiat sighed. I should have figured out some other way to nab three invitations. This is awkward.

  All five of them were on their third husbands. Poppy’s Regional Analyst Uzga was the highest ranking, this round, and from her bright-eyed hopeful look, might turn out to be a long term project.

  No children, yet. Poppy was looking wistful whenever the subject floated past. The game, when played out in the reproductive arena, was pretty well out of the player’s hands. High Oner women weren’t fertile with men who had less magical potential than they themselves had.

  Or equal.

  Princesses, by their very nature were unable to conceive.

  No wonder I’m such an Ice Princess. I won’t play the game, and I can’t ever have children. Oh, adopt, sure. But for the highly magical, again it wasn’t the same. There was a zing, when one touched another person with a lot of matching genes. It would be rough to not feel that, in your own child, and Black Point Clan had very few orphans who would at least be a bit related to her.

  Leaving the others cattily dissecting their husbands, she drew Poppy away.

  "It sounds like you’re ready to drop out of the game." And good luck, to you, with no idea if you'll be able to have a baby. Really, you'd think in these modern times we'd stop being so paranoid about everyone knowing our numbers. Logically, that ought to be part of the marriage negotiations. But noooo . . . stupid Game.

  Poppy shook her head. "I can’t. Uzga’s deep in it, he’s gunning to be the next subdirector in Interior, and, and . . . " Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears. "He’s just got a princess. One of the sexy ones."

  Xiat winced. The princesses monitored all high governmental officials. A lot of them found it easiest to keep track of their principals if they were sleeping with them. A lot of the men considered the princesses a reward for high performance, and a virtual guarantee of further advancement. And as for the danger, apparently that just made the princesses all the more alluring.

  "Oh, Poppy!" Xiat ran out of words and gave her friend a hug. "Maybe he’ll get tired of her. Princesses can be real bitches. Trust me."

  "One. I hope so." Poppy flapped her hand toward the barn. "I don’t want to be like them in another ten or twenty years. So bored they’ll chase after stable boys."

  The other four women had drifted closer, and Cookie had heard that. "Ha! That’s not boredom, that’s pure lust. And hunting instincts. The boy’s good at running away."

  Xiat laughed with them, and gritted her teeth and settled down for a good gossip. What their husbands, their colleagues, and the husbands of other friends, were doing; scandals and rumors from high places. Dear One! Do I really want to be an investigator? Is this what I’d wind up doing?

  Chapter Nine

  Paris, European Region

  25 Emre 1396

  The President's Director came down for the next meeting as well. He'd specifically requested a background check on a man.

  Endi Dewulfe had proven quite interesting, even with the quick look Izzo had taken. The missing man from the ceramics shop. The target’s prior residence
was the shop's address, his ID one of the forgeries. I’ll bet he’s the brother of the young girl-monster. His picture, now projected on the wall was very like the girl. Definitely masculine, rather than the rather asexual sister. He looked to be eighteen or so, claimed to be twenty-four. Facial recognition programs found no matches. Like the rest of that group, there's nothing behind him. Must be a halfer from one of the Colonies.

  "While there's very little direct contact, he's around the President's daughter enough that we need to know about him. Quite apart from his being popular with the horse crazy teenagers, his promotion of magical training for nearly everyone, and half the War Party's wives treating him like a new toy." Director Urfa looked at the geneticist who'd been pulled out of his lab to report. "One of my agents took an opportunity to grab a saliva sample. Do you have the results, Doctor?"

  The geneticist sniffed dismissively. "Well, if we of the One keep breeding indiscriminately with the multitude, things like this are bound to happen." He flipped up a complete DNA scan. It was covered with colored stripes. "The saliva sample your agent collected shows double copies of a hundred and five ancillary engineered genes. He has no copies at all of SI2394, SI4576 or IRC1273. No One gene on the X. His mother must have been a good three quarters and managed to seduce a Withione. He has two-hundred and ten of the Prophets' genes."

  Izzo bit his lip. "What are the chances that he's a mutant, that the One gene was spontaneously dropped, and he's actually from a Oner background?"

  Urfa looked down the table at him with a frown, then looked back at the geneticist.

  "That would be possible, too. Very rare though, to lose the power gene."

  Urfa eyed Izzo. "Why did that occur to you?"

  "While investigating the ID forgeries, I made a purchase at the Knickknack store. Which is Endi Dewulfe's former address. Wiped and analyzed DNA from a vase two of those people had handled. The man there looks like a Oner, but is visibly dull, as if a head injury had damaged something. One hundred sixty-nine Clostuone. The other, could be Dewulfe’s sister, from her looks, read as having abnormal power genes and genetically is a two hundred and ten Clostuone. I haven't had cause or opportunity to test the other two, but the possibility of a small group of abnormals banding together and leaving a custodial home came to mind." But wouldn't there be documentation? Something with a good picture on it?