by Pam Uphoff
Rior gathered power and slid deeply into the woman's mind. "Twins. She had twin boys. Fine healthy babes."
The woman blinked a bit uncertainly.
"You delivered two baby bays."
The woman nodded.
"Now, go."
She climbed down after the old woman, and found Auchel waiting. He handed the woman a small purse of money, and watched her walk away before he looked back at Rior.
"There are birds that lay their eggs in other nests." He looked a bit amused, and a bit approving.
"Yes, and I shall do the same." Rior straightened. Reached back into the wagon and fumbled with the baby. Carried it clumsily up to the front door, reaching out mentally.
A man opened the door. A woman friend with a gift for the baby . . . babies . . . the mistress has had twin boys . . . Another woman led her back to the mistress's chamber . . . twins, both boys. A man in rich clothing, beaming at a baby in a cradle.
Finally, a son! His thoughts were clear.
Rior added to his memories, so recent . . . so easy. Two sons! Twins!
Rior handed the baby over to a maid who tsked and took it to a side table.
Then she circulated, spreading false memories. She glanced back into the bedroom.
A beaming woman with two babies.
One whimpering bundle glowed with unmistakable power.
Damn Native.
Rior turned and walked out. Auchel boosted her back into the wagon. "Let's find a place to stay, then go kill some people."
Chapter Four
Fascia, Capital of Auralia
Winter Solstice 1366
Auchel's revenge came first.
With her spells of inattention, it was simple to walk into a house and slit a throat.
Simple to walk into the holding pens of the auction yard and interrupt their butcher at work castrating men and boys without anesthesia or antibiotics. It was a bit more difficult to keep everything quiet while Auchel used his instruments on him.
Then slit his belly and left him to wallow in his own intestines.
Rior opened the cages as they departed. They'll probably get the blame. Poor sods, better them than us.
"Let's try that restaurant by the Palace, tonight. And then I need to pick up gossip about the Oner's. Find out what they are doing." Rior was humming happily as they stopped at a public horse trough to wash the blood from their arms and hands.
Auchel looked tired. Old. He cannot ever return to what he once was.
"You have the option of returning to them, but only if you give up your revenge."
Rior nodded.
The gossip was delicious.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew about the Ambassador from that "Empire of the One" place who had been castrated and raped. In public. Released to crawl through the streets, kicked and beaten by the crowds. He'd survived the trip to the Embassy, and never been seen again.
The officer who had been training the Native troops had been chopped down, killed without a trial.
He was innocent. That maid switched to an illusion of the commander, and left him holding the bag. Rior shrugged. It's done. It wasn't my fault. My revenge happened months ago, all unknown to me. Just as well. I can go home now, with a clear conscience.
She rode to the Embassy. She reined her horse to a halt and stared at the gates of the compound. All she had to do was ride through that gate. They'd hustle her straight through the dimensional gate and home. Home to the Directorate that had allowed her to be sent away, failed to retrieve her, and might not have even tried. To the Government that had used her body as treaty fodder. To the One that had trained her to be sexually irresistible. Home to the Empire, which could use her again, discard her again, at their will.
She turned her horse away.
Auchel and I will make a fine pair of bandits.
Strange Gods
During the last part of Dark Lady, Rustle is summoned to the Tavern, to view the bodies of two men who have been killed by witches. By their clothing, Rustle is able to identify their world of origin. Strange Gods and Spiders are the details of that deadly encounter, and the aftermath, from some very different points of view.
Chapter One
May 12, 3494 (1377 post exile)
Initiate Stanley Sutter wished the Conclave hadn't chosen to send the God of Death.
It didn't actually matter which god was brought along on this scouting mission. For all the pomp and pretense given them, the minor gods were, after all, just mobile power accumulators. And the major gods were under the control of their Priest.
But still . . .
Head Priest Andrew Menke didn't like it either. He'd raved about how he was too important to be sent off like this, shutting up only when the Supreme Head had suggested that he stay home and send a Senior Priest with the God. Heh. Even an Initiate knew a Head Priest wasn't going to risk his position by letting a Senior spend so much time linked to his God.
So here they were. One priest with his god on a psychic leash. Two senior priests, four priests, eight initiates, twelve little gods and a hundred soldiers from the First Imperial Company. All staring at a glowing white circle perched on a hillside.
They'd been searching for over a month, based mainly on tall tales overheard in the nearest town.
Senior Priest Craig Hagood walked around with the hat held high. Stanley reached in and grabbed a stone. Denny and Keith and the other five selected, and then the eight initiates held out their hands and opened them. White and black stones. Stanley's was black.
"Sutter, go jump through that . . . thing. If at all possible, come back."
Stanley gulped and shakily turned, walked up the hill. What was that thing? It didn't matter. It couldn't possibly kill him more painfully than being fed to the God for disobedience. One of the little gods snickered as he walked by, one of the small ones, his eyes mocking. The dwarf licked his lips hungrily. Oh yes, the little gods enjoyed seeing Priests die.
Baron Roger, the Arrivalian traitor, was grinning. No doubt he'd love seeing anyone die. Stanley rather wondered if the senior priests weren't leaning too hard on the Baron's mind. He was getting unsettlingly unbalanced. If he were any more magic, we could turn him into a God. As it is, he'll make a good puppet, and breeding material.
The dwarf snickered again. "Coward . . ." Less than a whisper, barely a breath.
Stanley stiffened his shoulders and strode forward and jumped. Tripped and sprawled on the ground. He picked himself up hastily, braced for the laughter from the little gods . . . He glanced back, startled at the silence, and there was the glowing circle.
He swung around and surveyed the area. Rolling grassy hills, a wide road running straight and level through them. Across the road a deep brush-choked gully jagged around, but in general ran parallel to the road. A thin forest covered the hills on the far side, with higher hills rising behind, dark with a thicker forest. To his right, perhaps half a mile away, a building with a steep roof like they built in the far south, to shed snow. Nothing else, and no people in sight. He strode back to the glowing circle and stepped through.