Rael (Wine of the Gods Book 27)

by Pam Uphoff

  Ox is showing him the probable path of the . . . delivery. Heh. I think this pair of cops is going to get on rather well.

  Rael went the other way and found Raod worrying over the children. "So, Sis, you need your car back?"

  "Oh, no. I was going to sell it, but Dad said to wait until after the wedding, so you or whoever could drive it. I thought about just giving it to Ebsa—Ogto's son, you know—but he can't afford the fuel, let alone insurance. So I'll sell it and give him the money. I let him drive it once . . . I may be saving his life by selling it. Any lessons he took must have involved Doodlebugs."

  Rael snickered. "Those sand dune things? With the roll cage, that they deliberately roll? Yikes." Good to see Raod's keeping an eye on him.

  Chapter Seven

  Wednesday, 15 Emre 1402 yp

  "Senior Investigator Uqpy. Do come in." Rael stepped back and waved Puppy into her parent's living room. Blessedly empty and quiet.

  He huffed and scowled at her. "Unfortunately, you seem to be the best conduit around into the princess network."

  "Uh oh, this sounds like trouble."

  "So how the bloody hell do I track down how many Princesses were in town for the wedding?"

  "Poor Puppy. Consider the plight of cops in Paris, where half the people at the Senior Level have an assigned Princess, and everyone above that has one. Oooo! I'm going to have to ask Izzo if he's acquired one yet. Poor man's going to be horrified."

  Puppy's scowl deepened.

  "Right. The governor's princess was at the party. With the governor. I saw Ahvi come in, and didn't see Loik, then, but she might have been around. Ask Ox."

  "Yes, she was there. He said she looked around, sniffed superciliously about the lower classes and left."

  "Tsk. Paris snobbery. I don't recall anyone else there who was high ranked enough to have an assigned princess."

  "That's the impression I got from your mother's guest list."

  Deeper scowl. "I need to find out if—or rather how many doses—Loik and Hayt had."

  Rael bit her lip. "I can ask the Princess School about how much they know they gave those two, but that's not to say there might have been swaps and trades and, umm . . . "

  "Theft? In the Princess School? How shocking." He sounded droll, rather than shocked.

  "However . . . they are both old enough that there may have been formulae changes. I'll check on that as well." Rael eyed him. "Do you want me to talk to them?"

  "Yes. Both to the school and to the princesses." He eyed her uncertainly. "And then there's the possibility that the One ordered Ahvi killed."

  "I . . . may have a way to find that out." Rael ran through the very short list of her old trainers who were separate enough from the hive mind that they might talk to her. "Don't expect much."

  "Right. Well, then I'll just . . . "

  "No. Wait just a minute. I'll start with an official check." Rael pulled out her comm and called her contact number. At least they've instituted a few safeguards. Must infuriate them that people need to double check orders from a Priest of the One.

  The voice was pleasant and high pitched. Subtly not feminine. "Dancer Rael."

  "Has the One issued termination orders for presidential candidate, former councilman, Ahvi Withione Blackpoint? I need to know whether to protect him or to step aside."

  Poor Puppy gawped. She tipped the receiver so he could hear the reply.

  "No. The One takes no action against any presidential aspirants at this time." Click.

  "Damn bad phone manners." Rael looked over at Puppy. "Now, do you understand that with the multiple philosophers, some priests, indistinguishable from all the rest, could act against the will of the majority philosopher, and order Ahvi's termination? If Loik didn't check back—and the check back orders are new—she might believe she has been ordered to kill him."

  Puppy eyed her. "New since a priest ordered a Dancer to kidnap Agni?"

  Rael giggled. "All those tall tales! Are they really more credible than a five day bender in Rio during Marti Gras?" She grinned at his expression. "Now let me see if I can get into the automated system in the school and check for poisons."

  The system was recalcitrant. She called an old instructor.

  "B456CD? They stopped teaching it five years ago, and stopped issuing it . . . let me check . . . three years ago, and in fact hadn't actually issued any in a decade, because how can one brag about something so old there's a standard test for it?"

  Rael giggled. "Is it possible to check on distributions before that? I've got two old princesses under suspicion of attempted murder."

  "Umm, give me their names."

  A pause. Puppy crossed his arms and muttered something about "murder incorporated."

  "Ah, here we go. They were issued one dose each, the usual, while they were in school. Hayt has never darkened our doors again. Loik came back and swapped expired material—including B456CD—for fresh in 1391. She's marked as having turned in the old stuff."

  "Oh good. I hate it when Princesses are just assumed to be guilty merely because they were briefly in the same room with someone."

  "Well, you should know about that, right?"

  "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about. Umm, were there any formula changes . . . " She broke off at a snort. "Oh, right, the numbers would have changed."

  Rael clicked off and looked at Puppy. "So we just need to see if Princess Hayt has an old expired dose, and then we can wonder if Loik kept the old one, perhaps with a bit of sleight of hand or something."

  Rael pulled up some old files, dug deep and pulled up two pictures. B456CD ampoules, brittle plastic in a paper frame. Sealed, front and back, and snapped to release poison, or antidote.

  "The paper color changes from tan to green after it's snapped. The green color develops slowly, so it's not immediately visible. And is hard to spot if dropped in grass. If you're searching the place . . . " she printed the pictures.

  Puppy looked at the sheets. Shook his head. "Never thought knowing an assassin would be useful."

  Rael snorted. "Just as well you don't know one, then. Shall I check with Hayt?"

  Itsu had been the Governor of Uruguay for fifteen years, and was well settled into the official Governor's Mansion. The historic building had been kept well maintained, the pre-war historical mansion kept strictly to period in the public areas. Behind the scenes, a very modern kitchen and a skeleton staff, frequently augmented for official dinners, with the Governor's actual living quarters beyond that.

  Hayt waved casually to the chefs as she breezed through the huge kitchen. "It's inconvenient as the One's Hell, which means we're thankfully private. All Itsu's wives hated it—well, he's only had two since he was elected. He gave up, such incredibly unpleasant women. I told him he ought to have kept Raod, but no, he had been all insulted by what he called her barrenness. After the fifth shrew he just quit trying. Well, if I hadn't been diagnosed with cancer, I daresay he would have kept trying. But he got hideously angsty and unbearably solicitous, generally alternating, but occasionally both at once."

  The private quarters were casual and warm, perhaps even a bit small. They felt like someone's home. Yells from down the hall.

  "Oh dear." Hayt hustled toward the noise.

  Midget pandemonium reigned in a big bedroom. Three children running laps around a bewildered woman and shrieking. They spotted Hayt and instantly diverted their attention to her.

  Rael stood well back, and the other woman scuttled for the door.

  "Are you the new nanny?" She sounded hopeful.

  "Not in a million years. The old one quit?"

  "Yep. In tears. At high volume." The young woman rolled her eyes. "I'm the maid. I don't do children."

  "Hear, hear! Me neither. Looks like they need a nanny plus some day help or something." Rael eyed the trio, their combined chatter unintelligible.

  "Oh, they aren't always like this. It's just, the gardeners sprayed the lawn so they can't go out and play." />
  "Ah. I see." Rael eyed the little menaces. "I suppose running them up and down that fancy marble staircase out there is not a good idea."

  The maid snorted and slipped away.

  Hayt must have caught that too. She was laughing as she herded bouncing two year olds out of the room. "Poor Helga. She's a neat freak. But I do like the idea of some extra day help. If we had room, I'd get them each a nanny. Good lord, children should only happen to young women. But Helga ran them enough that they should nap after their snack. Then we can talk. Because all the muckraking news is . . . interesting."

  Rael trailed the horde to a small kitchen where snacks were procured and the toddlers made a beeline for the nice comfortable living room, sitting on the floor in front of the vid screen.

  "Yes, I'm a bad mother." Hayt tapped the controls and motioned Rael away. The sound level dimmed suddenly as Hayt swept a privacy spell around them. "So, are you helping the police find out who tried to kill Ahvi?"

  "Yep. For some reason, you frighten the poor boys."

  They swapped grins.

  Rael cleared her throat. "Actually all I need to see is your brag box."

  Hayt blinked. Frowned. "I . . . think it's in the safe. I haven't actually . . . good heavens it must be ten years since I had to dig it out for this totally snotty Governor's convention. Must keep up the killer appearance, you know. Once was enough. I made him go alone—or take his wife when he had one—after that." She stepped through a door and flagged down Helga. "I'll just be a minute dear."

  The little room she led Rael to was scarcely larger than a closet, everything organized and at hand. The safe was small, perhaps twenty centimeters to a side, set in the wall. It opened to the princess's finger print. She pulled out a box that fit perfectly, set it aside, and delved deeper.

  Produced a tiny brass case, the top of the lid embroidered in bright colors. She popped it open and set it on the desk. She had an impressive number of tiny cards, standing up in two rows, a deadly card file.

  "Yipes! Did you qualify for everything?"

  "I tried, but I ran out of time. Silly, looking back."

  "Yeah. I've never used any of mine, either." All three of them. "Oooo! You've even got the non-lethals. Methalformaline. Did you want to be a cop?"

  "And arrest people who needed their magic suppressed? No . . . The training was quick and available, and I was in a competition with a group of buddies and rivals to see who could get the most cards."

  Rael snickered. "I'd forgotten about that! Collecting and displaying them like scout badges. I was better at the physical violence, so I never got into the brag box contests."

  The B456CD was easy to spot. A square of stiff paper with one edge bright blue with yellow stripes. Two tiny vials, side by side. Poison and antidote. The whole card was only about a centimeter square. Perforations so the poison's section could be removed, leaving only a skin-colored bit that could be easily concealed in one's hand. So easily snapped as it passed over food or drink.

  Rael flipped it over and read the date on the colored strip at the top. "Expired thirty years ago. Guess I can tell poor Puppy that the Governor didn't snag your nasty stuff to snuff an old rival."

  "Puppy? Surely you don't mean Senior Investigator Uqpy." Hayt started snickering. "Oh dear, you should not have told me that. I shall have a hard time keeping a straight face."

  "Do you see him often?"

  Hayt rolled her eyes. "I don't believe I've ever spoken to the man, but he's one of those aggressively ambitious types and manages to get into a lot of meetings with the Governor and always has a question, so people will notice him. I do believe I'll mention his nickname to Itsu."

  Rael grinned. "And Puppy will, quite rightly, blame me."

  Hayt walked her out to the car. "Be careful, Rael. These game plays can get out of hand fast. I've never seen one start with an attempted murder."

  "Yeah. I wonder if this is the start, or the finish?" Rael slid into the car. And what someone might do next. What is there to be gained, at this point? All that has been achieved so far is publicity for Ahvi. If there's a political motive, it's backfired. If there's a personal motive, the would-be killer must know the risk of getting caught has skyrocketed.

  She sent a data packet off to Puppy, then turned off into the hospital parking lot.

  Chapter Eight

  Wednesday, 15 Emre 1402 yp

  Rael found Kael's room full of solicitous people.

  Her biomother was dressed, and surrounded by Mead and children. "I'm just waiting for the last bits of documentation to get updated, then I can get out of here." The old woman's eyes crinkled, and she looked remarkably mellow. "Or is Mead going to have to arm wrestle you to see who gets to try and make me behave?"

  "Not at all." Rael eyed the two women. So do I need to wonder if Mead poisoned her or if she poisoned herself in a play to get sympathy, get her lover back? "How are you feeling? I . . . thought all of you might like to see Raod's new house while you're in town, but there's no rush."

  "Oh, yes, but not for a few days. The doctors say I'm still anemic, and should take it easy. Perhaps after the wedding, I'll be up to climbing stairs." Kael frowned down at the fading "bruises" on her arms.

  "Good plan, we can ship the happy couple off to . . . wherever they decided to go. And tour the house without fear of saying the wrong thing." Rael grinned at Kael's snort. "So, do you all need a ride? I've got a car . . . "

  She followed them into Kael's suite, adjoining Mead's, the locking doors open between them. Watched Mead tucking Kael up on the couch.

  "I . . . shouldn't have left you."

  Kael winced and looked away. "No, you were right. I . . . this year has been illuminating. Shopping, cooking, cleaning, paperwork, bills, errands. Stupid time consuming, irritating . . . I never valued everything you did. I never noticed. I think I needed the time to realize that. And I probably need more, to really make it sink in. I don't know how you did it, with work, children, and me, taking you for granted. I . . . really am glad your job is going well. Your career. I . . . will visit often."

  Mead wiped away a tear. "You'd better!"

  Rael sighed. This is her family. And maybe she really is more suited to play the less hands-on "father's" part, than deal with a fussy baby and diapers. And she was almost fifty when I was born.

  She looked at them, Deim bringing food, Imde setting up a little table . . . Somehow I can't see Mead poisoning her, nor her children . . . umm . . . practically my stepbrother and stepsister? Well . . . I'd best go figure out who did poison her, so I have time to get to know all these people. Not to mention the other side of my unknown family.

  Chapter Nine

  Wednesday, 15 Emre 1402 yp

  "Dare I ask who your biofather is?"

  ". . . meetings where she reported on Comet Fall."

  Rael hadn't been able to keep those snatches of conversation out of her head. Because the reason I never tried to meet this Egto Neartuone Alcairo was because a neartuone couldn't possibly have gotten Kael Withione pregnant. I figured he was just a . . . mildly embarrassing, but not actually scandalous name to put on the birth certificate.

  But if she got pregnant on Comet Fall, home of the most powerful fertility aid in the multiverse, anything is possible.

  So not only do I have a biomother I barely know, I have a biofather I've never laid eyes on. So far as I know.

  And looking at all the old family pictures isn't helping a bit. Other than helping me avoid a shakeup in my self-knowledge.

  Rael looked at the holos. "That's Grandmother Real, right? And Granddad, of course." The old man had lived a long life, and been around quite a lot of her teenage years. Mom's father, not Kael's . . . "Do you know, I don't even know the name of Kael's father."

  "Mother wouldn't talk about it. 'A very powerful man, the name hardly matters' is all she'd ever say. She was pregnant when she left the Princess School." Mom shot her daughter a glower. "Princess School! Really Rael . . . well. I suppose it's w
orked out for you. And Raod! The scandal! I really thought one of her husbands must have a higher number, but . . . And I love my grandchildren, but . . . I hope the next one will be able to name his father!" Kyol sighed. "Apparently insanity can skip a generation."

  Ooo! No one ever told Mom that Raod encountered the infamous Endi Dewulfe? Damn that oversexed man's campaign to seduce half the High Oner women in Paris. Rael poked a hologram at random, to deflect her thoughts. "This is someone on Dad's side, right?"

  And later, upstairs, alone, she glowered at her comp.

  Humph, I've got all the father I need. She winced to think that was what the twins would think of Xen. They'll never meet him . . . and . . . Raod may never tell them. I . . . shouldn't mention him to them either. Or talk about them to him.

  She shut down that line of thought.

  But right now, I'm going to research myself.

  Egto Neartuone Alcairo. A name on a birth certificate.

  As a member of the Presidential Directorate, her permissions level got her right into the central records. She hunted down the long form of her birth certificate. Still blank where Kael's father's name should be. So, on to Kael's birth certificate.

  And there, Kael's father was listed as "One of Makkah." What? A priest? Are some of them not eunuchs? I sure didn't notice any in all my training. Maybe some of the really old ones? Or regeneration? Xen takes it for granted, but it's never had much success, here. Or did my grandmother seduce a priest candidate before . . . Oh, that thought is icky. Rael snorted. Although I can see that that would be one way to maintain a supply of priests. Deliberate breeding of failed princesses? Those were the rumors we told each other, generally right before finals, when we were jittery and wondering what we'd do when we flunked out.

  But really, I doubt the One would go that far, however much it sounds like genetic suicide to emasculate the strongest third of all the men with the priest gene.

  But even so, there'd be at least a name if not a clan, wouldn't there?