Wine of the Gods 26: Embassy

by Pam Uphoff

  "Wow." Paer was wide-eyed with an expression somewhere between shocked and amused. "So . . . how many children do you have?"

  "Nine that I know of . . . at home." Xen looked across the table at Urfa.

  "Twenty-five—that we know of."

  Paer slapped a hand across her mouth to muffled a laugh. "Thirty-four children!"

  The president cleared his throat. "So. Tell us all about these old North American horse breeds."

  "Quarter Horses—highly maneuverable sprinters—American Saddlebreds and Tennessee Walkers—smooth riding horses, some with odd gaits, Morgans, a smallish all purpose critter, and no doubt some others that we've lost track of. A few of the Exiles brought draft horses with them. The third group of foundation horses were experimental animals the Gods stole from the labs before they escaped. Five of them are, well, about like Crystal, tall, long legged, moderately muscled and very athletic. Three were heavier, not really draft types—no feathering on the legs—but all the muscles."

  Orde glanced at his daughter. "But can they jump?"

  "Oh yes. And levitate and teleport. They were where the Earth's genetic engineers tested their inventions first, before they used them on the human-like experimental animals."

  Skeptical looks from around the table.

  Paer broke the silence. "Ooo! But that was all way back when . . . you guys don't actually do any genetic engineering, right? No modern genetics, and labs and things, right?"

  "Umm, magical genetics, more like." Xen flashed a grin. "We're kind of a weirdly mixed society, with enclaves that have kept up the sciences. Our educational system is roughly following the pre-exile system, that yours also echoes. I have, from the King's University in Karista, a Bachelor's degree in Biology, a Masters in Genetics and from the University of Ash, a doctorate in Genetic Engineering. Well, also a Bachelors in Modern Warfare . . . which you wouldn't think was very modern. Plus I'm a Medgician, and a Master Wizard."

  "Whoa."

  Grin. "Sounds more impressive than it ought, those last two and the genetic engineering are all hands-on training that I started early in life, the academic stuff I was dragged kicking and screaming into and just finally finished."

  Izzo eyed him. "We had a horrible time pinning your genetics down, when you were here. Surely you weren't changing your own genes."

  "Oh yes I was. Especially after those women started catching me." Xen caught a dismayed look from the President, and veered back to genetics. "We don't actually do very much engineering, but we keep the knowledge base, for when we do need it.

  "But the horses . . . The experimental horses are smart. They've got a bunch of the artificial genes the Telies had, and possibly some new one that they hadn't used in people yet."

  The President leaned forward. "They are smart?"

  "Yes. We've lost track of some of them, but as far as we know, none have died. They've got the artificial longevity genes. Pyrite is one of the original test horses. God horses, we call them. They're fully interbreedable with normal horses. The horses that are around three-fourths god horse are telepathic. But only three of them can teleport, that I know of."

  He flashed a grin. "If you've read that silly collection of stories of Rufi's . . . Ah. I see by the grins you have. It is not accurate. But Pyrite and I are the inspiration for the Boy with the Talking Horse stories."

  Paer grinned. "You were turning bandits into purple bunnies when you were ten years old?"

  "Certainly not." He put on a dignified expression. "I was nearly twelve."

  Fortunately no one in hearing range believed a bit of it.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Winter Solstice 1399

  Seaside

  Rior looked around at their new home with smug satisfaction. There were dimensional gates up on the hillside behind the house, four of them at the moment. In front of the house the ground fell away and they had a sweeping view down to the beach and up the coast. They were the only people on the whole World. They could buy and sell between the four Worlds and show ridiculous profits. Buy toys and tools in one, trade them for gold in another, buy electronics for themselves in the third. And if they stole the first merchandise, all the more profit.

  I knew witches could manipulate stone. I knew how powerful the older witches were. But those "Triads" . . . They magnified the powers of the individuals the same way a Compass of eight men magnifies their power.

  I wonder if three Princesses . . . well, it's a bit late for me to experiment with that, isn't it now?

  And I suspect the Oner talents would not run to building a near palace, as a teaching exercise for the younger triads. Four floors, forty bedrooms, and they insisted on the outdoor privy. And I really want to learn how to do that magical hot water system.

  Rior paced over to the back windows and eyed the location of the second gate, not actually visible from here because of all the trees in between. They'd been frantic, and opened it immediately. He thought they should close it now, but the others seemed to need the connection to their old home world. It had connected out in the dry lands five hundred miles from Karista, but only ten miles from a small town with a corridor.

  The witches had fetched their missing friends, and all the babies. And servants, so at least they had a good cook.

  So now Rior had just three problems. Keep peace in the group—some of the men had a bad tendency to think of the women as possessions—and some of the women viewed the men as slaves. Secondly, he needed to learn more of the alien magic. And his third problem, decide whether to conquer one of those Worlds, or just keep stealing and trading.

  His imagined gang of eighteen magic users had grown to include four trained assassin-courtesans and four non-magical nobles from a medieval culture. With the removal of a wicked constraint-of-magic spell, the wizards had regained their magical abilities. They were strong and well trained. He was going to have to watch them carefully.

  At the moment, the house was pretty much a hotel. The trained wizards had known how to build, specializing in wood, rather than stone, so they had paneling and hardwood floors to soften the stonework, and furniture.

  The women without power had taken on the kitchen, laundry and childcare chores. The powerless men were all good riders and hunters, so they had plenty of meat.

  Rior hated to admit it, but he was barely useful. Right now he was working with the untrained magic users. The freed wizards were helping. Eldon and Hesso where double powered—they had the Mage gene on their Y chromosome in addition to the wizard power gene on their X chromosome.

  Which is why they feel a bit like priests, but without any connection to the One.

  The other two were strictly wizards and were certain their magic worked differently than the mages, although Eldon had frowned a couple of times as they tried to explain. The "mage" magic felt the most familiar to Rior, even in the raw "picture it and shove power into it" methods they'd figured out themselves. It was very powerful, and dangerous flailing. And not open to criticism, nor amenable to education. Half of them were illiterate. But they did copy Eldon and Heso, when they started working wood.

  Eldon doesn't want to lead. Odd, because he's got everyone's trust. But I don't have to worry about him. Heso, on the other hand, has the desire to lead, but no skill at it. So as long as I can keep the loyalty of the mages—which mostly means keeping Jade from wrapping them up and putting them on a shelf until she needs them again—I'll be in good shape to keep control of the group.

  I'll start by being more open when I work magic. Let them see how I do things, without seeming to be critical, and they'll keep looking to me. Maybe.

  Prince Mirk, for all his lack of magical power, was a charismatic and persuasive man. Two others—Fidel and Thomu Iron—had that same charm, but acknowledged the Prince's supremacy. There must be some sort of power there, for that charismatic effect. But they can't collect power or put it to use. Bitter old Lord Rivolte was interested only in hunting and screwing. The four of them had gone through the servants,
the powerless women and even charmed some witches. Mirk himself, seemed to have set out to charm Jade. The wizards knew some contraceptive spells, and Rior learned them and urged the men to use them. They had quite enough babies already.

  The witches . . . Jade and Teri were well trained. Amoral and deadly. The other, older witches had Veronian accents and like half the men, poor training. The younger witches . . . One he hated those speed bubbles. The younger witches were naïve and inexperienced, but Jade and Teri had made an effort to train them. Arrow, Epee, Falchion, and Gauntlet.

  Falchion. The only one of them who could make a gate. She had recovered quickly from her burns, and the rest of her gates had been stable and solid—if she wanted them to be. He was catering to her every desire, right now, and trying to keep her focused on him.

  Movement below caught his eye. The horses.

  The Prison World had been devoid of large animal life, except for what had been introduced between the opening of the gate and the decision to use it as a prison. Thomu and the wizards had apparently had an ongoing project to make up to the horses that had been released there. Tame and trained for the most part, apparently sugar cubes, cookies and salt had been all that was needed. They had insisted on keeping the horses, and here, finally, they were useful. And they could be useful on the far side of some of these gates as well.

  You'd think with a dozen horses there'd be a reasonable gender balance, but apparently they were all female. Apparently some foals had gone astray while they traveled the gates, and the three born since had all been female too. Lord Thomu was a bit miffed over it all, and wanted to go back to get a stallion.

  Right now two of the women were catching mounts, probably to go ride on the beach. He hated to admit it, but this group just wasn't up to conquering Worlds. He'd just have to settle for robbing them blind and living in luxury.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Early Winter 1399

  Embassy

  I am an ambassador. They dare not kill me.

  Hadley Greene forced himself to walk calmly and steadily across the plaza. Why must they make everything so large? So far away? We should acquire one of those vehicles. One of those limos. A large black one, worthy of my status. Or white for my purity.

  They had always said the power had been too weak in him—they had not allowed him to go on to the more advanced training of the priesthood. Thirty years later, the rejection still burned. Especially now, in his maturity, when he understood that his only lack had been money for bribes or political influence on his maternal family's side.

  And now, so poorly trained, I must walk alone into that vipers' nest of feral Gods. I dare not even bring an aide, who could be influenced, ordered to murder me in my sleep some night in the future.

  It wasn't the sun overhead that was making him sweat.

  He didn't allow himself to stop at the road, nor the base of the steps. By the time he reached the top, the double doors were open, and two men . . . no. Two gods. Unchained, uncontrolled, unmastered . . .

  I could take one, for my own. The priests would bow before me. Weak? Ha!

  He eyed the two gods. The young one. I want him. He swallowed saliva. But not now. No, I'll have to find him alone, off his guard. Asleep would be best.

  He stopped a cautious distance away, stood straight and tall, and raised his chin. "I am Priest Hadley Greene, Ambassador for Arbolia. I require your assistance for a scientific expedition."

  The young one nodded. "I'm sure that we will be delighted to assist you. May I introduce Dr. Quail Quicksilver? She is in charge of Science and Exploration." He stepped back and gestured invitingly as a young woman stepped forward.

  Abomination! A female with power! But that glow is unmistakable. Except, there is no sexual attraction. Of course, abnormal genes. That would explain it. It's not a True Female. I could take it, transform it into the God of Women. No. The God of Sex.

  He was so deep into plots that he nearly forgot to be afraid as he stepped into the den of the deadly wild gods.

  ***

  ". . . proper scientific study of these dimensions. So we expect your cooperation." The Arbolian ambassador was watching her with a hungry expression. Sweating.

  Q kept her expression politely neutral.

  Lust or terror? How can one tell with a hideous perv like this?

  And why did the first request for scientific project have to come from them?

  The man is a mage of some sort, possibly one of their priests.

  I should get a genetic sample for Mother. She talked about these people . . . I thought she was exaggerating.

  "I appreciate your interest in science, Ambassador. This looks like a very interesting project. We will support it, and assist as necessary. Have your project people contact me about what they will need." She stood and extended a hand.

  He recoiled . . . stared at her hungrily. "They will contact you." He turned and walked out.

  Crap.

  She glanced suddenly at the corner of the office. A light warp unraveled.

  "So, your first scientific expedition from another polity—and it had to be them." Xen grinned.

  She shook her head. "Being over protective, Big Bro?"

  "Yeah. I didn't like the way he salivated when he looked at me and Inso." He walked to the doorway and grinned back at her. "But he did seem to find you sexy."

  He ducked away from a threatened fireball, and she grabbed a tissue and swabbed the edge of her desk. Maybe Mother can sort out his DNA. She dropped the tissue in a bag and sealed it. I do like plastic. It's going to be a bigger import category than electronics.

  ***

  "We need to do a first survey from several wildly different worlds, and analyze the results." Lord Marius Menchuro of Arbolia was an astronomer. A serious young man, with none of the ambassador's hunger. He'd shaken her hand without hesitation, as had his assistants.

  Trace and Trill Breesdon were brother and sister. Trill was a photographic expert, Trace an expert at keeping everything working.

  "Everything" being a twenty-four inch reflecting telescope mounted on a horse drawn wagon, and a huge camera for taking long exposure photographs, and the photographic lab, in addition to a great deal of camping equipment.

  Damn. Now this is interesting. Studying the planets, moons and asteroids for changes from world to world.

  "Indeed. Let me introduce you to the maze. I think we have everything—every place—you'll need for this first survey already easily available."

  ***

  "And an interesting trio the Arbolians are. One of the men is a wizard, the other a mage, both with enough training to shield their natures from me, if they hadn't gone and shaken hands. The girl has no power genes but a fair collection of the rest. They all seem very smart, and very much what they claim to be, otherwise. One astronomer, one photographic specialist, one guy to keep everything working. In any case, they're parked up on that hill, with a corridor up to a mountain top. As far as I can tell, they are busy all night and sleeping all day."

  Inso smirked. "I'm just dying to see what the pair of you are going to do about the God of the Sun."

  "They got him from the gate into the Embassy without our knowing about it, so they're home free. We really cannot go blasting into embassies, no matter how much the inhabitants deserve us." Xen pulled his notes closer and squinted at his handwriting.

  "You really ought to use a comp." Julianne flourished her own slim state-of-the-art-on-Earth notepad.

  "It would be easier to learn how to type than how to write legibly, at your age." Q had a full scale machine with all the goodies in front of her. To the dismay of both parties, the Oner machine was augmented with several Earth peripherals and custom made interfaces.

  "I know how to type. I've spent as much time on One as you have, Q."

  "No you haven't, I've gone back several times. Plus you squandered your time riding horses and running from bored Withione wives. I was working. Well, committing multiple major felonies, techn
ically, but that's just a matter of perspective."

  Inso shot her a dark look, then looked back to Xen. "Running from? I hear you caught them."

  "I let them catch me. I would never have thought of such appallingly immoral tactics, if only I hadn't been dodging married women for months." That drew snickers all around. "Now, back to business. The One Embassy is nearly done, Earth's is six months from completion, Arbolia a couple of months out, and the Purple people have chosen a spot halfway to the beach."

  "We were all impressed by the Comet Fall Embassy." Lon said. "The energy requirements for that rock molding trick must be enormous. You're going to have quite a crowd, when they make the outbuildings they've been talking about."

  Q nodded. "They've run out of marble. I'll be going and getting more as soon as someone shows up to take over the gate making. Either that or the gates will have to wait."

  "Other people can fetch rocks." Xen sat up. "King Leano could send Yellow or Fuchsia."

  "I could ask some witches, they'd be delighted to see you again." Q smirked, and Xen made a rude gesture.

  Inso scowled. "You two occasionally make me glad I'm an only child."

  Julianne frowned. "But the names . . . "

  Lon also looked skeptical. "They had a bad population bottleneck a thousand years ago. Lots of similar looking people. Speaking as one who's had his ass kicked, personally. You both look like Dydit Twicecut, and a fellow we called the gate man. De Odd Wif or some such. We were never formally introduced."

  Xen swapped glances with Q. :: No. No more family. Or it will start getting really obvious how thin our appearance of authority is.:: She nodded agreement, and changed the subject slightly.

  "We do have some new racial types, or at any rate some new mixes. The One World evolved differently too, I think. Your nuclear war removed close to ninety percent of the Caucasians." Q led them off onto a new tangent.