Wine of the Gods 26: Embassy

by Pam Uphoff

  Easterly looked back at him. "If you can see through illusions, you've got some magic talent. But that one was made by Xen, and damn few people are strong enough to see through, or break his stuff."

  Hanger gulped and got his feet back into motion.

  Easterly pointed. "That's the privy, and there's a hot shower at the end—we haven't persuaded Harry to plumb for actual baths yet." He visibly hesitated then took the right hand door of the pair on the back of the main building.

  It looked like something a vid director would design as a fantasy medieval tavern. Wooden floor, log walls, a big stone fireplace with a crackling fire. The old Mino serving drinks was too dark for period realism, but the polished wooden bar was perfect, a split log of what looked like mahogany. There were a dozen tables of various sizes and shapes, perhaps a quarter occupied. Easterly grabbed the big round table in the middle.

  "Hi, Easterly. Do you know how many more people are coming?" The teenage girl had a mop of red hair.

  "Nope, but I'll bet Xen and Deena at least. How's Q?"

  "Still mostly sleeping. It got boring fast, so I came back. Aunt Rustle finally decided that she wasn't going to die if she took her eyes off of her, so she's in a speed bubble now." She was tossing silverware out as rapidly as she chattered. "Flare's grilling steaks, and there's chicken pot pie. You're not from this World are you? We have ale, red and white wine, lemonade, hot tea and hot coffee to drink."

  Easterly grinned. "This is Raven, her cousin is the multidimensional expert I spoke of. I'm glad Q is sleeping and I'll have a steak, rare, and coffee."

  Who would name a kid with red hair, Raven? Or are ravens red on this world?

  They all went for the steaks, and Hanger opted for ale.

  There was another waitresses, about the same age, black hair with a dramatic white streak through it. About half the diners were in uniform. "Are we near an army base or something?"

  Easterly nodded. "Fort Crossroads. When we first started dimensional experiments, this is where we did them. We, ahem, figured out how t'open gates, but then we couldn't figure out how t'close them. Fortunately none of t'early gates went to a world that still held dinosaurs. The King decided that a fort between here and t'nearest town, not t'mention Karista itself, was a good idea."

  "Yeah, no kidding." Lancing muttered.

  Easterly just grinned. "So Fort Crossroads is ten miles south. Then we decided t'use one of t'Empty Worlds—a World with no people—and in fact nothing larger than a mouse—as a prison for some . . . special people. So even more soldiers. Unfortunately we hadn't gotten t'whole of t'Hors de Combat, and the loose ones helped t'prisoners escape. All t'prisoners, including a prince who killed his own nephew and so forth. Same nasty bunch you encountered."

  "They're calling themselves the Black Island Pyramid, now." The black haired girl ducked her head, and refilled coffee cups.

  Easterly tapped the printouts. "Dagger is Jade's daughter. As soon as she was old enough, had the magical strength and skill to open t'locks they had on their corridors, she bolted. She's still kinda shy. That lot are not good parents."

  Hanger thought about the party raid, the casual rape and games. They looked all right, playing around the pool, but no, not good influences.

  Easterly's eyes lifted every time the back door opened. The people he was expecting arrived halfway through the large and delicious steaks.

  Four men, with the dark haired woman from Easterly's office.

  "Prince Garit Negue, Captain Xen Wolfson, Lon Hackathorn and Inso Clostuone. All Disco, and Captain Deena Janic, an officer of the King's Own, like me." Easterly waved at them. "These guys tangled with the Hors and wound up stranded."

  He introduced them, getting all their names, ranks, and specific police forces correct.

  "I really had hoped that lot would get lost. I don't much like the idea of them having a gate here." Negue was muscular, mid to late twenties with a beautiful head of blonde hair.

  Wolfson was tall, two hundred and four cems easy. Medium tan skin, dark eyes, light brown hair. Very young, early twenties at a guess.

  Hanger hid a smile as Albrecht's gaze swung from one to the other. Don't drool!

  "Pleased to meet you." Her voice sounded close to normal. "Agent Sommer Albrecht, Federal Bureau of Investigations . . . somewhere . . . "

  Wolfson flashed a grin. "The FBI. Close to half the worlds I go to have one."

  Lon Hackathorn on the other hand was middle-aged, weathered and confident. Northern European type. Used to doing things, probably from a senior position.

  He nodded. "Precursor to the UEBI."

  Inso Clostuone was harder to place. Middle Eastern phenotype, past middle-age, with whipcord muscles and predatory eyes that checked them all out, narrowing as he spotted their weapons. "Bloody trusting Fallen."

  "They're cops." Easterly sat back. "How's your war shaping up?"

  "It's devolved into a war of words. If Q hadn't come so close to getting herself killed it would have devolved into low comedy." Xen nodded to include them. "Has Easterly told you of our little problem? Cross dimensional invasion. The first magic user on the scene shifted the gate and started working on the soldiers."

  Hanger frowned. "You lot don't appear to be carrying weapons . . . "

  Xen scowled. "No such thing as a disarmed witch. They did finally manage to shoot her. She's got damn good shields. A fellow from one of the other Embassies realized what was happening and jumped through, grabbed her and brought her out. Umm, do you have magic in your world? No, well, perhaps I should just say Q laid a really interesting curse on the soldiers and the problem was solved."

  What? A curse?

  Easterly pinched the bridge of his nose. "Xen, I hope you realize there are days I wish I'd never met you." He smiled crookedly at the four from Earth. "Growing up, magic was just a tall tale. It got loose somehow recently and now we have things like this happening."

  Albrecht shook her head. "For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to pretend that you are joking about a single person stopping an invasion."

  Xen grinned. "It's generally safest that way."

  "You and Q are going to end up burned at t'stake."

  "Is there prejudice against magic, or against people who aren't magic?" Albrecht surveyed the room, thoughtfully. "I see a wide range of skin colors, but only the hired help is really Mino." She nodded at the bartender.

  Xen and Easterly looked blankly at her, then at the old bartender.

  "Mino?" Lon asked.

  "Sorry. Racial Minority. Black. African."

  "Harry owns the Tavern and he's one of the most powerful magic users in the Multiverse." Xen was clearly amused. "Over a thousand years and there's still racial prejudice?"

  Deena poked him. "We're human, we always find something to be prejudiced against. Right Xen?"

  "I do recall someone using Traveler as a pejorative, and threatening to do something I'm sure I don't recall to me if I told her she was a witch one more time." He sobered as he looked back at Albrecht. "Skin color seems to be one of the things we've adjusted to. Gender, magic, nationality, money, noble title or lack thereof, are most of ours."

  "I . . . hate asking questions about magic, since I don't believe in magic." Chris squirmed a bit. "But this Q that got shot? No magic bullet proof shields?"

  "Actually it was a bit of a fluke, and a bit of our being unaware of the power of some of the weapons." Xen shrugged. But there was a hint of tightness around his eyes that belied his casual air.

  "Shields are slick. A complete shield that goes under your feet is worse than walking on slick ice. Nothing but prat falls, and who know how far you'll skid if you fall on a hill."

  "Umm . . . really?"

  "Really. So an experienced witch like Q is shielded everywhere but the soles of her feet. The machine gun knocked her off her feet and rolled her, until she got a magic grip on the ground, and sealed her shield all around herself while lying flat. I think she got hit by a bullet that penetrated enou
gh ground while ricocheting to get under the edge of the shield. We'll be working on preventing that from happening again."

  Albrecht nodded again. "So. Tell us more about these Hors de Combat."

  They talked and ate. They knew the names of about half the raiders, the others had shown up at the prison break without provenance, so to speak. Several they knew personally.

  "From Wizard's school. Heso, Zap, Ronnie and Eldon." Xen looked glumly at the list. "I taught Eldon there. He really wasn't as wild as the others, who pretty much hung out together getting into trouble. Then Ricardo came along. He was . . . precociously bad. Joined up with Heso and Zap to start getting into trouble. At first they were just nuisances. Sexual escapades with a royal prince."

  "Oh yeah, I suppose we ought to have asked about your government." Albrecht sighed.

  Xen shrugged. "Basic monarchy, stupid nobles having to be shown their lack of superiority on a semi-regular basis. When we get further along we'll do the diplomatic stuff and you'll probably learn more than you want to about us."

  The rest of the locals just nodded. Easterly looked back at the pictures. "Ronnie and Eldon joined the gang a few years later. Then they murdered that same Prince. These four were arrested, tried, and sentenced."

  They sorted through the papers.

  "And these six women as well. They couldn't execute them, because the man who hired the assassination was Prince Mirk. This one. And the king couldn't bear to kill his own son. They stuck them in an upscale prison, with Rivolte here, who was a duke who rebelled against the king. Then Lord Fidel Iron and his son Thomu got in touch with Ricardo about another assassination. We stopped that one, killed Ricardo, arrested Fidel and Thomu and tossed them in the same prison."

  Hanger tapped one of the last pictures. "And this guy? He appeared to be leading the whole group. "

  "The black haired fellow is one of the unknowns. We spotted him first in the prison break and apparently he's taken up raiding through the dimensions." Wolfson shook his head. "We have no idea where he came from."

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Early Summer 1399

  Seaside

  "Didn't we throw you out of here once already?" Rior stalked over to the big farmer.

  One of the local sluts giggled. "Tyrone don't like being throwed out. Here, now, you just drink a bit more of this and you'll be all fixed up." She was bending over Mag, showing a hell of a lot of cleavage. She reminded him of someone, with all that black hair. Mag grabbed her and pulled down with her huge cleavage landing on his face. In seconds they were wrestling around like porn stars.

  'Tyrone" got his back up about it and stalked over to break them up, but Ajay and Bender jumped to stop him, and the witches jumped in and pretty soon it was hard to tell if it was a fight or an orgy. One! He just purely hated that wine. And it seemed like everyone on that World had it, these days. The edge of a spell hit him, and he jumped as thrills shot up his body. He eyed the three peasants, but turned and stalked down the trail. Later. Falchion, looking a bit pale and frail was just walking up it.

  "Good, we want to shift the far side so these peasants can't find it again." He escorted her through the wrestling match. "And for the sake of the One! Don't get pregnant again, like these idiots are attempting. You know how important you are, you shouldn't let yourself be used as a broodmare."

  She smiled wanly. "I'll push it a quarter mile or so. In the brush it will be impossible for them to find."

  "Perfect." He bent and kissed her gently. He really needed to get back to wooing her properly. He eyed the writhing bodies and stomped off. These people were insane. If it wasn't orgies, it was babies. Or both together. Babies everywhere. What was wrong with these people?

  I'll come back and stun them before I throw them out, so they can't find the gate.

  He found Becca and Herrietta back on their feet and the kitchen in order. That was a relief. One day without servants, and the men were off stirring up trouble through the gates. At least they'd just done it in their home world, not one they were working in. The women fixed him a sandwich and he retreated to the library. Mirk and Fidel were there, and they chatted about how soon they should reopen a gate to Rivolte.

  "We need to stop these criminal raids." Mirk told him. "For people with our abilities, more money can be made without these crudities. We need to retrieve Rivolte, he's vulnerable, the way they followed the women through they must know about the books. He'll grumble, but we'll just have to start over on another World quite similar to that one."

  Rior nodded reluctantly. "The gemstone supplier is doing well for now, but we could take that money, and invest it, go for a second holding company."

  Fidel smiled thinly. "I've already started. I sold gold in the British Empire, and I'm buying and selling real estate. It doesn't matter whether or not I make money—the pay off is a deep background and people who have met me and done business with me. Really, I'm so tempted to purchase shares in the Lunar Redoubt. Would a corridor work from Earth to Moon?"

  Rior grinned. "Only one way to find out." Glancing out the window he saw that the orgy had grown legs and was staggering poolwards. That big horse was even there, three women on his back, no just two with a scrawny farmer sandwiched between them. Falchion was plastered all over that big farmer, and he choked back a growl. "According to Jade, Epee, Falchion, Gauntlet and Halberd were specifically designed by Teri. We need to try and stimulate their ability to open gates."

  Mirk nodded. "I was away when they went into labor, I hadn't realized they got knocked up a month ahead of the rest of these silly women. I wanted them to study the gates while they were in labor. That's when Falchion first saw how they were made. Next time I'll keep a better watch on them, and employ some muscle if that's what is needed."

  "Hmm. Could that be the secret? We'll need to really watch Betelgeuse, in case it's the first labor that is crucial."

  Fidel wrinkled his nose. "Those women and their fast room. There's no telling how old those children are, nor how fast they'll mature. For all we know, they could age three years next week."

  Rior met both their eyes. "We need to be careful how we speak of them. They are magically powerful enough to give us a great deal of grief."

  Fidel frowned. "We need to take advantage of their promiscuity and breed them ourselves—use them to create powerful sons and daughters that we can raise in a more proper fashion. I've heard that witches can tell who fathered a child. We need a studbook, to avoid inbreeding, and we need to, well, Lord Rior, you are the only one of us with magic, so I should say, it would be useful if you could figure out how to engineer the genes. This . . . witch . . . Teri can do it. Dusk and Nimbus are known to the Ash witches, spent a couple of years being raised there. If they were to 'run away from this home to get to that home' could they get training? Learn how to change genes?"

  "It would be worth the risk, wouldn't it?" Rior nodded. "But they're only eleven or so. Betelgeuse is a few years older, less malleable. I'll talk to the women tomorrow."

  But before he sought his bed, he walked up to the third floor of the women's wing, where the three older girls lived. Dusk and Nimbus were asleep, but Betelgeuse was restless. She was a pretty thing, with soft brown hair and blue eyes. Sixteen or seventeen years old, perhaps?

  "Betelgeuse, we're worried about you witches not getting proper training. Do you think you could stand to be away from your friends and family long enough to get trained by the Ash Witches?"

  Her eyes opened wide in shock.

  "You'd have to say you ran away from us. That you never ever want to see us again. Probably for four or five years. I suspect you'd be with your Grandmother. Then we'd come and see you, see if you were through learning, and could teach the younger witches, or if you needed to stay longer." He stroked her hair gently. "Think about it. Let me know when you've decided, either direction." He kissed her gently, chastely, then left.

  I should have started charming her years ago, it'll take a strong bond to keep her loyal
.

  Seduce her? No, that would backfire over a five year gap. She'd either feel used, or her aroused sexuality would drive her to seek out some other man. Best she remain a virgin, with rose colored dreams. Rior shook his head. I can barely remember being a teenage girl.

  The second floor—half the young children and their mothers had rooms here—was quiet. Asleep, bubbled . . . out at the pool for yet another orgy.

  He detoured toward the pool and caught the "Hehehe!" of one of the natives. He cast haploid spells around profligately. Gauntlet felt it and staggered over to him, pulled him away from the noisy party. "Don't want any more babies around, or are you saving us all for yourself?" She threw the orgasm spell, and with her training and power behind it, without a shield up . . . he staggered back and curled up in an ecstatic ball, fighting to keep control. She pulled his pants down and straddled him. The spell wrapped tighter, knotting him into an engorged and spewing brainless animal while she laughed. "That's our choice, not yours. Remember that." Apparently satisfied, she released him, and he crawled away to pull himself together. He stalked up to his bedroom, where, unfortunately he could hear the partiers. What were they doing in the front of the mansion?

  He looked down. Mag, the damned trouble maker, talking to one of the farmers. I'll have to get that gate moved again. And Mag . . . I've lost control of him, not that I ever had more than a bit of influence.

  "See, I figured it out. The witches have this gene so they only have girl babies."

  "Everyone knows that." Mag sneered.

  Rior nodded. Probably another one of their choices. He shuddered and vowed to never cross them again. They'd gotten so powerful. So . . . arrogant. They would be a bad bunch to try to fight. Gauntlet hadn't even noticed the shields he'd tried to throw up, to regain control of himself.

  "Ah, but does everyone know how to get around it? This elixir, only a hundred royals. Guarantees a son. Or if you want a really powerful daughter—a goddess? This is t'one you need. Also a hundred royals. I got them both in Rip Crossing. The place to go for magic and sex."