Sea Wolves (Wine of the Gods Book 21)

by Pam Uphoff

  He dripped wine into the chilly half cup of water and savored it. Pushed the cup back where it could collect more water, and drifted off again. Nerves. Line them up, get them together so the wine can work on them, and then I think I can . . . I dreamed once that I could do major nerve repair . . . He had to shut down that line of thought. "This is a bad time to cry over someone who died two years ago. The God of Spies can't be summoned through gates by people who don't know a god of spies even exists."

  It was fully dark before he moved out, using the thin light of the crescent moon to slip quietly north. He crossed a track to the coast without any sign of guards. He kept moving until the moon set, and then he found an east facing niche and slept for hours. He moved again in the pre-dawn light. Found water. Curled up and slept in the sun.

  The goats found him about noon, and he managed a tiny charm to persuade one to stand and be milked, drinking cupfuls as he filled them. He released her, and shifted away from the water before the boy who should have been minding them tracked them down and took them away. He drank his last cup of goat's milk at sunset and set off feeling much better. By moonset he'd found an actual foot path, and followed it by starlight past several little clusters of huts until it met with a rutted dirt road. He disturbed the dogs in the huts. Not much barking, but plenty of whimpering. What did he smell like to the poor puppies? Three day old blood, sweat and terror? Where the track forded a small stream, he turned and followed it down stream until he found a pool large enough to immerse himself in, to soak loose the clothes adhering to his skin around all the little pinprick wounds the Sea Wolves had been having so much fun poking in him. He forced himself to stay in the cold water until he'd gotten all his clothing off, and roughly washed. Then he laid the clothing out to dry and shivered until the sun was high enough to warm him. The arrow holes and miscellaneous slashes all healed. Not as fast as he was used to—he was low on energy and desperately hungry. There were low bushes along the water, and he listened carefully and found a bird's nest and swallowed raw egg without the faintest revulsion.

  Inside out, his clothing looked dirty and ragged, not uncanny. Five days worth of ragged beard. He sawed off the other sleeve to even things up and tucked his numb arm through a hole for a sling and started walking down the road in the dusk. By midnight his guts were informing him that between dehydration, questionable water, goats milk and raw eggs they'd had enough to make him miserable. And proceeded to do so.

  He laid up until dawn, then walked on down the road, feeling definitely weak. But he was walking generally downward, and by noon was down in a river valley with grazing cattle and large flourishing gardens. He paused long enough to sort through his coinage, and walked on into the little village. No so little. It had an actual public house.

  The Publican scowled and advanced to eject the ragged beggar that had dared to step through his door, but softened as Xen hastily fumbled out three pennies. "That'll get tu some bread, but tu be off and wikal elsewhere."

  Xen made a show of searching for more, and pulled out a Organte two real piece. "Wine, Xawaga?" he said hopefully.

  The publican stepped into the back and returned with a flour sack. "Bread and a little wine. Now va."

  Xen slogged away happily, and found a boulder on the far side of the village where he could sit and mix the drop of wine left in his flask to the quarter of a bottle the publican had tucked into the sack. The wine cheered up his guts no end, and he wolfed down half the bread. His inventory was climbing. He now had a flour sack, an almost empty wine bottle and half a loaf of bread. He examined his numb arm. Massaged the muscles and stretched the tendons. His fingers tingled, and when he tried to make a fist they twitched a bit. "Well. Guess I should have believed those old books." He climbed to his feet and started walking. His fingers tingled and itched until he nearly wished for numbness again.

  Careful, small expenditures and a lot of walking—increasingly uphill—got him to the Fashir—Allantro border in another week, with a ragged cloak and bread and cheese and half a bottle of wine in two sacks over his shoulder. His right hand could close in a weak fist, and he could flex the elbow. He'd cut a staff of soft light wood. It wouldn't do him much good in a fight, but it did seem to fit the ragged beggar look, and let him slump down to hide his excessive height.

  The Border Guards were busy enough to not be bored into playing games with the helpless, but not so busy they didn't look him over. He got an extra coating of dust from the stage headed south as he stumped up to the little hut beside the road. It couldn't hurt.

  The hut looked familiar. The pass wasn't but then he'd seen it only at night in a blizzard. Somehow he'd been sure it was higher and more majestic.

  "Qual is su business en Allantro, Gidd?" The guard was looking hard at Xen's right side, hidden in the cloak.

  They've put out descriptions. They've realized I escaped.

  Xen sat down on the bench, with much show of stiffness. "I safir to pray at the temple at Furnche." He pulled back the cloak and pulled his arm out of the supporting hole, flexed the fingers slightly. "I broke mi arm last enero, and esta weak. Gotta pray to the God of Fallahin, to restore my strength, so I'm no a burden to my familia."

  The guard relaxed and waved him on. "I hope your god is listening. Ruh, old man."

  Old man? That's a first. I hope it's all the dust.

  Xen grunted to his feet and stayed bent over his pole until the winding road took him out of sight. Fashir was solidly in the Organtes federation. Allantro was in, but known to be unenthusiastic. So it would be full of troops and agents. He made sure his right arm showed clearly, thereafter. Two days later he was in the town of Nanchez, and walked down to the town's small pier. The Organtes had no idea who had visited their hidden shipyard, most likely the Cove Islanders were their main concern. But a fast Western ship putting into an unimportant fishing village might attract the wrong sort of attention. It was time to try a bit of magic.

  The anchorage for the larger fishing boats was protected by the outthrust rock ridges to north and south and some big fangs of rock sticking up on the northern half of the inlet. Hmm, way out on one of those ridges it might be possible for a boat to make a pickup.

  He bought some bread and steamed fish, and sat in the sun to eat and relax. Closed his eyes and poked the narrowest, most directional hole in his magical introversion possible.

  :: Deena? :: He felt for the feisty hot feel of her thoughts and found worry and grief.

  She couldn't hear him at this range.

  ::Easterly? :: Rock solid calm as usual, but an instant relief.

  :: Where are you! You bloody damned wizard! ::

  ::Nanchez. Any possibility for a lift off, say, one of the rock points? ::

  There was a long pause. :: The Captain says the rocks are nasty, but he can send in the little boat at slack tide when it won't get thrown around too badly. That will be an hour after midnight, tonight. He says the northern arm would be better. ::

  ::Right. Tip of the northern arm. Hour after midnight. ::

  He celebrated with a minor spending spree, more bread and cheese, an apple and a jar of the small smoked fish they put up in oil. He quite liked the kippers, and made a dinner of them, half way out the rocky point. Then he sat through the afternoon watching the waves, water, and sunset. As low tide approached he made his way from rock to rock, soaked to the waist, but clear of most of the hazards.

  :: The north side of the tip looks less hazardous. :: He thought.

  He felt Easterly's exasperation. :: We noticed. And also noticed a maniac trying to feed himself to the sharks. ::

  :: Sharks are much too sensible to get themselves tossed onto rocks. I'll swim out to you. ::

  :: There are sharks, Xen. Big ones. ::

  Xen relaxed and released his mental hold on his magic. Sent his sense out into the water. Sharks? Oh yes. Indeed, and they were being controlled as well. A bit roughly. No real expertise, there. Not that they needed it. I'll have to ask Nil about how to handle
overwhelming numbers plus a double compass. He started worming his way in, felt the operator's keen interest in this boat. A simple illusion of the boat heading for the inlet north of the rocky ridge drew the two sharks after it. He worked it carefully, and dulled their other senses.

  But he let them get a good ways away, and Easterly's boat a lot closer to the rocks before he slipped into the water and swam awkwardly out to them.

  "Old Gods, Xen. Don't you dare feed yourself to the sharks after all the worrying we've been doing."

  "Hey, I'll take sharks over those Sea Wolves any time." Xen reached one handed for the boat and Easterly grabbed him.

  They manhandled him almost gently into the boat, and Jenet rowed for the Petrel while Easterly started examining him. Starting with the right arm.

  "I stuck it back on. The cells don't die for hours, you know?" He grinned. "And yes, I am really, really glad to see you."

  He poked Xen's arm dubiously. "I think that's an improvement on having to grow a whole arm back."

  "It's still pretty numb." Xen shrugged, which didn't hurt anymore.

  "You look awful." Easterly looked a bit green himself.

  He scratched his chin. "It's the beard, isn't it?"

  "And the hair, the rags, the stoop, the way you hold your arm . . . "

  Xen straightened his back, and rotated his shoulders to loosen them. "Well, at least I got the dust and stink off. I'm not shaving the beard until I've seen it in a mirror though."

  Easterly snorted, and the Petrel appeared suddenly in the dark.

  Jenet shipped oars as they came alongside, and reached for the bow line.

  Easterly grabbed the stern line and tied it off and they were lifted quickly onboard.

  Deena was there to help him climb out, grinning fit to burst, and the captain looked pleased. "May we depart?"

  Easterly nodded. "Yep. The sheep have recovered their lost shepherd, take us to Karista."

  "How do you feel magically?" Deena was looking worried, now that she could see him.

  "Fine, actually. I was limiting my use, just in case the Sea Wolves were listening. Next time I'm going to stop and find a Travel point on the way to wherever I'm about to get into trouble. On the other hand, I note that you two haven't hustled those plans up to Colonel Janic. And what happened to the ship we were trying to steal?"

  "Ha. That's where you are wrong." Deena looked smug. "We escorted the stolen ship until we met up with the Pelican off the Cove Islands, and handed everything, including our reports, off to Captain Wacolm. He ordered us to get back down here and wait for as long as we felt necessary. We just got here yesterday, and we were thinking about trying to pump the local fishermen about whether a one armed man had been asking about the Petrel."

  "We figured we'd check out the border, next." Easterly said. "Deena was keen on buying a Traveler's wagon and crossing, but I figured I could restrain her insane impulse."

  "Ha!"

  With safety came the need to sleep. Xen yawned though a quick wash and dressed in clean dry clothes and crawled into his bunk.

  Xen was vaguely aware of being woken to eat, several times, but most of the trip passed in a sleepy blur. He almost woke up to being shaved and washed and shoved into a uniform, slept through a carriage ride, and was shaken awake to walk into headquarters. He sat down in Colonel Janic's office, and at some point heard Fuchsia's amused tones saying something about taking after his father, and then Quicksilver's light touch to his forehead.

  "Hmm, almost as bad as when he was shot on One World. This is his fourth serious injury in six years. I don't think he's going to be reporting for duty until he's completely healed. May I take him home and tuck him into bed? I'll give you a progress report weekly, if you really want. Or you can send the gang to check on him occasionally."

  "Xen, can you wake up enough to talk to me? Should I let you sleep?"

  Xen pried his eyes open to see Janic peering worriedly at him. "Yeah, hopefully I won't sleep for a whole year like my Dad does when he's been badly injured." He tried to beat his brains back into working order. "We ought to tell the Islanders. They'll hit that facility, burn the ships . . . "

  "The King will decide that, not that you're paying me any attention." Janic voice slid into exasperation. "Usually you slice and dice opponents by the dozens without breaking a sweat. What happened?"

  Xen squinted. "The council hall battle? No mages, no shielded opponents, no magic being used against me? No problem. That Empire battle? That was just a mixture of servants with guns and some arrogant young aristocrats who knew all about sport fencing and very little about serious, military grade, battle magic, but I still nearly got myself killed by a man with the sense to wait until I was shielding against both mental and energy assault to shoot me."

  "No teleporting?"

  "Umm, to teleport you need to hold in your mind the recognition of where you are, and where you want to travel to, and a very complex spell web, and put energy into it. It can't be done while holding two shields and fending of a half dozen swordsmen. Especially since I found out the wrong way that they knew some very weird variations of the spells I'm used to, and their arrows had the best shield piercing spells I've ever seen." He shrugged. "I thought I'd be able to disengage, retreat enough to teleport or at least warp light and run like hell."

  Janic's eyebrows rose. "So you may be an incredibly powerful wizard, but you're not all powerful? I think I'm glad to hear that. Princess Quicksilver, he's all yours."

  "I'll put him in a speed bubble and get him back to you quickly. And I am not a princess!"

  Xen snickered, and then she was lowering him into a wonderfully soft bed and he let it all go.

  Chapter Nine

  Cove Islands

  Early Spring 1397

  And then, dammit, diplomatic espionage. Not Kara's favorite job, but at least it didn't look like she'd need to seduce anyone in this delegation. No problem chatting with them, down table a bit from the king at a state dinner.

  "So while our exports are minimal, we do need to have friendly relations with the Cove Islands."

  Kara eyed the man. Representative of a Fascian Colony on the Asian continent. Jaimie Felis was a good looking man, tall and broad, fit.

  "I never did understand why Fascia would want a colony so inaccessible to them."

  "Oh, we've, I mean they have nearly absorbed Jyth, and we control the Narrows. So while getting to the capital is awkward, the Ammarate as a whole is, well, nothing's close when it's across the Cific, but it's accessible."

  "But you're a splinter group?"

  "Yes. It . . . we changed the form of government. We're more of a Federation of states now, with an elected government. The Amma felt that true self government was being impeded by his presence, and so last year he moved."

  Everyone within hearing range looked at the man as if he'd grown a sea devil's horns.

  "That's . . . a bit hard to believe." Admiral T'Sanjac was on his other side. "It sounds more like an exile, or perhaps fleeing ahead of a coup."

  Felis just shrugged. "I doubt we'd be welcome back. But we do want to stay in touch, and so we're talking with merchants about what trade goods would be worth their crossing the Cific. And we thought we should let you know that we'll be coming and going. We have no wish to get on your bad side, as you are, after all, the largest Navy on the world."

  "And the largest merchant fleet as well." Kara frowned. "Or will you stick exclusively to Fascian flagged ships?"

  He grinned. "To be honest? We haven't found anyone with the faintest wish to cross the ocean for us. But the idea has been planted, and no doubt we will eventually get up some semblance of regular trade."

  Kara looked beyond him, to the admiral. "I know you explored to the west, are we now having to patrol the area?"

  "No. We have no shipping interests, yet. I was mostly surveying the islands south of this colony's position."

  Felis perked up. "We have some old maps. I'd love to find the sites that are marke
d as cities, before the comet fell."

  Admiral T'Sanjac sat up at that. "I've visited the New Tokyo ruins—the Westerners are excavating several buildings."

  "There was a New Miami and a new Bombay on the maps."

  Kara shut up and listened as enthusiasm stripped the Auralian accent from Felis's speech and T'Sanjac forgot himself and talked about the occasional ruins along the coast.

  Across the table, Carmine listened, bright-eyed and taking it all in.

  After dinner, the girl sighed as she stopped beside Kara. "Sometimes I hate being a princess. They'll never let me see any of those places."

  Kara made a mental note to push a "goodwill tour" that hit a few capital cities and then the ruins across the ocean. And it's practical, too. If the next king is going to be her son, the other governments need to see that she's intelligent and sensible. Kara looked over to where King Milo was waving a glass of wine and talking too fast. Well on his way to drunk again. Because Carmine may be regent for a very young Sea King.

  ***

  Colonel T'Enterp waved her down. "The Western Ambassador says they've captured a pirate vessel, looks like one of our hulls. We're going to go take a look. I want you along, just in case we need your testimony as to the collusion of the rebels with the Organtes government. Do not mention the record book you stole. We want to identify that entire group, and have in hand irrefutable proof. And even so, it will be difficult to convince the King."