by Pam Uphoff
Chapter Ten
Crossroads, Kingdom of the West
Spring 1397
He dreamed for ages. Or perhaps months. Half waking to eat and drink, sleeping and healing.
Wavelength's room. What was he doing in his unofficially practically adopted niece's room? Oh yeah. Healing where his sister could keep the women away. He had vague memories of his mother working on his arm . . . He certainly had an interesting scar all the way around it. There was water to drink, food under a stay fresh spell, and clean clothes.
He rolled off the mattress and climbed to his feet. Stretched. He felt pretty darn good, if a bit stiff. A bit of the foggy 'slept too much' feeling . . . his right fingers wiggled properly, and the arm flexed. Hmm. Not as muscular as it had been. He eyed his other arm, chest . . . "I should have exercised, whenever I woke up. I'm badly out of shape."
He listened both physically and mentally. Nothing. He opened the door, unsealing a bubble, and the little twinkles of small life flooded back in. The distant glows of larger life, people and smart horses. But he was alone in the house, so he piled the sandwich and water on the clean clothes and headed for Q's decadent bathing room and privy.
She'd split the difference between the 'civilized' custom of having the toilet inside the house with the sensible one of having it out, by putting it out a long, well ventilated tunnel through the rocky hill she'd built her house into. The bathing room was halfway between house and privy. She'd contrived a fascinating collection of magical effects on a deep water well and cistern.
The turn of a knob filled a deep tub with hot water, and he soaked and soaped for ages. The mirror informed him that his long beard was not aesthetically pleasing. Nor the medium length. Nor the short one. He took the rest off with a sigh. And then the mustache, and cut his hair as well. He looked ridiculously young. With a sigh he headed for the nearest door and walked out into a chilly day. Late winter or early spring . . . hadn't it been summer? No, that was in the southern hemisphere. He turned around and walked back inside and checked the bedroom. The bubble surrounding the bedroom jittering with energy. Good Grief Q! How fast is that bubble?
He walked back out and found company.
:: About time you woke up.:: Pyrite snorted. :: It's boring without you getting into trouble. You need to take me with you. Being in the Black isn't that bad. ::
Xen leaned on the horse. :: Yeah. You're handy in a fight. And you can shield . . . not to mention that you make it a whole lot easier to just run away. ::
He stepped through the corridor to his house and found an enthusiastic welcome from a miscellany of soldiers, dogs, cook and maid. He changed into his uniform; it hung loose. He wrinkled his nose at it and walked out the back. He was breathing hard in the five blocks it took him to get to the headquarters building.
He was recognized and welcomed back by all the door guards, and panted up the five flights of stairs to Magic Central. Deena spotted him first and swooped out to hug him. Yellow's hug had less emotion and more, umm, physicality. Fuchsia rolled her eyes, "About time, Sleeping Beauty."
Then Easterly came out grinning. And grinned even worse. "Xen, don't tell me that a few flights of stairs has you huffing like a teakettle? Oh, desk duty and training for you, God of Spies."
"I am not . . . " Xen sighed. "I really hate the collective subconscious. How did you know that would work?"
"Umm. I didn't. But I thought there was a chance, so . . . "
"So. Umm, should I haul myself up another flight and let the Other Boss know I'm alive?"
"Nah. Rest. You're going to need it. I'll go. Deena, give the man a brief version of all he missed."
"Missed . . . how long did I sleep this time?"
"Two weeks." Deena frowned at him. "For us. You look like hell. Sit down. Let's see. One, the shipyards have the ship, General Rufi has everything else. Two, the diplomats are talking to Cove Islands about the Sea Wolves. Three, we think either the Earth or the One World has opened a Gate in Discordia. Possibly both."
"Thank God I didn't sleep any longer."
***
But he was, none-the-less sent off for a couple more weeks of recovery time.
Which he decided would be best spent in Rip Crossing, with nice hot pools to soak in, and this late in the winter, the parties were winding down, people were heading for Rip World, and the most dangerous inhabitants—the Farmer girls—were playing with their youngest children. A bit over a year old, going by size and bipedal locomotion.
One of their toddlers toddled over and gave him a strong zing. He eyed the women balefully. "I was in a healing sleep about the time those kids would have been conceived."
Gavi looked innocent. "Oh? I thought you were awake. You were certainly enthusiastic."
He sighed. "I'm almost afraid to ask how many of you invaded my room."
"Oh, just us four. The other Farmer Girls have their own favorites." Lava batted innocent eyelashes. "If we'd realized you were going to show up, we wouldn't have seduced Orion and Korbin this time."
Kile and Nile giggled. "And pissed off Q again? Two years ago she turned us into purple rabbits and put on a trap spell that lasted ten days."
Xen snickered. "I didn't hear about that."
"Well, we did realize we'd gone a bit too far. And even with her saying ten days, no one got up the nerve to reverse the spell for three weeks. So we had plenty of time to think about it." Lava sighed. "So we didn't even think about seducing you again."
Gavi shrugged. "Not that Orion and Korbin won't have strongly magic babies, with the added advantage of them being around all the time."
Lava rolled her eyes. "And it would be so much more fun if—except during orgies—they didn't prefer each other to any or all of us."
Xen snickered, and split his time between exercise, playing with the kids, and teaching the older children. Advanced classes with the dimensionally able. And even leant a hand to the Rip Motorworks. Sometimes it was hard to tell which two he was doing at any given time.
And observing . . . Orion seemed to spin off Orgies whenever he soaked in a pool. Cor, Old Gods! Was there really an archetype of the Dirty Old Man? It had to just be the culture here, he couldn't possible a baby god.
At least no one will ever pray for the God of Dirty Old Men.
The two weeks were over too soon, and he rode home. Time to get back to work.
Chapter Eleven
Karista, Kingdom of the West
Late Spring 1397
Kara found ten days aboard the Kraken less than enjoyable. Pity, because she usually loved being on the water. But being on the same ship as her immediate superior and three admirals . . . was interesting.
Grand Admiral T'Linc was the ranking officer of the Officers of the Board, the committee of experienced men who controlled the Navy. Boris L'Kitha and Chris T'Sanjac were along as well. The king's friend, and the king's resentful errand boy.
And the most interesting thing about it was the way the three admirals interacted. T'Sanjac was treated with distant courtesy, and long boring tales at dinner. Grand Admiral T'Linc and L'Kitha were closer . . . perhaps. There was courtesy, but also an awareness. A lack of trust, perhaps?
Colonel T'Enterp spent a fair amount of time smoothing relationships.
Perhaps it is just that none of them like being passengers, rather than commanders.
The Admirals each had their batman along . . . Colonel T'Entrep had grabbed a young sailor to serve the purpose for him. Lieutenant Kitha had to do for herself. Not too difficult, but the . . . assumptions of the crew about her relationship with the senior officers galled. She kept her professional face on and stayed out of the way of the crew. However well trained they might be about diplomats' wives or royal princesses, they rather obviously placed a woman with a Crewer name, in uniform, in a different category all together.
I ought to be used to the assumptions about a beautiful young woman by now. But I do not sleep with my boss, nor any other senior officers. Yes, as an Intellig
ence Agent, I've seduced any number of targets. I've also burgled homes and cracked safes. But not my superior officers' homes and safes.
She thought that over, and shivered.
And I hope I never need to.
Dinners at the Captain's Table tended toward technical. The Grand Admiral had insisted on bringing along a master shipwright. Master X'Linc tended to dismiss any possibility that an Island hull could have been captured by a pirate, or, according to the Westerners, built by the Sea Wolves. But at least he was polite to her. In fact, Kara felt a bit like a favorite niece, aged perhaps seven, being encouraged to show an interest in ships.
The sea docks in Karista were large enough for the Kraken, fifteenth of her name. The flagship of the home fleet, the personal ship of the Sea King whenever he went abroad. Or in this case, sent people on his behalf.
None-the-less, they'd anchored well out from the shore. Kara suspected a bit of paranoia, and a desire to have as little as possible between the ship and the open bay.
The Western Navy sent a boat to transport them into the naval yard.
Ambassador Albanes T'Windrov was a noble with a long bloodline, a distant cousin to the Sea King. He'd had been stationed here for a decade, and sailed out to meet them on his own yacht, when the Kraken was sighted. He had known the Sea King would take immediate action on receipt of his report. His quick personal update had been very welcome.
Admiral T'Sanjac and Colonel T'Enterp weren't looking at the rapidly approaching dock. They were turned in their seats to keep studying the ship docked in the next slip of the navy yard. Master X'Linc was hissing as he stared.
"It can't be. It can't."
But if it wasn't a Cove Island hull, it was a damned good copy.
"I need to see it up close." X'Linc swept his glare between admirals and ambassador.
They all nodded. "Yes. And I suspect that's why we're being brought in here." The colonel glanced at the coxswain. Then at the docks as they glided smoothly in. "I believe that is General Rufi Negue leading the reception committee."
The Ambassador nodded. "Interesting. Mind your comments, they'll be listening."
Master X'Linc went over every inch of the ship. "Built by a Master. And so close to spec that they must have had plans, not just some scurrilous worker's estimations." He stalked over and peered at the six cannons. "Not ours. Damn them, they've learned that as well. I don't see any powder or balls, though."
"Those are the easy parts." T'Sanjac's voice was a low growl.
All the admirals looked pissed. The Colonel's glinting eyes hinted at inner fury.
They finished up on the main deck.
X'Linc eyed the superstructure, the joinings of corners. The hatches and doorways. "Has a lot of the marks of a Fashir shipbuilder, up here. I've seen all I need to see."
Kara glanced at the Western general, lounging casually against the rail. No doubt he'd get a report on anything he hadn't over heard himself. The naval officers escorting them wouldn't have missed a word.
Admiral T'Sanjac nodded to the Ambassador. "Your show, now."
***
The Ambassador had requested a formal meeting with the Western King. He got an interesting mix of formal and working.
Kara surveyed the nearly empty throne room as they passed through.
This is where the King would have met the ambassador if he had expected, say, a declaration of war.
She trailed her boss into what looked like a business room. Long table, plenty of chairs. She recognized King Leano from portraits, and from his resemblance to his half brother, the general. The king sat in the middle of one side, with Rufi circling the table to sit on his left. The man to the King's right was the President of the Council. The King was expecting something important.
The Ambassador had frowned when being shown to a side room, then nearly stumbled in shock when he saw the trio awaiting him. All the power of this kingdom, in three bodies.
Kara scanned the rest of the room, the positions of the guards . . . her eye jerked back to the tallest guard. It's . . . No it can't be.
"Mr. Ambassador. Please excuse the lack of public formality. Sit." Leano was watching him closely.
The ambassador sat across the table from him. Kara remained standing beside the Colonel. Admiral T'Sanjac stood on his other side.
"I appreciate your perception that I had something to speak of in private." The ambassador's eyes slid to the colonel seated beside Rufi.
Best bet, Tien Janic, head of Intel.
"As you are no doubt aware, we have been dealing with a great deal of social unrest. To my regret it appears that it has led all the way to treason. We will be turning our attention to those who have joined with the Organtes. The Sea King wishes me to ask for your neutrality in this affair, and further, to close your ports to their ships, both military and mercantile."
The King folded his hands on the table. "We have had a few incidences on the seas with ships with Island hulls, but Organtes colors."
"They call themselves the Sea Wolves." The Ambassador's lips thinned. "Common laborers, they've presented themselves as Lords in Organtes, saying they will return and take over the Islands, with the power in the Sea Kings' hands, as it has been in the past. And it seems that they have stolen ship design plans."
Rufi nodded. "Do they have magical abilities? Do any of the old gods favor them?"
"They claim to be the heirs of the Sea Kings of old, and people say they control the seas." The Ambassador sneered. "The old gods are myths, more so than the supposed powers of the Sea Kings. It's all trickery, supported by a foolish desire to believe in magic."
"Hmm." Leano contemplated the Ambassador. "I disagree with your assessment of magic, but everything you have said agrees with the reports of my intelligence division. I can assure you now of our neutrality. Whether we embargo their shipping is something we will discuss at length with our advisers."
The Ambassador stood and bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Kara stepped out the door first, sweeping a quick look around for danger, then stepping aside. The others followed the ambassador and surrounded him as he departed.
Kara hung back, cocking an ear at the doors, slightly ajar. She could hear the Western king's voice.
"A war between the Cove Islands and Organtes will interfere with trade on this side of the continents."
Someone whose voice she didn't recognize answered. "Unlike the far side, where Scoone has had sense enough to not try and rebuild the war fleet that the Descordians caught in the harbor and burned to the water line." A pause. "We could pass on the location of the ship building facilities we found, but we don't know how many changes have been made, or if they have moved them."
The general's voice. "I'd recommend passing them with those caveats. I take it that we're unanimous on being partial to the Islands?"
The unknown voice. "The lady lieutenant was keeping an eye on you. Was she the spy in the blizzard?"
"Yes, sir. Probably sent here to testify as to the providence of their claim that their rebels and Organtes have joined up."
Even with a Western accent, she recognized that voice. God of Spies, my ass. So, the man who rescued me from a frozen death is a Western spy. Intriguing.
"Which we thought we'd have to convince them of. And was that the admiral at the Sea Wolf Beach Party?"
"No. But possibly a relative, there was a fair resemblance." A snorted. "And to Oscar Harryson."
"That boy did get around." The general's voice. "But take your snow spy some maps, and see what else you can pick up."
"Yes, sir."
Kara slipped out to catch up with the others as they entered an ornate carriage. Must be from the embassy. Which is no doubt where we're headed now.
The Colonel raised an eyebrow.
"They're going to send us some maps. The location of the shipbuilding facility they found." Kara did not add that she'd damn well found them herself a year and a half previously.
Admiral T'Sanjac grinned.
"We'll send the fleet. We may catch them before they finish moving." He eyed Kara. "Could you go into the towns and find out about them?"
She raised her eyebrows. "Women do gossip. If there's any talk I could pick it up. They must buy supplies somewhere, that should be traceable too."
Her boss snorted. "You might be better off sending in a man to drink with the locals. The fishermen out on boats will have seen more than any woman."
The admiral nodded. "Most likely."
***
Lieutenant Kara Kitha stared at the Western officer as the embassy guard ushered him into the conference room. Having her boss standing by didn't help. The colonel was splitting his attention between the Westerner and her. She had reported honestly everything that had happened last year, and now, her recognition of him in the meeting as well. She was beginning to believe that honesty was its own punishment.
And neither the ambassador nor any of the admirals are here.
"We thought you might find this report about a shipbuilding facility we investigated last year interesting. Unfortunately they know we found it, and have probably moved it."
"Captain Wolfson, thank you." Colonel Mel T'Enterp took the report and leafed through it. Still watching her.
She couldn't stand it any longer. The question had itched in the back of her brain all year. "Why purple? Why did you dye the sheepskin purple?"
The absurdly tall young officer snorted and then started laughing. Bit a knuckle and got it under control. "My mother is a geneticist. She was studying the genetic basis for pigmentation and wound up with the most . . . interestingly . . . colored sheep. One is almost afraid to eat the meat, you know? I think the dogs got all the meat off that one. Big ugly ram, pretty lavender wool. We didn't want those genes spread around, just, just. Because. She's still got three purple ewes."