by Pam Uphoff
The other man. "Uncle Met!" She could hear the grief in her own voice.
He spun and swung at her, not the king. She parried with one knife and closed in to drive the other up under his chin, then turned and faced L'Kitha as he backed away to gain enough time to draw his sword. The King kicked himself off the table where they'd held him, grabbed a sword and sliced his hands free of the ropes, and then his ankles.
The man froze, quivering in the knowledge of his onrushing mortality.
"So, it appears that Colonel T'Enterp was one of the leaders of the plot, rather than the man who broke it open. Who wanted me to see the proof, up here in the Board Room, safe from the traitors." The king sauntered around the table. "Drop it, Boris. Surrender and you will live."
L'Kitha lunged, the King parried it, and Kara jumped forward.
"I want him alive." The king grinned nastily as he stepped back. "He has questions to answer."
She changed her attack in mid thrust, whipping her point up from chest to shoulder. L'Kitha whimpered as his sword slipped from his hand. He staggered back, left hand reaching for his knife . . . dropping as his shoulders slumped in defeat. She grabbed him and tied him expertly, searched him, emptying all his pockets.
"Well done," The king eyed her filthy damp uniform.
"Lieutenant Kara Kitha, Sire. May I recommend you stay here while I summon a whole lot of guards?"
"You may."
She circled the room, reclaiming knives, and wiping them down on the traitor's uniforms. Picked up her crossbow and laid in a bolt. Then she eased the door open. Empty hallway. She padded down it, as silent as possible. Down the steps toward the guard she'd seen from below . . . who was backing rapidly away from the men climbing the stairs.
Led by Admiral Chris T'Sanjac. He paused, seeing her on the other side of the retreating guard. The guard cast a glance over his shoulder and paled. His hand spasmmed open and his sword fell to the ground.
"Don't kill him." Kara said. "I want to know why he was guarding the stairs."
The man was pressed to the wall, panting, telling all. "The Grand Admiral told me to insure the king's privacy while they met in the board room."
"What did the king say?"
The man gulped. "He was laughing . . . drunk . . . " His eyes flicked upward. "What, what . . . "
Kara looked past him, at the admiral. "And you are here because?"
"We defeated the Sea Wolf fleet . . . and chased their flagship all the way into the harbor. I assumed an assault on the palace and came in force." He glanced aside at a man in the palace guard's uniform. "I heard the king had come up here with several officers of the board and Admiral Boris L'Kitha, who'd just come ashore. Where is he?"
"Under arrest. Half the Board is dead, after an assassination attempt, foiled by Lieutenant Kitha here." The king's voice from behind her.
He walked down the stairs to stand beside her. "It appears I put my trust in the wrong admiral. Are you saying that Boris is one of those Sea Wolves?"
"I thought he might be their leader . . . but Grand Admiral T'Linc was involved as well?" T'Sanjac sounded horrified.
Kara slowly nodded. "I couldn't see how the Sea Wolves thought they could take power. But . . . perhaps the Board was attempting a more ordinary coup. L'Kitha may have been using them, and planning on topping them. He could be the hero, who solved the assassination, so long as he killed the board members before they talked."
The king sighed. "T'Linc was probably right. I'm a miserable excuse for a king."
Kara cleared her throat. "May I suggest, Your Majesty, that you could do better and provide for a stronger succession by marrying your eldest stepdaughter to an outstanding officer, such as Admiral T'Sanjac, here? He's a nice energetic type, probably clear out the deadwood in the bureaucracy in no time."
T'Sanjac looked horrified. "I'm no good at palace intrigue."
Kara snorted. "His Majesty doesn't require good. He requires trustworthiness."
The admiral glowered. The king barked a laugh.
"Yes. If I can't have a son, a grandson will do . . . and if there's no blood relationship back to me . . . perhaps that's all to the good." The king eyed the admiral. "I always hated you, because you look so much like my brother. Boris did too, but he was such a fat pig as a child, I liked having him around to insult."
The king glanced toward Kara. "I don't think I'll need you to kill him, Lieutenant."
Kara glanced down at her crossbow, and lowered it. Hoped she wasn't blushing. Forgot I had it pointed at him, but by the relaxation of his shoulders, the admiral didn't.
They all looked around at a sudden rise in the sound level from below.
"T'Sanjac, let my guards through, please." The king raised his voice and noise died down.
"Sire?" The voice from below was the head of security.
"Major M'Queen, come up. There's . . . a mess to deal with up here."
A dozen guards squeezed past T'Sanjac's crew. The man in the lead looked odd, the pupils of his eyes dilated. Drugged? Got to give L'Kitha credit for thoroughness. He must have stopped on the way to dump something in the guards' coffee pot.
”Major M'Queen. This is Lieutenant Kara Kitha. She has just saved me from an assassination attempt. She is going to assist you in organizing the situation in the Board Room. Boris L'Kitha is the only one of the conspirators still alive. See that he remains that way. I want information. Be nice to Lieutenant Kitha. I just saw her kill six armed men in less than a minute."
The Major blinked from the king to her. "Yes, Sire."
"T'Sanjac? Let's move this to the throne room. Lieutenant Kitha . . . " The king nodded back up the stairs.
Kara straightened her shoulders. "Yes, Sire."
***
For public consumption, they blamed it all on the Sea Wolves. That in his senility, Grand Admiral T'Linc had come under the influence of Boris L'Kitha.
The king gave a saddened speech on the deck of the Kraken as the Grand Admiral's body was consigned to the ocean. Admiral T'Sanjac read off the lists of the various men's accomplishments before they fell under the sway of L'Kitha's mad ambitions.
Boris L'Kitha was stripped of his rank. Sent to prison, rather than executed, on the king's command.
They found the book she'd damn near frozen to steal, locked in the Colonel's safe at his home. It help immensely in sorting out the top echelons of the bureaucracy and the Merchant's association. Admiral T'Sanjac quickly became the king's right hand man, and was considered a near certainty to marry Princess Carmine.
Colonel T'Enterp, being without children, left his considerable worldly goods to his crew niece, the ink on the will drying as it was "discovered."
Once the Island settled back into its routine, the king threw a huge fete for Princess Carmine's sixteenth birthday, before sending her off on a year long tour of the world. With, of course, her own security attachment, led by Captain Kara Kitha. Kitha was widely acknowledged to be a good looking, intelligent woman, a credit to the few women who served in the Sea King's Navy. Rumors abound that she was being considered for much higher positions in the security or the intelligence divisions.
Chapter Fourteen
Karista, Kingdom of the West
Spring 1398
"So, the Sea Wolves are much reduced, and the survivors are suspected to have sailed around the cape to Descordia." Xen refrained from touching his right arm. "The Sea King seems to be solidly back in control of the Islands, with a quarter of the Officer's of the Board dead in an assassination attempt, and the rest minding their manners and being very very pleasant to the king. His eldest step daughter is probably going to marry Admiral T'Sanjac who knew where the Organtes-rebel fleet would be because the Sea Hag told him. The admiral who led the Sea Wolves made it back to the Island hours ahead of the pursuers and rounded up his backers—or superiors— for a desperate attempt to assassinate the King before T'Sanjac got there. Hard to say who was the leader of the rebels. At this point. I'd guess the Grand Adm
iral was the leader of the assassination plot. But I'm not at all sure he knew L'Kitha was the leader of the Sea Wolves."
Rufi nodded. "Makes sense. The men killed weren't the people being blackmailed. L'Kitha may well have been the blackmailer, to keep the others from interfering with the Grand Admiral's conspiracy. Or to help him 'solve' the King's assassination by their fellow board members. But to be diplomatic, we will never mention any of this."
"Indeed. Don't want people to start thinking politics is a dirty business."
Rufi snorted and dismissed him.
And I'm not going to mention to any Islanders that the king's soon to be son-in-law might actually be the son of the fabled lost Prince. I think the Islands will be getting their O'kar bloodlines back, in the next generation, for better or worse.
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-fifth anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Empire is my twelfth novel. I've also issued three collections of novellas and short stories, and published separately three other short stories.
I'm planning to bring out at least four more books this year. Two of them are manuscripts that I've pulled out the batch making the rounds of publishers, so they should go up quickly. I've got two new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way. And then a third "Zoey Ivers" book in the Doors series. So I may manage to squeak in a fifth book before the end of the year.
I need to find the time to get more books out in print, out to Kobo, Sony, B&N . . . I need to find the time to invent a time machine . . .
Email [email protected] to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases
Other Books by Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Empire of the One
Warriors of the One
Dancer
Earth Gate
The Lawyers of Mars
Fancy Free
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Atlantis (2016)
Fantasy:
Demi God
Excerpt from an upcoming release
Embassy
Chapter One
Karista, Kingdom of the West
Summer 1398
Captain Xen Wolfson scowled at the handwritten report on his desk. "I want to go back to the One World and steal a computer."
"No." Firm and definite, from the common room beyond.
He sighed, frowned and turn his head at the whisper . . .
"If I was an idiot local I'd just pray to the God of Spies . . . "
Xen stood up as the light dimmed and the walls of his office faded away. Felt his face. Collar turned up, hood up and pulled down to his eyes. Dark corduroy jacket with odd shifting colors, loaded with knives and whatever. Full blown God of Spies clothes and gear. So why am I here? And where is here?
He followed the sound of furious whispering in the evening light shining through a few unshuttered windows high in the walls of a cavernous warehouse.
"Ha! You're even stupider than a local. This is all you pervert's fault." That sounds like modern Merican, from Earth. Another marooned soldier, or have they snuck in a powered gate without us noticing? I need to drag Q back from the maze and her experiments . . .
"Like you lot are just the sweetie pies of the Multiverse? You can't even pretend to give equal treatment to subject people, can you?"
Oner accent. Ha! We knew they were back here somewhere.
"Oh, right. Like One World is any better? Your appalling program of breeding with the natives turns my stomach."
And arguing instead of shooting at each other? Wonder how that happened?
He settled down on a convenient crate to watch the two spies.
"Ha. What about all your female gyp drivers. I hear they keep score. Breed with one male on every World they've ever visited." The Oner accent was clear.
"Not breed. We don't allow uncontrolled breeding." A brief snicker. "We don't have to worry about our entire political structure being brought down by reproductive political maneuvers. That Fallen spy just ran all over you. And if he hadn't wanted your President alive, for some purpose, he would probably still be active."
Fallen? Us? And how the hell did they find out about what happened in the Empire? If they've found the Empire . . . or . . . if they are actually negotiating instead of fighting on Granite Peak, they could be picking up anything and everything broadcast.
"Oh? Don't think we weren't in place and watching you lot when that Elf showed up to lecture your general about the Geneva Accords." Nasty snicker.
Sizzling angry silence.
Xen softened his mental shields a bit, and picked up immediate indications of people all around the building.
Yes, every soldier out there was focused on this building, while the magic squads searched. Big strong, ugly feelings. Sea Wolves. Searching. He wondered where he was, and slipped into a side room and looked around . . . newspaper on a table, the Hastu Post.
"The opinion we had of Earth sank even lower after you tried to kill an entire world of people with a bioweapon. Have you no shame, whatsoever?"
Xen slipped back out. "However entertaining it is to listen to the pair of you—and it truly is—the Sea Wolves are closing in. Why don't we leave?" Xen grinned as the dimly seen figures whipped around, trying to spot him.
"And just who might you be?"
"Xen Wolfson, or Endi Dewulfe, or whatever. Sometimes they joke and call me the God of Spies." Xen strolled out into the faint light and reached a hand toward each of them. They shied back and he sighed. "Now, now. No need for all that." He grabbed a pair of shoulders and reached out for a empty spot to Travel to.
The collective had other plans and dropped him on the Tavern's doorstep. He looked at himself. Still in his god suit. He pushed back the hood, folded down the collar. Blinked in the bright light. A good ways west of their prior location, plus the northern hemisphere's summer, and the sun was well above the horizon. "Dinner, gentlemen?"
The three of them, all in dark colors, at the back table, got quite a few fishy looks from the soldiers lingering over late dinners. Nighthawk flashed him a grin and suggested the roast beef. "The chicken is getting a bit dried out."
The spy from Earth claimed to be a vegetarian. Nighthawk looked at him in surprise. "Gosh. I thought Earthmen were cannibals. Or does it not count when it's natives? Since you don't treat us like humans, you know? Oh, sorry. That was rude of me. I'm certain Flare will feed you all sorts of veggies."
She whipped around and walked off, long black hair swaying.
"That's very unhygienic." The Earther muttered.
Xen considered carefully. "Unhygienic. What part? Eating Natives?"
"That hair. I'll probably find some in my food."
"You know, Marty, spies are supposed to not stand out."
"How do you know my name! I don't
use my name here."
"It's this wretched god thing. I pickup all sorts of information out of thin air. And vegetarian? Really rare here, people are going to notice you, remember you. How about you, Utto? Swear by the One once too often?"
"My cover wasn't blown." Marty whined. "I don't know what I did wrong."
Utto rolled his eyes. "Other than broadcast your thoughts? You Earthers are so obvious."
"Yeah. Right. Woohoo, it's magic!"
Xen smiled. "Exactly. Your blindness is even worse than the Oners arrogance." He spotted Marty's impression of the place the Earthers were coming and going from, then melted insubstantial probes through the Oner's shield where it thinned up high. Gate. Where is your Gate? "Umm, you referred to us as Fallen? Why?"
The Earther snorted. "Comet Fall. We named this world Comet Fall, when we discovered it."
"Ah. I see. And, umm, actually you named it Dallas Project B. I expect you renamed it after speaking to our representative who informed you that it was a comet, not an asteroid that caused the crater near your first gate and depopulated that continent. Hmm, Comet Fall. I kind of like it. Very apt."
Nighthawk swooped back with the pot of tea he'd ordered, bread and butter. "And this is olive oil with basil, parsley, and garlic in it." She tapped the small bowl. "In case you don't eat dairy products."
The Earther looked surprised. "She understands the concept, at least."
"Why is it that you Earthers think we're stupid?" Xen tried a bit of the olive oil mixture. "We're all Earth descended. Exiled because we had genetic engineering, not for stupidity."
"You've regressed to a medieval level society. You are primitive and barbaric."
The Oner snorted. "Barbaric? Hardly. They are still a complex society. Just less technical."
Xen nodded. "We've lost most of the records, what with various comets falling on us and so forth, so my understanding is not exact. We regressed a bit industrially at first, and were operating on a steam engine and electricity level when the Comet hit. That killed about ninety percent of the population, and we were pretty much hand-to-mouth agriculture inside magic domes with magic lights for a hundred years. We've never quite lost that dependence on magic, and it has rather crippled our technical advances. I'll show you after dinner what I mean."