Young Warriors (Wine of the Gods Book 10)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Witch!"

  "Evil!"

  "Burn her!"

  The guards were stirring around the room, starting a mass movement toward the podium.

  "You little people had better not threaten ME." The beautiful voice dropped to a nasty growl. She snapped dismissive fingers and disappeared.

  "Oh, crap," the fat man muttered.

  Xen stood in the darkness behind him, listening to the hatred, the accents, the angle of the light through the high windows . . . and rolled out of bed.

  He threw on trousers and boots, and slipped downstairs, shivering in the chilly predawn. "It was morning there. We're five hours behind Scoone, four behind Cadent and Fascia . . . "

  Xen looked around the familiar brick stable yard. "Oh. God. It was just a dream. Has to have been. That man was not praying. I did not actually go anywhere."

  The distant clink of hooves carried in the silence. The rattle of a wagon, the creak of leather harness.

  He trotted around the Tavern to the road. Nothing to the south. To the north, a wagon just dropping off the first hill and turning their direction. A closed box wagon in yellow and red. "Travelers."

  "No, Lefty and Question." Harry walked out the front door. "Looks like it's time for a party."

  Xen grinned and hugged the returning explorers. Then he hustled to put up their team. His courtesy aunt and uncle had spent three years driving all over Arrival. He wanted to hear all about it.

  So did everyone else, so it was quite a party, no matter how early in the morning.

  "Arbolians . . . the whole top echelon of the nation is rotten. The Emperor, the Princes and Princesses are all figureheads. Not related or anything. The Priests have the real power. They control all the magic, and all the people with magical abilities. They've got some variant of the mage gene, but it pulls power from other magicians."

  Rustle was nodding. "What about those horrible gods of theirs?"

  "Even nastier." Question wrinkled her nose. "Well, I suspect the priests abuse them, to try and keep their power under control. The Major Gods are so powerful their chain spell can barely restrain them. They each manifest a field around themselves that has a single effect. They're bonded to a Senior Priest, who can keep them from acting, and also drain their energy and use it themselves. The Little Gods are single source mages with obvious physical birth defects. They can't get anything through their chains, but the priests can drain them, take the power the little gods ought to be able to collect and use themselves."

  Nil growled a bit in the background.

  Dydit switched his glance from the explorers to the old wizard, and edged a bit away. "I trust you stayed away from them?"

  Lefty cleared his throat. "Mostly."

  "I only killed two of them." Question tapped the map in the center of the table. "Then we got to the last country. New Caledonia. It's far off to the east, a long drive through desert or an equally long sea voyage. Their ice age is much worse than ours, and apparently there's a lot of trouble with icebergs and shoals. They never developed much marine trade."

  Rustle sniffed. "That might also have something to do with the rabid expansionist Arbolians."

  Lefty grinned. "Yeah, it was tough not blaming everything on them. Anyway, New Caledonia had a bit of magic still. A few natural wizards, a few witches. No culture of magic, no developed spells. It was all either brute force or subconscious. They weren't as bad as the Arbolians, but the female wizards and witches who had real power, were all called witches and frequently blamed for natural disasters and mysterious deaths, and executed. The natural wizards were considered uncanny, unlucky and avoided. So most of the magicians hid their abilities."

  Never scanned the map. "I really ought to have gone too. Showed those untrained witches a few tricks . . . "

  Question nodded. "I told your Prince Kurt about them, and he's thinking about how to recruit some of them."

  Bringing magic back to Arrival. Excellent idea!

  "Anyhow." Lefty looked completely relaxed, boots on the table. "It's about time we got back to the Steam Engine world. If they've gotten a bit more reasonable about magic, it might be worth contacting their government."

  Never and Dydit both perked up.

  Nil eyed Lefty. "I can't see you as an ambassador."

  "Old Gods forbid! I'm an explorer."

  Dydit grinned. "Ah yes, that stereotype. Just don't go so far that you stray into God territory."

  Question snickered. "Another Baby God like Rustle? Surely not."

  "I am not a 'Baby God.' You make it sound like I'm pregnant!" Rustle glared. "New, maybe. And shouldn't that be Goddess? Or something gender neutral, like victim?"

  Lefty glowered. "Doesn't matter what you call it. I refuse. Anyway, I'm not strong enough magically to be latched onto by the collective subconscious."

  Dydit leaned back and studied him. "But you have a fairly unique calling, which is the sort of thing that would make it easy to fit you into an Archetype."

  Never glanced at Rustle. "If I understand the theory, it's actually more likely that Question would be vulnerable."

  "Hey! I just go exploring to keep that man out of trouble."

  Dydit snickered. "Umm, Goddess of Lightning?"

  Question crossed her arm. "No. I refuse, too."

  Xen shivered. But somehow I doubt the collective subconscious cares about refusals.

  Which brings me back to the question of whether the collective subconscious thinks someone ought to spy on the start of a war on magic. The short fat guy . . . surely he wasn't a spy . . . praying . . .

  I'll have to ask Colonel Janic if there's been any reports of problems in Scoone. Problems with the Goddess of Mercy.

  But of course, it was just a dream.

  Which I'm going to have to report to Colonel Janic in case Scoone really is building a war fleet.

  ***

  Xen escorted overdressed women and their formally dressed husbands to their seats, smiled, intercepted trouble—a sleep spell took care of a belligerent drunk—and otherwise made himself useful.

  Trying hard to not boggle openly.

  The wedding of Lord Rally Faloni and Lady Rena Mason had to be seen to be believed.

  And it took forever.

  Both set of parents nearly collapsed as the coach bearing the happy couple disappeared around a corner.

  No wonder witches don't marry. Not a one of them would put up with this nonsense. He considered some of the young witches he knew and amended that to "less than half."

  The remaining bachelors left the clean up to the servants and fled.

  Phillip and Onray invited them all to dinner "at their town house."

  Only three of the mistresses were in attendance.

  "Has Hoon left?" Xen hid his alarm.

  "Oh, no. She's just . . . not home to visitors." Lida blinked back what looked almost like tears. "I hadn't realized she really cared for Lord Rally."

  But the only glows upstairs were the children.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Spring 1391

  Ash, Kingdom of the West

  The next month was busy, with patrols out regularly, but no sign of last winter's bandit gang was found, and the few miners coming over the pass reported no problems.

  Tanner tried to resist, but finally grabbed poor Garit, who had returned to his desk job, and rode for Ash.

  The fields were sprouting, and the sheep on the hills were shorn. He was a bit disturbed to spot Azure's sisters and their girlfriends. Half of them were quite obviously pregnant, a half that he recognized.

  "Lieutenant Negue." He smiled a bit at the boy's happy expression at being addressed by his military title. This was a prince that seemed to be following in his uncle's footsteps. "On the way to Fort Stag, we stopped at that Tavern. In fact we were iced in for a brief stay." They rode past Lady Inky, and she was huge. "Did you or the captains . . . " He really didn't know what to say, since he'd . . .

  "I'm not at all sure what the captains did, sir, as
I spent a fair amount of time hiding from those women. I certainly didn't."

  Tanner eyed the prince's obvious effort to not smirk. "Oh?"

  "Well, I did hear rather a lot of scampering about and giggles from upstairs at one point. I stayed away."

  "Scampering?"

  "I suppose it could have been the musician and the cook, sir."

  Tanner could see that the boy didn't believe it for a moment. He supposed he should drop a comment in Barros' and Robanik's ears, but if they said something crude, he knew himself well enough to know he'd . . . take it poorly

  Then he spotted Azure. She was much smaller, but still obviously pregnant. He relaxed as he realized that her sisters and friends must have already been pregnant before they met them in the Tavern. He'd heard stories about dissolute Karista nobles. He really needed to take his Azure away from all that.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Spring 1391

  Crossroads, Foothills Province

  "I can't even be sure Hoon's left the city, damn it." Xen pulled off the saddle and racked it. "I wish I could get inside the God of Art's mansion. She's been known to go there. But she's not anywhere else she's known to visit."

  Pyrite sighed.

  Xen grinned. "All right, you already know that. You went everywhere I went."

  Snort :: Carrying you. You got to ride. ::

  "Oh, yeah? And who got all snotty and insulted when I suggested he take a few days break while I rode a different horse?"

  Bug peeked in the barn door. "I'll sneak him extra oats. You won't get any sympathy from me! "

  "Humph. Nobody appreciates me. Look at all I've done for you. Dunked you in the horse trough, dressed you in a fine feed sack, ran you down and drug you kicking and cursing into the vile clutches of a fabulous cook . . . "

  That finally got a giggle.

  Six horses in stalls. Four of them probably belonged to the wagon in the yard. "So, what have we got for company?"

  "Two guys brought a load of horseshoes and stuff to the fort, and said they'd much rather pay to stay here and get real food than stay for free at the fort and have to eat that shi . . . slop they serve." She pressed her lips together, and actually reddened.

  :: Too bad. She's such a good curser. ::

  Xen grinned at the horse. "You would be impressed."

  :: She's funny. I hope she stops being nice. ::

  Bug glared. "What did he say?"

  "He said you were a very nice young lady."

  "Ha! Snake tongued liar!"

  Pyrite snickered. :: I'm going to go out and roll, you can brush me later. ::

  "Righto, Horsey. So, Bug, just two guys?"

  "Nope, there's a lady from Karista. She took the stage to Bridgeton and bought a riding horse and a pack horse there."

  "How'd you find out so much?"

  "Oh, I listened when those two guys chatted her up." Her nose wrinkled. "I think she's magic. When she got bored, they just went away, like they'd forgotten her."

  Xen blinked. "Umm, Harry may have had something to do with it."

  Couldn't be.

  Really.

  Except . . . A Oner Agent coming here to examine the gates does make sense.

  "I'll show you some magic." He ran his hands through his hair, shifting pigments outward, darkening his hair, and when he pulled on it, it lengthened, straightened. Maybe a slight morph . . . just focus on the calcium in the bone . . . He squashed his nose. Oww! Bent his ears out. Wide-eyed, Bug started giggling.

  "Der naow. Watcha tink?" He pulled some of the straggling hair forward to hide the line of his eyebrows and cheekbones

  She clapped both hands over her mouth, snorting so hard her eyes watered.

  "I be . . . umm . . . Barney t'stable boy."

  "Barney!" She bolted then, trailing giggles.

  I hope she doesn't broadcast anything. "And anyhow, what are the odds of Hoon turning up here when I've been searching Karista for her for a week and a half?"

  Pyrite, just outside the barn lifted his head and gazed at the long dormer that ran the length of the building—one long row of forty windows. No one ever seemed to notice that the two wings of rooms weren't actually there, on the outside. All done with bubbles, each sealed around one of those windows, and a door into a hall that was in its own bubble. With a room that didn't exist in the real world, in between window and door.

  The horse looked back at him. :: Hoon is looking down at me. ::

  :: Go roll like a plain old ordinary horse. If she'd seen us pop through the corridor, she wouldn't be standing where she could be seen. ::

  I hope.

  Xen walked out and headed for the kitchen door. Walking with his toes pointed out a bit, and slumping just a hair. Not much, but enough that he wasn't so noticeably tall.

  Flare looked out the kitchen door and shook her head.

  Kipp looked over her shoulder and started grinning. "Hey, Barney, you got those stalls clean?"

  A fun time was had by all. Nick became Lord Nicolas, and Kipp, the God of Music. Lady Bug giggled harder than ever and pretended she had a red-with-black-spots cape, and was preparing for the ball. The Purple Haired Wench had to threaten them with no dessert to get her dishes washed. The God of Music lowered himself to serve two guests. Lady Bug took a tray up to the lady, who preferred to dine in her room.

  "That name really needs to stick." Xen peeked through the crack of the door. No sign of his missing Oner. I'm going to have to watch all night.

  Flare nodded. "Yes. Ladybug is an excellent name. At least for now. By the time she's twenty or so, she may be sick and tired of it." She looked him up and down, but didn't say anything about his disguise.

  His nose hurt. How does Grandfather morph into a goat without spending the next day in bed, moaning in pain?

  At midnight, Hoon eased through the front door and started north. Her unnoticeable spell was so strongly held that Xen's eyes watered to keep her in sight. She walked through each gate, the sentries never stirring. Xen followed, watching while she fiddled with a heavy backpack full of electronic equipment.

  She's trying to find another Oner. But she doesn't know if anyone, any of her own people are on any of these worlds. Damn. She really is marooned.

  Except for whoever gave her the radio equipment. Because from what I saw, she got away with the clothes on her back, and damned skimpy clothing, at that. Damn. One of the Oner group got away with equipment, and she's in contact with her, or him. The witch on the cliff? Not that I have any indication that the witch on the cliff is a Oner. Maybe Janic knows.

  Hoon was methodical, and worked her way north, along the west side of the road. She checked the guarded gates, and homed in on the unguarded gates with an electronic device, until she was close enough to see the view through the gate.

  She can't see the glow of the gates. Good.

  She walked a mile north of the Ring World gate before she turned back and started checking the east side of the road. The first gate was easy to find, the far side sported a thick door, braced to keep the oversized fauna out. She stepped cautiously through and unlocked the gate. The sight of distant mammoths seemed to reassure her. She spent half an hour with her machines, before she packed up and headed back down the road. The second gate on the east side was to an empty world. It was dawn when she stepped through.

  And got a reply to her signal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Spring 1391

  Ash, Foothills Province

  Flare felt lost in the crowd of young women. After much prodding from Xen she had asked the Mt. Frost witches to let her sit through the introductory classes for the young girls. Crescent Moons, mostly, but some of the older New Moons as well.

  She wasn't the only visitor. The addition of eleven young women, almost another four Triads, to the seven Triads of the Crescent Moon the Mt. Frost Pyramid bragged of, necessitated the addition of more teachers and split training sessions to the witches' school.

  "Now, when you jumped from New Moon to
Crescent, it was because you were mature enough to consciously and deliberately manipulate magical energy.

  "Everyone, even those without the sourcing genes, uses subconscious magic all the time. Without the power genes, it is weak. With the power genes it is strong, but erratic. With conscious control, it become dependable and predictable. It is both less dangerous and more." Never was lecturing today.

  Lady Rustle's mother, Xen's grandmother.

  "Less dangerous, because we are less likely to accidentally harm someone, more dangerous because we can harm someone deliberately. The intermediate step you will learn while you are a Crescent Moon is channeling. The final step will be bodily awareness. Once you can channel, you will be able to kill. Once you can focus that bodily awareness outside your own body, you will be able to heal. Now, Justice is going to take those of you who can channel off for some specific exercises. The rest of you remain here . . . "

  The pale blonde beside Flare sighed and watched wistfully as eleven witches trooped off with Justice.

  "My mother has suggested rather acidly that six babies would be quite sufficient for the Pyramid to cope with this year, and suggested that the rest of us wait at least two years, and space the babies out just a bit, please. The fact that it makes sense hasn't made me any less horny."

  So far, Flare had sat quietly, soaking it all in, but this had her snickering. "Hi, I'm Flare Valadaut."

  "Heliotrope Trumpdaut. I love my mother, but she's not a terribly good teacher. I always learn more during my trips here than I do the rest of the year at home."

  "Well, I thought I just had one wizard gene, but Xen says I'm collecting power. So I'm apparently some sort of odd wizard, and need some basic lessons. Nil thought I might do better with a couple of weeks of introductory lessons from the witches."

  "Where are you from? Do I know you? Where did you meet Xen?"

  "I'm from Rip Crossing, but I've been doing the cooking in Harry's Tavern for the last, umm, seven months or so."

  "Oh." Heliotrope sighed wistfully. "You've escaped from parental control. And see Xen all the time. Is that your real hair color? Dad says kids have always turned up occasionally with blue and purple hair, but yours is the first I've seen."