by Pam Uphoff
And he could pop through Two East and see what the other Oners were up to. Count heads and vehicles, again. Eavesdrop. I need help. Magical help. Help!
He rotated people in and out of the bubble every three days, although he'd been careful to make the door usable by any of them. He rather thought that reports were going out every night. He did surprisingly little translating. When he talked to the group, they all used the language of the One. Individually they were impressive linguists. As a group they were amazing.
The Oners had a radio in the dungeon, and spoke briefly and at long intervals with someone who was, probably, on the far side of the gate. They reported no luck finding any Earthers, and were ordered to check the Fascia Embassy for clues to the complete loss of personnel. Hoon smirked when she was praised for her information network, and bought a wagon for the Action Team.
Xen got the impression she was glad to see the last of them.
She probably spent the last fifteen years dreaming of going home. And never thought that her own people would think of her as a whore, rather than an agent.
Chapter Twenty-six
Early Summer 1391
Fort Stag, Foothills Province
The following week Garit rode back to Ash. Not that he wanted to disturb the man, but a quick check to make sure the witches hadn't burned him and his bride at the stake . . .
The older women acted like Garit was invisible. A few of the young women gave him thoughtful looks. He paused as an argument erupted out the front door of one of the older rambling houses and into the street.
"I'm running away from home!" A girl who didn't look much above ten slammed the door behind her announcement.
The door snapped open and more women shoved through. Two elderly, half a dozen teen girls, four in the middle, all talking in raised voices.
"Get back here this instant!" A dark woman stomped after her, and stood in the middle of the street as the girl kept walking. "Do you hear me, young lady!"
The young lady was dark enough that she was probably the woman's daughter.
"Nighthawk! Where are you going to go?" A teenager, red haired.
"She's probably headed for Harry's." Another dark witch shrugged and turned back to the house.
Garit eyed the family, they seemed to come with either red hair or very dark complexions . . . Of course, according to Uncle Rufi's tall tales the dark ones would be descendants of the God of Travelers. But I don't recall any particular mention of redheads.
"Good riddance!" The dark woman spun and marched back inside. An old woman waffled, shrugged. The spectators drifted off.
Garit rode on to the Twin Inn and turned Joker over to the stable girl. He strolled around the inn, rather than use the back door. That seemed to be the preferred route of the locals, but he liked to stroll down the side road along the fragrant herb garden.
A pale blonde woman was chatting with Lady Gisele on the stepping stones between street and hut. For a moment Garit thought that Heliotrope had abandoned her purple wardrobe, then the woman turned and eyed him. As beautiful as Heliotrope, but a stronger jaw. No lines or wrinkles, but she lacked the dewy innocence of youth. Her clothes were ordinary, but the suite of tans and browns complemented her tanned complexion and left her blue eyes as a brilliant counterpoint. There was, somehow, an aura of elegance and style about her.
Garit nodded politely. "Good afternoon, Lady Gisele."
The old crone smiled. "Indeed it is. Any day that brings me a puzzle is good."
The blonde frowned down at the woman. "Good day, then." She turned and walked out of the garden. She studied Garit as she let the gate swing shut behind her. "You must be one of the local wizards. Or is mage the right term?"
"Oh . . ." Well Uncle Rufi does say the royal men have something akin to the mage gene. "Mage, of some sort. By your accent, you're not one of the local witches."
"I started in Auralia, and have been shifting north for, oh, I'm afraid it's into the decades, now."
"Really?" Garit raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You must have been very young when you left Auralia."
She laughed, a delightfully throaty sound. "You mages are so charming. And this village so dangerous. Come join me for a drink."
They chatted for hours, in and out of bed, and it was only after she'd left that Garit wondered why he'd talked so much about his patrols.
***
Xen did a double take, when he spotted the girl in the kitchen. "Nighthawk! Coming to earn some money?"
The girl looked away. Looked down. Mumbled. "I'm running away from home. I had a fight with my mom, and Grandmother, and all my aunts, and cousins, and . . . everyone."
"Ah. Did a good job of it, eh?"
A faint smile, but a tear trickled down her cheek.
"Well, then you headed straight for Harry's. Very sensible of you . . . No?"
"I came because everyone says you live here." She eyed him, looking frightened. "Are you really my father?"
"Yes. I didn't know you knew." He kept his voice gentle, and didn't elaborate on how that had happened. "Witches tend to not want to share children. I've never been allowed to be your father." I haven't a clue how to be one. I think I'd better learn fast! "May I give it a try?"
This time it was a real smile, and even more tears. He bent awkwardly and hugged her. She fluttered uncertainly and almost hugged him back. Then hustled back to the sink and started drying dishes.
Flare had been pretending to not overhear them. Now she clattered pans. "When you've got the time, I need more wood. And think about hunting. Turkeys, or deer, would be a nice change."
Ladybug, up to her elbows in suds, hissed at Nighthawk. "Your dad! Xen? You are so lucky! My dad's horrible."
"We both ran away from him." Nick was sorting Harry's eccentric collection of eating utensils. Witches' practice pieces, most of them, so totally unmatched in size and design. Xen had made a few of them himself, when learning how to shape metal.
"That was after he threw Nick out the window."
"As soon as I could walk again, we went." Nick looked down at his feet. "I didn't actually run. My leg was broke, and it hurt, until Xen fixed it."
Nighthawk heaved a deep sigh. "I'm the youngest one. There's five teenagers, and six older women, and the teenagers all want babies, but they hate me, so I think they'll be horrible mothers, and I told them that. Old Gods, they all started screaming at me about that!" She shot a glance toward Xen. "At least I've got a nice father."
He nodded. "You may have to train me. But I'll try to be a good dad. I'll try to deserve you."
***
The summer sunshine was ideal for training budding wizards. Xen held magic classes in the courtyard during the slack period between lunch and dinner.
"Kipp, you are getting strong, fast. Your shields aren't hard enough, yet, to be dangerous, but they will be soon." Xen could see the bafflement on the man's face. "The thin sheet telekinesis effect is the same one I use for cutting hay and firewood. It is used in combat. Think of it like an amazingly thin blade. Still strong, and long, with a wide sweep to it. Once you are strong enough, that shield of yours will be able to cut off your toes if you've got it too close to your feet. If it's too wide, you could slice up someone standing near you." Xen nodded toward Nick, who skittered further away.
Despite not having power genes, Nick and Ladybug were determined to learn a little bit of magic. Nighthawk was probably a year older than Nick and two or three years younger than Ladybug. She seemed happy to have other kids around.
Xen had winced a few times, when he caught her looking surprised when Ladybug said something nice. Maybe I ought to have zapped her mother. Or . . . well, what about the other Ash kids? Surely there are some nice girls about her age?
He used a few of the witches' meditations and charms, but Nighthawk had his X chromosome, so she also had the wizard gene. She'd picked up the basics of the wizard's training quickly. But right now, Kipp was looking dubiously as his hands.
"I could k
ill someone? Just by putting up a shield?"
"Yep. That's one reason I want you to keep using your hands to control its position. Less . . . tendency to be too large, small, near or far." Xen grinned. "Okay, I won't push you into making another one right now. Let's all collect power . . . " He juggled a fireball—keep the students impressed—and turned at the sound of hooves on the courtyard's brick paving.
Rufi rode out of the corridor on a horse so big and black he just had to be one of Jet's foals. The Great Grand waved casually. "Afternoon, Xen. Don't mind us, we're just practicing fast troop movements."
Another horse head poked out of the side of the barn, with the rest of the horse and its alarmed rider following quickly. Then more officers, in a rush.
Xen retreated with the others, to give them room.
"And that, gentlemen, is what you'll need to introduce your troops to. All of them. In an emergency, I want to be able to call up any and all of the troops stationed anywhere. Come along, I'll show you where the gates are, and which is which."
Xen counted three generals and four colonels in the group, each with an entourage of junior officers. They clattered off for the tour, and Xen turned his attention back to his lessons.
Flare was looking worried. "Will they want an early dinner? I ought to . . . "
Xen snickered. "Check your slowly roasting roasts? Throw your unrisen rolls in the oven? There's plenty of time; they won't be right back, and you can always start them off with appetizers while you throw a salad or soup together and pretend this is a hoity toity Karista restaurant that wouldn't dream of serving a meal of less than five courses."
"Soup takes time, you country bumpkin." Flare huffed uncertainly but held out her hands and tried, again, to strangle sunlight.
"That's Master Country Bumpkin when a student addresses her teacher, thank you very much."
Ladybug giggled, and Kipp startled himself with a double handful of power. He tried to drop it, then shook his glowing hands.
"Kneel down and put them on the ground." Xen suggested, and watched to be sure the power drained away. Kipp is going to be powerful, once he's had both training and experience.
More hooves on pavement. Rufi was back. " . . . leave you to drill your people. Have fun, gentlemen." He aimed his horse at the wall with a casual wave.
The three generals exchanged exasperated glances, then surveyed the area.
"We'll have to keep everyone moving, right out onto the road. So we don't block up the entrance."
The others nodded.
One of the colonels frowned over at them. Xen was bouncing a ball of light . . .
"Sleight of hand," another officer growled. A captain, looking irritated.
Rufi's knocked them out of their comfy routines, and they don't much like it.
The colonel nodded. "I've seen better at the Summer Fair. Hey you! Do you juggle?"
Xen absorbed his fireball. "Not often, sir."
"Good, because you need a ball, or flaming torches or something." He turned his horse away. "Right, let's go fetch some people. I think I'll do this a squad at a time . . ." His horse hesitated, then stuck a cautious nose into the corridor, then hopped through.
The captain deliberately steered his horse wide. The kids hopped out of the way, Flare backed away . . .
"I hate arrogant assholes." Xen kept his eyes raised to the sky. Ignored the sidestepping horse until it came within elbow reach. A firm thump on the flank, and the horse shifted to avoid him.
The captain jerked the reins, backing the horse . . . Xen stepped aside and with a carefully controlled slice severed the cinch.
The captain felt the saddle slip and was quick enough to drop his stirrups and swing off the horse's back before the saddle hit the ground. His eyes traveled from the straight cut across the cinch to Xen. Narrow and angry.
"Listen you yokel. Pulling a knife on an officer of the Army could easily be the last mistake you make in this life."
Xen looked wide-eyed at him at him. "But I was back behind your horse. And I don't have a knife. Well I do, but it's in its sheath where it belongs, up in my room. Well, and there's the other down my boot. But I'm sure you would have noticed me drawing it, since you were being so careful to make sure your horse stepped on my poor little toesies." He let his voice go chilly. "Not to mention deliberately aiming your mount at children."
"Why you insolent little . . ."
"Big." Xen interrupted.
"Shit. You are about to learn a lesson in manners." He drew his sword.
"Oh, good grief. Are you challenging me to a duel? Shall I go fetch my sword?"
"I don't duel low class . . . "
"Henry." One of the Colonels sounded steamed. "He's unarmed, for all practical purposes. You hurt him, there could be charges."
Xen shook his head. "I should have kept my own attitude in check. I apologize." He tried hard to smile. Suspected it wasn't a success. "Despite the nasty trick with the kids."
The Captain showed his teeth. "It's a bit late for that. Go fetch your sword, if you're not a coward."
"I'll be right back." Xen stalked into the barn and climbed the ladder into the loft. Stripped off boots, pants and shirt, and donned his uniform. He walked back out, sword belt over his shoulder as he buttoned up the uniform.
The officers exchanged startled glances.
"Hi. I'm Lieutenant Xen Wolfson, Kings Own, Intel. And may I know the name of the gentleman I have so affronted that trying to step on my toesies seemed like a good idea?"
"What the . . . Lieutenant . . . " The colonel sounded more steamed than the captain, now.
"You can send all complaints to Colonel Janic, sir. I'm sure he'll be impressed the way you leaped to the conclusion that a tavern and inn with no village to bring it custom, beyond a merchant passing through once a week or so, right in the middle of a batch of dimensional gates to who knows where, and a fort ten miles away that was only built five years ago . . . was bound to be stuffed full of observers ready to pretend to be harmless natives so as to analyze any people visiting from very far away." He buckled his sword belt and eyed the still anonymous captain. "So how about I replace your cinch, and we can both get back to work."
"How about I beat the shit out of you?" The captain swung his sword, blade turned so the flat would hit Xen's cheek . . .
Xen stepped out of reach.
And back and back as the captain thrust, swung, followed Xen around the yard, with his face getting redder by the minute.
Xen finally drew his sword. The poor fool was clearly used to stylistic sparring, and fighting from horseback.
Xen stepped with a quick, exact slash, stepped back as the captain tried to follow, stumbled as his pants slid. Glanced down and saw his neatly cut belt. Grabbed his pants and pulled them up . . .
Xen waited politely, sword at low guard.
The captain crabbed forward.
The colonel shook his head. "Captain. Quit. I seem to recall the name Wolfson has several times graced the top swordmen's list on the training grounds. Put your sword up and get on your damned horse. We are on duty, as Lieutenant Wolfson also ought to be." His volume was worthy of a drill sergeant.
The captain hesitated. Straightened and slammed his sword home.
Xen sheathed his own, and circled around to the barn. Found a girth and walked back to offer it to the captain.
Who hissed a bit, but took it.
Xen walked back into the Tavern, shooing the kids ahead of him. Waiting for Flare and Kipp before he stepped through the door.
He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I think I just set a bad example of keeping a cool head and not looking for a fight."
Kipp snorted and looked him up and down. "I figured you were ex-army. I ought to have thought—I know how few customers Harry gets through here. Is he a general or something?" He eyed Flare uncertainly. "Stuffed full of observers, eh?"
Nighthawk snickered. "Harry's the God of Travelers."
Kipp sighed. "You lot are absolutely in
sane jokers."
Xen was careful to avoid, as much as possible, the frequent intrusion of troops through his corridor. He was delighted to see the troops treat everyone politely. Word had probably gotten around about the Tavern staff not being . . . ordinary. After a few months, the practice runs tapered off, and life returned to near normal.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Mid-summer 1391
Fort Stag, Foothills Province
Garit eyed the ten young men and cringed, inwardly. Had he looked so arrogantly and obviously a waste of time when he was on his rotation?
What had his Colonel done to deserve Rebo?
It was good to see Rebo again, though. Really. Honest. And I hope it stays that way. His oldest brother's second child, Heir to the Crown after his father. But serving with him was likely to be awkward. The Crown Prince wasn't known for obeying orders, and "no" wasn't well received. Hopefully he's outgrown his worst behavior.
"Welcome to Fort Stag." Old Gods. Who'd have thought he'd ever find himself in this role? "We'll be splitting you up among the three patrol companies and the engineering company. As you'll be here for such a short time, you will be acting as aides to the officers you are assigned to." And if I'd realized that Rebo was coming I'd have rigged the assignments. "Pick a sheet, and that'll be your starting assignment. We'll change them around in two months so none of you eager young men are stuck working for the Quartermaster the whole six months." The colonel was the only officer without his name in the pot. Garit had stuck his in, in hopes of getting himself more time in the field.
He strolled through the group letting them grab the folded papers, then grabbed his clip board and noted the results. Rebo was assigned to the first Company, and would be patrolling mostly up in the mountain range. Good. Long days in the saddle, long trips away from the colonel, whose career he could damage. So maybe this wasn't all bad.
He assigned them quarters near their captains and sent them off. "Dinner in one hour. You'll hear the bell." Then he tracked down Captain Robanik.