by Pam Uphoff
The final tally was a hundred and twenty-two dead and fifteen captured. No more than four could have escaped. Tanner sent more squads up into the hills to try to track them.
Even his troops were a bit askance at the butchery in the village. The 'witches' had slashed the bodies quite thoroughly, and burned others. Then claimed it was magic. Tanner smiled grimly and didn't say a thing about the impropriety of desecrating dead bodies. Their ridiculous reputation helped keep bandits away most of the time. He was more than willing to assist in perpetuating it. They'd been incredibly lucky, only a few serious injuries, and no deaths at all among the villagers.
Of course, the Land Grant Holder on that incredible horse just might have had something to do with the body count. And those haulers appeared to have been in the thick of it. The storekeeper, the innkeeper, the old harness maker, the banker; they'd all grabbed weapons and fought. Even the fancy mayor had blood on his pretty sword. And to be honest, bandits dead at his feet, and a nasty slice down his leg. He's tougher than I'd thought, from his lace and plumes.
But we'll all pretend it was magic. Spells, not truly impressive archery. Witches. Beware the Village of Witches!
He made sure the prisoners saw the state of the bodies. Of course, they'd all seen their own bits of the fight. They knew they'd been defeated by the villagers, not the soldiers. He'd take them to Wallenton where they'd be tried. They'd have just enough time to spread Ash's newly enhanced reputation before the hangman removed them from any possible return to banditry.
***
Colonel Trick took Garit along to report, in person, to General Rufi.
Poor man probably needs a Native Guide. Garit grinned a little, and with a few quick exchanges with the guards, tracked his Uncle down in the Intel offices.
General Rufi spotted them, and raised his eyebrows in question.
Garit buffed his nails ostentatiously and raised his nose. Failed to stifle a grin. "We have had an encounter with what might have been the Gold Gang. Hung the last of them in Wallenton four days ago."
They were promptly hauled up a floor and into a workroom. There were piles of papers, descriptions of the Gold Gang from past encounters. A number of men showed up, to help them compare their descriptions to the older observations. The Mayor's roll of photographic film was taken away for developing.
While the general looked over their shoulders, Garit edged back and looked around for any familiar faces. Apart from a few guards and, of course, Colonel Janic, there wasn't anyone he knew.
He caught Janic's eye and shrugged. "Mind you, I'm not surprised to not find Xen sitting at a desk, but . . . " He shrugged.
Janic huffed out an irritated breath. "I sent him off to Officers school, after Rebo got into that tangle with Xen's low life friends. I'm just as glad you're away from those bad influences."
Garit blinked. "Umm . . . actually, Xen's a good influence."
"Best of a bad lot, perhaps. His whole culture is sick. I don't know enough about his specific family to know if, or rather, how many, are serious security risks. I know we expect the young lords on their rotations to be arrogant and bad at following orders, but the ones we recruit ought to be better."
Garit huffed in furious disbelief. And somehow found himself growling at the head of the King's Intel Division. "I realize, sir, that it is not my place to criticize a superior officer, especially one so high in General Rufi's staff. But I believe you are badly mistaken in your estimation of Xen Wolfson. And as for his specific family, perhaps you should investigate his great grandfather Rufi Negue. If Xen had a snobby bone in his body, you'd be calling him Prince Xen. Sir!" Garit folded his arms and glared.
Colonel Janic rocked back on his heels. "Lieutenant Negue . . . Thank you for your opinion. Dismissed."
Garit saluted and stalked back to read the various descriptions and sketches of the Gold Gang. He pulled out a picture. "This one looks familiar." He sorted out more possibilities.
A young private trotted in with damp prints of the grisly remains. They laid them out and started trying to match them to descriptions and drawings. There were enough that were good enough to have Rufi grinning nastily.
Garit pulled out a drawing of a blonde woman. Click. "Damn. She was in Ash . . . three or four months ago." He rubbed his forehead at a sudden pain. Did I talk to her?
Tanner took the picture and frowned. "Yes. I saw her too. Azure said she was a foreign witch . . . I ought to have thought of those stories about the Gold Gang's golden girl . . . except she's much too young, those rumors have been circulating since I was a boy."
Garit nodded. "And there were no women with the gang we dealt with. I'd have expected some camp followers . . . maybe we need to try to back track them."
"Find any base camp, or fortification." Trick bit his lip.
Rufi glanced over at them. "We thought we had finished the Gold Gang twice before. And they always came back. It would be nice if this time there were no survivors to rebuild from."
Chapter Thirty-six
Winter Solstice 1392
Karista, Kingdom of the West
"I told them not to go there. I told them!"
Xen watched as the blonde woman paced. His timing, checking on the Post Head, had been fortunate. It wasn't that he didn't like the college, but he had trouble letting go of the problem with the Oners. And Pyrite needed the exercise. So he rode out every afternoon . . . and just took a quick look, here and there.
He'd had to sneak to get to the Crossroads, to check on Nighthawk, and the others. It was infuriating. I ought to check through the gate, next time I sneak past Hattie. But I was ordered to stay away from the gates. Even a social visit every other month is pushing it. I really hate trying to play by the rules. And I have no idea how to dig myself out of this hole. I don't understand what sort of hole it is. Am I good enough to train as an officer, or being kept out of the field so I don't do something awful. Define awful, please? It wasn't my orgy. I just happened to know everyone there.
Hoon's house was well covered, so Xen had taken to occasionally checking the Post Head. He'd been about to leave when the woman had stormed in. The same pale blonde from the desert ambush, four years ago. The Post Head had called her Rior. The Oner Princess in the report. The one who'd married the Amma, three decades ago.
"What the One Hell is wrong with men?" She glared at the Post Head. "Avoid that place, no matter what, I told them. Over and over. But they kept looking at it. And when they got enough men they actually thought they could take it."
Her laugh was bitter.
The Post Head leaned away from her, and looked like he'd like to bolt. "Smart of you to leave, at that point. I . . . didn't realize you knew I was here."
"I found you a decade ago. By then I didn't give a damn. You seemed to be as marooned as I was." The blonde waved a dismissive arm. "Yes. I know when to abandon fools." Her sneer broadened into a near-grin as the man tried to decide if he was one of the fools she was referring to. "I could shield the gang from being tracked by the cavalry—barely, there were a couple of the officers with some real magical potential—but against a couple hundred trained magicians? Not a hope." She heaved a deep breath and finally relaxed. "So when they decided it was time to raid a village full of witches, I left. One Damn them."
"Err, I have some news as well . . . " He gulped as her attention sheared back to him. "Do you recall Hoon? One of the other Princesses assigned here to assist you?"
"Hoon? One yes I remember her. Hardly an assistant. She was a dancer, a cold blooded assassin. Ha! My dear husband did me a favor, handing me over to his cousin, just then. Hoon would have made sure I 'killed myself in remorse.' What a joke. And by the time I got back to Fascia, the Earthers were running the place." She dropped into a chair, and leaned toward the Post Head. "So. What is dear Hoon doing now?"
"She's running a house of ill repute, gathering intelligence, and has made contact with Home."
A long silence. The blonde woman leaned back in the shabby
chair.
"Home."
"The Earthers used a remote area for testing some new gate tech. They now have permanent, or at any rate, long term stable gates. One of the gates connected to an empty world of ours."
She cocked her head, and her eyes unfocused as she thought. "Do you know . . . I don't think of the One World as home, anymore."
The Post Head sat up indignantly. "Princess Rior!"
She smiled as she slid out of the chair and leaned over him.
Bits of aura showed. Sparked, snapped . . . Then the man slumped.
Princess Rior turned away. "No, I think I like it here. Even if I will have to rebuild my gang from scratch. Again. I came to warn you of the strength of their power, and the location of that village. But I think I won't bother. Sleep well, little man, and forget you ever saw me." She walked out the door.
Xen floundered out of his bubble and frowned at the empty street.
He flipped a mental coin and headed south. But couldn't find the woman.
So, we've identified the magician who's helping the Gold Gang—but it sounds like they had a falling out. Which allowed us to eliminate the rest of them.
Although . . . it almost sounded like she was running the show, and had gone through several gangs. I wonder how many times we've hung "Auchel Ibram" . . . and she's just gone out and recruited a new man to take on the role?
He blinked in sudden alarm. Did she just say bandits attacked a village full of witches? He ran to where he'd left Pyrite and headed for Ash.
***
Not that Ash needed him. Between the archery training, and sword drill, and magic, the bandits hadn't had a chance in hell. There were nearly as many witches as bandits, plus Dydit and Nil had been in the Twin Inn, schmoozing with Romeau and someone had called the God of War.
They really ought to have listened to Rior.
Xen looked around, shrugged, and headed back to Karista and classes.
He sent a report about Rior and the post head to Colonel Janic, but didn't speak to him.
He tried to explain the situation to Quicksilver when he ran into her on campus.
"I'm the most obvious member of the magical community. If I'd recoiled in horror and said I didn't screw any of the women, would someone have taken that as meaning that I didn't care what happened to them? That the magical community didn't care? Rufi's only human. He'd just realized that a god has been affecting the Crown Heir for years, and just tried a major power grab. Could he have lost his temper and gone for a nasty but complete solution to the mess? I don't know. Dad sure snatched him out of there fast enough!"
Quicksilver rolled her eyes. "What he might have ordered and what actually happened would have been . . . different. I know they're young, but that bunch of magicians would have macerated and expectorated your army buddies. And if Rufi's men had killed one of the witches first? I really don't want to think about what Mother might have done to the people who killed Whoop or Verse's kid. Or any of the other girls from Rip. Good grief, I went to school with them all."
Please tell me education doesn't macerate and expectorate everyone's vocabulary like that, smart girl! "Mother wouldn't hurt the Great Grand."
Quicksilver raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That will, luckily, be forever unknown. Dad saw to that. Pity you were the handiest person to kick." She glanced around the manicured lawns and stately buildings. "Mind you, I'm not going to let you live down calling being sent to college a punishment . . . "
"It's not punishment, not really. It's not like I disobeyed an order . . ."
"You just obeyed someone else, right in front of your immediate superior. A very large, powerful, scary someone who was being high handed and upsetting that immediate superior at the time. Got it."
Twice he was dragged out to examine Prince Rebo, and assure his minder—and the prince, himself—that Rebo had no residual spells on him. "You deflowered a witch, it probably jolted your ego a bit."
"Wait, you mean I'm going to be like this all the time? Things just don't seem to matter any more."
"What kind of things?" Xen tried to look casual.
"Well, sex isn't as fun. Beating Hugo to women, keeping score, why bother. I feel like half a man, not chasing women. Sometimes I'm not even attracted. I want something else. That orgy was the best time I've ever had, and now I don't know what I want."
Crown Prince Rolo snorted. "Oh. I see the problem. You've gone and finally grown up. Be careful, or your Grandfather may start giving you some serious duties."
Xen sighed. "At least that disgraceful scene in Rip Crossing will have one good outcome. I've never heard of an orgy that descended to rape like that."
The Prince winced. "I paid . . . "
Xen rubbed his temples. "So I heard. The Arch Wizard has meted out appropriate punishment to Eternal and Ricardo." Will he support his friends or toss them?
The Prince looked up quickly. "I'm the responsible party, not Ricardo."
"Yes. But Master Nil is not pleased with their use of magic. I don't know about Ricardo, but the other three will think before they do something so venal again."
Rebo squirmed. "They aren't going to hurt Ricardo are they? I mean, it's my fault."
General Rufi scowled. "Ricardo? Your old friend? I thought you'd reformed. I wish I'd recognized him."
Rebo scowled back. "I'm just as glad you didn't. You'd have killed him, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. Keep him safe—never see him again. Or Eden."
"Stupid Bitch. I found a lawyer and divorced her."
"What!" Rufi snapped to his feet. "You blithering idiot! Are you trying to force us to acknowledge that farce as a legal marriage? It won't work. The Council will declare it to have been invalid." His showed his teeth is something very unlike a smile. "Unless you want to pay her alimony."
Rebo glared. "I'll do whatever I damn well please. The more you try to force me, the worse I'm going to be. Trust me for that!" He stomped out.
Xen edged toward the door, hoping to escape the rest of the family argument.
Rufi sat down with a huff. "I wouldn't be so furious—if doing this same thing hadn't backfired on us so spectacularly, with Leano and his Traveler Bride. I'd dearly love for Fossi to be a legitimately born prince. Now."
Rolo sat up and frowned. "Wait, Dad married Fossi's mother?"
Rufi waved a hand. "Some stupid vows and jumping over a bonfire and such. They were within the jurisdiction of Havwee, so there was no problem with the 'in accordance with local custom' provisions of the Charter."
"Ah. Bonfire weddings. Those are fun to watch, amazing how few bridal dresses catch on fire." Xen remembered one that had gone spectacularly wrong . . . "I suspect that's why the collective subconscious was so sure you were the Crown, not the Spear, sir." Local custom . . . the collective subconscious must define "local" differently than the government. He half bowed to Rolo. Hesitated. I tossed a spell on all the women at that orgy, to kill all the sperm cells. But if she ovulated before we got there, well, the spell would have ignored a fertilized ova.
Rufi snorted. "Damn, I miss Selano. I wonder whatever became of that detector he rigged up?"
Xen bit his lip. All the king's family had a rare variety of the Mage Y. Not exactly non-functional—he suspected it had to do with their charisma. They'd found Fossi, by testing for it. They could find any number of bastard sons, grandsons, great great . . . from the straight male line. But how many conceived within a marriage that the collective subconscious considered "real" no matter what annulment declarations the Council comes up with? Should I check to see if Eden is pregnant? Or not, so as to not call any more attention to her? Although I suspect Rufi knows already.
And then there's Rebo.
Rebo's power gene has changed a bit, mutated spontaneously when he was conceived. Or before. The gene isn't quite the same as an Arbolian Priest's, but it's close. I wonder if I could get him to Lady Gisele. Or my mother. And if they'd change his mage gene back to the royal family's gene, without his consent.
Had Rebo gotten power, some charge from sex? Xen frowned a bit. Or did he get a charge from deflowering a virgin witch?
Xen had heard there was a flash of power the man got when he popped one. Everyone knew it was a crude but effective way to break a spell. Had Rebo gotten more than that? There had been two other young witches there. Grape and Hazel were nineteen, and they hadn't seemed very experienced when he'd talked to them. Had Rebo deflowered them as well as Eden? That would have to be some sort of a record. Xen decided he wasn't going to mention the possibility to Rebo. Nil was the one he needed to talk to about it. Rebo could get himself killed, looking for virgin witches to deflower.
Next time I have enough time to get to Ash.
And I suppose I ought to get permission to stick my nose into it. Hell. What am I doing in the Army? What would I do out of the Army? Become just one more misbehaving Rip Crossing wizard?
No, not that. But what?
Chapter Thirty-seven
Winter 1392
Karista, Kingdom of the West
"Everyone says you're a witch."
Quicksilver looked up from her books and studied the young woman in front of her. Maybe eighteen, pregnant, frantic. An untrained witch, leaking darting panicky thoughts all over the place. "Yes. I am. So are you, but you know that, don't you?"
"Someone said." Lips pressed together, eyes shone with unshed tears. "I don't know what to do. They won't even let me speak to Rebo." Her hands clutched her belly. "They claim this isn't his child, and I don't know, because of the spell. The illusion. Everyone looked like Rebo or me, and I was drunk and, and." She dragged herself to a halt, took two deep breaths for control. "And my father's abandoned me."
"Do you have a legal advisor? And you need a financial one as well, I suspect."
"I have the ones they gave me. And they said I'd better be happy about it. I have this tiny income. I can't even pay the servants' salaries. They tell me to open Father's gallery, and then I'll have plenty, but they don't seem to understand that an art gallery can't be kept in an office."