by Pam Uphoff
"Damn. I think they've ducked out the back door." Garit whistled up a quick assault. The ladders were crude but serviceable, the men going over the top met no resistance.
"Right. Captain Brewster, you're in charge here. Captain Kaster, let's go find this route through the mine."
They found the mine's eastern entrance about where they'd figured, and easy to find by following the horse manure . . . until that led them to a deep shaft. Xen says you can't feel illusions. Garit poked with a short lance, but the hole was definitely there. He backtracked, tapping the walls until he stuck his hand through a wall. He probed carefully and led the way through.
Garit made them take it slow and check for traps, but the gang had been in too much of a hurry to even cut the supporting timbers. The single illusion was the only trick they'd left behind.
They followed the bandits' trail through rough territory but never managed to close with them. The trail climbed around one of the highest peaks, and on the far side led under a pile of ice and rock, an avalanche caused by the summertime melting around the edges of the permanent snow and ice of the high peak.
***
Rior eyed the landslide and nodded in satisfaction. "That will stop them." She turned and mounted the pale ugly horse Grigor was holding for her. Stupid pandering to superstitions. It really doesn't matter what color of horse I ride. This, this washed out palomino thing is a graceless klutz. I need to find a better horse.
She looked ahead, where a bend in the deer track they were following gave her a glimpse of the head of the column. And it's about time for a new figurehead. This "Auchel Ibrah" is getting over confident. The gang is too large; the authorities are determined to find us . . . and there were magicians with them. The man had barely any training. But that woman . . . I was very glad of the distance between us. And glad we were ready to leave.
***
"I suppose it's too much to hope they're under all that." Garit scowled at the impassable loose pile. "Scouts out, find us a route around, if you can. Sergeant Hash? Send some people out carefully to survey this, I want to know if there's any sign anyone was caught in it."
"Yes, sir."
There was not a single body of man nor horse to be found, and one man skidded through the treacherously loose debris to find plenty of hoofprints on the continuation of the trail on the far side. The scouts couldn't find a route around the horses could take, and they finally turned back. The return trip was shortened when Q caught up with them and established a corridor back to the mining camp.
Captain Brewster had cleaned the fortifications. "I searched. They either took their wounded with them or killed them so they couldn't be questioned."
So Garit had solid quarters to organize his fiasco from, and after sending a report, await new orders in. As he had feared, they were recalled to Karista.
"Damn, but I would have liked to have gotten them all. We may have gotten over half their men, but I doubt we got their leaders. So this won't hamper them much." He unloaded his frustration in Quicksilver's presence, not his officers.
She wasn't bothered by it. Too powerful to be intimidated by male ire. I have to get her on my side, she's too dangerous to me otherwise.
"I suppose they're all the way across in the New Lands by now. Maybe we need some unofficial corridors, so we can cut them off."
Garit sighed, and shook off his anger. "Next time. So—these spells on me. What about them?"
"They are such an odd mess, so contradictory and not anything that could seriously harm you. Lady Gisele wondered if a witch, practicing potion making, didn't just dump all the leftovers together, and then forget to break them down. They're very strong—well advanced, so I do think Teri is the likely witch. Maybe someone got ahold of her magic garbage pail and didn't realize how dangerous it was. Do you recall drinking anything unusual, or with questionable provenance in the month before your crossed the desert?"
"Garbage pail, umm, I shared a jug of something back in Three Rivers, nasty stuff, like milk and honey and brandy."
"That was probably it. Spells need energy, and they can get it from several sources. Any kind of alcohol or sweet stuff like syrup or honey. Milk will work too, but sours if there isn't a preservation spell on it."
"So . . . apart from the magic genes, what else was in there?"
"One spell to reactivate your bones growth plates. You may get a bit taller."
"Is that why I'm kind of achy and my boots are tight?"
"Oh. I didn't think of the feet. Ouch! Yes. There was a spell to turn a female into a male, it didn't have a place to start properly, but I removed it three days ago."
"Thank you." He caught her hand and kissed it. "The very idea gives me the chills." He turned it over and kissed her palm. She looked surprised and swallowed before continuing.
"There was a jumble of spells that adjusted various glands outputs, I'm not sure what the mixture as a whole will produce. Aggression or ambition? Paranoia or panic? You need to pay attention to your moods, analyze any differences. Everything should return to normal in, well, probably less than a year."
Garit considered his thoughts about Xen and nodded. "Good to hear that."
"There were about a dozen spells to turn your hair every color imaginable. Umm, it looks like it's growing in mostly brown, but there are some blonde patches.
"Two eye color spells, one to turn brown eyes blue, one to turn brown eyes green. Since your eyes started out blue there wasn't much for them to grip, but you do look like you have some green streaks. I don't know if they've always been there or not. Three skin color spells. If you find any odd colored patches, I can fix them. Your face looks fine."
"Well, that doesn't sound too bad. How about the hair color? Can you get it back to blonde?"
"No problem. I’ll lighten up the brown patches a bit, but I don’t want to go overboard and make it all fall out again. I'll finish it in a couple of weeks." She ran her hands through his hair, rubbing a few spots. Even Q was sensual giving a scalp massage. As her hands left him, he leaned forward and kissed her.
"Maybe you should check all my skin."
Chapter Five
Late Fall 1397
Rip Crossing, Section Nine, Desolation Territory
Vinz minced painfully into Rip Crossing, and leaned on the doorway of the oversized inn in dismay. It was quite obviously empty.
The pups whined at him, worried. Invisible, the black and gray one, sniffed and walked into the Inn to explore.
The red one he always seemed to trip over circled around, nose in the air, and trotted off. He whistled. "Not down there, Trip. The lizards will get you."
"Yeah, C'mon in and we'll shut the door."
Vinz jumped at the cheerful voice behind him.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm Orion, more or less the proprietor here."
Vinz shoved off the doorway and followed Trip inside. "I don't suppose there's any sort of herbalist around here? My guts have just been screaming in pain the whole last month."
"I'll get Ask to come out. She is about the second best healer in the World." The young man propped him up and hauled him across an empty lobby to the nearest room. "Here, lay down and I'll pop through the gate for her. Err, sorry, I'll do sheets and blankets and all in a bit."
The bare mattress was pure heaven. He tried to relax, told his guts someone would come and fix them and they could stop screaming at him now. They didn't listen, but time passed and a lady walked in. She looked to be in her thirties with brown hair and he winced. Well, a healer of any age or gender was going to be just as appalled.
"So, young man, what's the problem?"
"Hopefully not my appendix."
"Hmm, Okay, let's take a poke at it."
He reluctantly unbuttoned his pants. "I, err, umm, Auralians, err . . . "
"Hmm, and someone gave you some healing wine without warning you that regrowing your testicles was painful?"
"What?" He craned his neck . . . "Old Gods! I've got a prick
!"
"How long has it been since you peed?" She pinched his skin. "Dehydrated. I'm surprised you didn't kill yourself. And no wonder every thing's taking so long. The wine can't work when you're treating yourself like this." She stuck her head out the door. "A pitcher of water and a glass, Orion."
"I've got a prick."
"Yes, and your testicles have to move from where they grow down to where they belong, which is painful. Let's see. This is a muscle relaxant, and this will dull the pain, and this will boost things along. You might want to head down the hallway and soak in the hot springs, nice and warm and relaxing." She turned and took the water and glass from Orion. "I want you to very slowly sip a glass of water every hour all the rest of today. Orion, no food for him, no salty liquids, milk or alcohol until I come back and check on him. Keep reminding him to drink water."
He blinked at her in disbelief, then back down at himself. "I've got a prick."
She chuckled. "All you need is a girlfriend, eh?"
Inky.
"Not to worry. I know right where to find one." He laid back and started grinning.
The lady snorted. "You'll be fine. Once you've had two glasses of water, you can take the pain killer. You can start the other two tomorrow. Don't take so much that you fall asleep and drown in the hotspring. I'll stop by in a few hours, and again tomorrow to see how you're doing, but I suspect you're fine."
Better than "fine."
***
"Hey, Orion? Is there anyone around who can run a message down to Farofo?"
Vinz was feeling better mentally, but physically he just wasn't ready to go any more than about twenty steps from that marvelous hot pool.
"Good timing, a buddy of mine is here." Orion stuck his head back out the door. "Hey, Kevi? Can you pop down to Farofo?"
The answer was affirmative, and Vinz pulled his survey notes out of his pack and bit his lip over the note. The eagle-eyed Miss Glory Henso, aged seventy-nine, pretty much ran the company. But someone might need him.
Miss Henso,
I'm laid up for a few weeks in Rip Crossing, should anyone need me.
He chewed his lip nervously. Just because he was getting all his parts back didn't mean he had to be an idiot.
Engage someone in Karista to collect information on a young woman named Inky Trumpdaut. About twenty, tall, black hair. Her father has recently purchased a grant in Desolation.
Vinz Laughlier
He bundled it all up and gave directions and money to the young man who showed up for the packet.
I can't believe I'm checking up on Inky. But that whole village was so strange.
***
Mogan Leon walked into the pool room four days later.
"Old Gods, Boss, what did you do to yourself? The Sisters from Hell work you over?" Invisible and Trip scooted through the door behind him, wagging happily.
Vinz sat up straighter. "Hey Mogan. Heat stroke, dehydration and . . . stuff. Who are the Sisters from Hell?" And why is this visit from my head of security giving me a sinking feeling?
"Inky Trumpdaut and her sisters. Nobody's quite sure where the actual family leaves off and the Sisters of the Moon starts. She's one of Karista's witches. Her mother is Lady Trump, the head of the Pyramid, and her father is one of the Old Gods."
"Nnnnggg." Witches. Gods. Magic . . . healing.
"All right. Start with the father."
"The God of Just Deserts. Michael Hell. For a mile all around him, people seem to get pretty much what they deserve. His dogs regularly piss on people, poop where it's guaranteed to be stepped on, occasionally knock an obnoxious jerk over and hump him. People spill things, trip, accidentally blurt out what they are thinking and so forth. But last year he went on a flat out rampage. His magical influence is generally believed to have caused eight murders and twice that number of accidental deaths. His Hell Hounds bit several people, some badly, killed some other dogs. It cost him a bundle to deal with the legalities. Only the dog attacks were provable, though." He ran a hand over his bald scalp.
Trip licked Vinz's face and slipped and fell in the pool. Vinz heaved him out, and ducked underwater as he shook. When he resurfaced, Mogan was on the far side of the pool.
"Hell Hounds look a bit like those two, from what I've heard. The kid out there said they were yours."
"They followed me home, Mom. Can I keep them? Now, what about Inky?"
"Well, the Pyramid is discreet about it, but the witches don't generally marry, and everyone knows that they've got a bunch of kids out on the Island where they live. They don't talk about who's kid is whose or even mention that they've given birth. Everyone says there have been gaps in the sisters' public appearances long enough for several rounds of babies for each of the sisters. But Inky? I just can't find out about anything specifically about her. I popped into Karista yesterday to see if I could clear that up. Got an eyeful of the sisters at a party. The one they said was Inky was a bit better behaved than some the others, who, umm, teased, and made trouble; one stepped out for fresh air with five different married men."
"Inky is in Karista? How about Scarlet and Beige? I met them too."
"I didn't catch those names. Where'd you meet them? This Desolation nineteen? Lord Hell just bought it last Spring. I checked."
"Damn strange place. She said it was built by Oldham Engineering. With magic."
Mogan nodded. "Yep. I've seen her work. Mind boggling."
"Her. Another witch?"
"Quail Oldham. Looks about sixteen. Then you talk to her and suddenly you realize there are people so smart they just don't operate on the same plane as us ordinary people. I vetted her for building the causeway over the North Swamp."
"Ah, yes. Think it'll get done this winter?"
"It's already done. I wasn't kidding about the mind boggling. Wait till you see it." Mogan glanced around. "Although I can see why you'd want to recuperate here instead of popping home. What happened?"
"Oh." Vinz hadn't ever told anyone in the company about his brief teenage detour to Auralia. "Started with something I ate, I suppose. My gut hurt like hell and by the time I dragged myself in here, I was a bit, umm."
"You're kidding." Mogan shook his head. "All these decades of tromping around the desert laughing at us softies, and you finally get heat stroke. I'll leave my horse here, for that Gemstone to Lucky Strike section, otherwise you corridor straight home or I'll tell Miss Henso."
"I think I'll stop back by Inky and her daughters."
"Right. A seven hundred mile detour, when you look like hell. I thought you had better sense. And speaking of Miss Henso, let me know when you're going to tell her you're marrying a witch. I want to be out of town."
"Are their reputations really that bad?"
"No. Just . . . there's just so much of it. And did you say daughters?"
"Triplets, cutest bunch of little girls imaginable. You ought to stick around just to see a new range of expressions on Miss Henso's face."
"Ha! I'm going to tell her you're fine and run away. Track those damned bandits for a year or so. The Marshall's asked the King for help, by the way. Says something has to be done about those corridors.
***
People flooded in from Rip World as their first winter storm blew down on them.
Vinz chickened out on visiting Inky and took the corridor to a village called Ash, and another to Gemstone, rode to Lucky Strike, and corridored back to Farofo. The dogs followed him.
Chapter Six
Late Winter 1398
Karista, capital city of the Kingdom of the West
Really. It's just the spells Q told me about. Paranoia and such. Xen is my friend. Garit tried to relax his shoulders and back as he glanced at the taller officer. Just a random encounter at the entrance to HQ. It's not like he's hunting me.
He cleared his throat and set his mind to business. "Pity you sent all the Earthers away, we spent a lot of time thinking about how our army could counter all that machinery of theirs."
Xen
grinned. "I boggle at the thought of cavalry against tanks and helicopters. I'm almost afraid to ask."
"Hit and run, attacking their supply lines, sabotaging bridges and roads . . . yelling for Magic Central to come rescue us . . . "
Xen snorted. "And in fact, that's just what we did. We sabotaged their high tech 'road' and they simply couldn't get here to attack us."
"Just as well, although a couple of strikes and battles to test things first would have helped us train for the all-out war we'll have some day. They won't leave us alone." Garit eyed him.
Xen shrugged. "Last time it took them almost twenty years to find their marooned troops. But it sounded like they have developed some basic steering ability. They can concentrate on a region, so it's no longer completely random. But first they have to rebuild their gate maker. It's been about a year . . . well, Q's checking their progress. We'll know when they get it working, and we'll be watching their attitudes."
Have you got her watching me? Garit tromped on that thought.
"So with the Earther situation under control, I'd better put you to work on the bandits, before you get hauled off on something else." Garit hesitated. "Is there something else?"
"The Hors de Combat—who I am delighted to say have decided to be the Black Island Pyramid—caused some problems, but the witches hit them so hard they fled, destroying their corridor behind them. As far as we can tell, they've isolated themselves. But other than poking about waiting for them to come back, Magic Central is blissfully unbusy."
"Excellent. I wish you'd been there when we lost the bandits . . . " Garit paused to let Xen proceed him up the stairs. He's a friend, damn it. I don't have to watch my back.
Magic Central had a double row of offices with enough open space in the middle for a conference table.