Comet Fall (Wine of the Gods)

by Pam Uphoff

  Rustle looked at her father in exasperation. "First, this is a silly precaution, because the comet is small, and second I can do my own shield, and third, you are so determined that the shields be tight that if something happens to you, us kids could be trapped in there forever. And, I'm strong enough to help."

  Her father bent down and kissed her. "Sorry kiddo, you aren't going to argue your way out of this one. Your good buddy, the Auld Wulf showed me how to do this."

  A flick of blackness.

  "Daaad . . . " Rustle blinked at her exhausted mother, jumped up and hugged her. "Did it work?" She looked around anxiously, but there was Dad, too, releasing Havi.

  "Yes. The Gods sped it up a little and we were able to break it up. Comets are mostly ice, so the small chunks that did hit burned up in the upper atmosphere. But still . . . it was hard to reach so far." She blinked back tears. "It was too much for Blissful. Her heart. And the Auld Wulf, I really thought he'd drained himself. He . . . doesn't look very good."

  Rustle felt a cold core of fear, and hustled, got dinner ready, got hot baths for both of them, tucked them both into bed, and checking on her little sisters, got them to bed and asleep. Havi yawned, he hadn't slept well the night before, and stumbled off to bed himself.

  She put on her grubby riding clothes, then, and walking boots. The sun was just clearing the mountains. She couldn't take one of the horses from the stable, Dad or Havi might hear the sound of shod hooves on the hard rock of the yard. But she took a halter and lead rope before she trotted downhill half a mile to where the trees thinned out leaving the grassy hills empty except for their flocks and herds. A nicker greeted her, and galloping hooves. Rusty Junk, so named because as an angular foal that was what she'd looked like, was hers, not just a family horse that she rode, but hers. She was also not quite three and not broke to ride, so Rustle was relieved when her dam followed her over. The old black mare was easy to catch, and steer with just a halter. They trotted over the hill into the main valley where the village of Ash had started. The streets were empty, in the dawn light. She shivered and steered around to the east, up to the winery. She slid off at the ravine and released Inky. She'd wander home, most likely, but Rustle wasn't worried about getting home. Only being here. Seeing that the Auld Wulf was all right.

  She walked quietly up the path, listened with her inner senses. No one was here. They'd left him. Then she wondered if maybe he wasn't here. It would make sense that they would keep him close, take care of him.

  But she'd never been able to sense him at a distance. So she checked, and there he was. Quiet and still, she could barely see him breath. If she woke him, would he speak a name? Some love from long ago, now long dead?

  The god was over a thousand years old. He fascinated her. She knew it was silly to have a crush on such a person, to think of him like that. To think about him and sex.

  He shifted slightly, opened his eyes, and chuckled. "I might have known you'd slip in."

  "Are you all right?"

  "We gods do this periodically, Rustle. I'll sleep a great deal over the next year, maybe longer. But then I'll be young and energetic again, so don't you neglect your sword lessons."

  She took his hand. "Should you be alone?"

  His hand tightened on hers, his thumb rubbed over her knuckles. "We tend to be mentally open and both vulnerable and dangerous at times like this. I need to be alone. You are very quiet and private, so check on me if you need to, it won't hurt. But most people need to stay away."

  She leaned over the bed and kissed his cheek, or that was her intension. He turned his head and kissed her mouth, put a hand around her . . . and withdrew suddenly.

  "Sorry, too open. Go away, Rustle. I'll be fine."

  She put a hand to her lips, and had to force herself to leave.

  The God of War was not seen that year, his vines grew wild and his absence grew familiar. Rustle visited, but found him usually asleep, like an unlikely princess in a fairy tale, or nearly sleepwalking, eating and returning to bed. At first he looked older, then he started looking younger. She didn't kiss him, to see if it would wake him. She'd save it, in case he got too young. Then it would be time for stronger measures.

  Unfortunately her mother's father's family took an interest in the illegitimate country cousins, and pulled her away before he awoke.

  Chapter Four

  1369 Winter Solstice

  Karista, Capital City of the Kingdom of the West

  "Witches should not have comings-out. Or should that be coming-outs?" Rustle fussed with the tight bodice. She really hated the light blue color 'suitable for a young maiden' and had embroidered deeper blue all over it. A geometric pattern. Not the sissy flowers that Aunt Fussy, err, Lady Florence, had said were more appropriate.

  Lady Florence wasn't actually her Aunt. She was some distant relative of her grandfather's. And Grandfather—General Prince Rufi Negue—had sent the poor woman out to Ash to 'educate' his doubly illegitimate granddaughter in the ways of civilized society. The last six months had been hard on the poor woman.

  And now they'd all been dragged to Karista, to be put on public display.

  "This isn't a proper 'coming out' at all. It's merely your first appearance in public. If you were legitimate, you'd be the cause of a party."

  Rustle rolled her eyes.

  In two weeks King Rebo would be celebrating his one hundredth birthday, and wanted all of his family present.

  It was even worse for Leopardite. Technically she was Rustle's aunt, but since she was younger than Rustle by two years they usually just ignored silliness like that. But at fourteen, she'd just be introduced—presented—and then expected to disappear like a nice child. Poor Leppie wouldn't even get to dance.

  The dancing might even be worth this ridiculous bodice. Padded to lift her 'modest' bosom. Low to display cleavage. Light blue for innocence. Old Gods, they really ought to make up their minds.

  "Hold still," Aunt Fussy frowned, powdered puff in hand. "You are so pretty! I just know you will be very popular!"

  Why some people considered being the illegitimate granddaughter of the country's War Prince a privilege escaped her. And the only man she was interested in being popular with was back in Ash and probably thought she was still a baby. She could only hope that he'd think twenty-five or so was old enough, when the time came for her to advance.

  "The only reason I will be popular is because these city fools think witches are promiscuous. We're going to get treated like whores invited to a fancy ball."

  Her mother shrugged. "Just be utterly proper, not even a kiss or hug from anyone. The muttering will die down after the other young women figure out you aren't trying to marry any of the men they—or their mothers—have set their sights on."

  Rustle quietly thanked the old gods for a mother with common sense, and held still while Aunt Fussy finished her makeup.

  "What do you talk to these people about? 'My, how bricky your city is!'" Rustle scowled. "What do the women do? Everything I read says they sit about being pretty."

  Lady Florence sighed loudly. "They manage these over-decorated barns, as you call their mansions. They oversee the staff and plan ahead for the household expenses and they build a social support structure that can influence their husband's prestige. They don't need income, their husbands provide for them. I know your customs are different in Ash, but I'm sure we can find you a husband of substance so you won't need to go tromping in the wilds and making magic any more."

  It was Rustle's turn to sigh. Walking the mountains, forested or bare rock were among the pleasures of life. A witch's affinity for the Earth made finding and manipulating metals and precious stones easy, so once she had advanced, she could combine pleasure with skill and make a comfortable living. Subjectively, Rustle understood the richness of their garb, and their jewelry. But the truth was, they made it all. From herding Nil's sheep, through shearing, they had always had the best wool to work with. Although from what the Auld Wulf had said, it might not
, technically, be wool. Which might explain the prices Nil got for it. They had bought some of the ribbons, but had not otherwise paid for what they were able to do themselves.

  "Lady Florence, we get a get deal of pleasure and pride in being independent. We do not allow men to own or control us." Never sounded a bit miffed, and Rustle wondered if her mother was as tired of Aunt Fussy as she was.

  "Rustle, they'll ask all sorts of questions about witches. Just be perfectly honest. If they are shocked, they won't bother you again," Never snorted. "The funny ones are the ones that can't believe a witch is a virgin. Silly of them. Stand up now, and let's get a look at you."

  A summer and fall of increasingly frequent practice allowed Rustle to stand, walk and turn gracefully. The sweeping skirts with the bare minimum of petticoats barely touched the floor. Aunt Fussy had insisted on just a few pieces of jewelry, for modesty, with the most valuable stones, probably to increase her meat market value.

  "Excellent. Now, stand there and don't touch your face, while I fix up Lady Never."

  Rustle managed to keep her face straight, and watched in delight while her own torture was repeated on Never.

  Leppie got off easy, a touch of powder and lip tint "suitable for a young girl."

  Lady Florence rechecked her own appearance, nodded and led the trio of reluctant women out.

  The General was just entering the foyer from the other side, and beamed at them. "Ready to overwhelm the men of Western?"

  "Ready," Never shook her head. "Although I think you are optimistic. We're more likely to scandalize—again—than overwhelm."

  "Politics, my dear. The people, especially the government and military, need to become familiar with magic users again. However much I enjoy your company, an unrepentant family of witches is exactly what this group needs to meet. All the young officers we've rounded up for the Winter School will be here tonight. Talk to them. They need to know about witches."

  Rustle nodded. She and her mother had had a long chat. They'd recognized the political nature that underlay everything in the city.

  The butler threw open the door as the General's large carriage came to a halt, a nice bit of choreography. Rustle followed her mother into the carriage.

  "As you know, we're in a three way power struggle. Well short of war, at the moment, but things tend to blow up fast when one side has made the decision to go to war. The Auralians are flocking to the God of Peace. The things he's saying to them make me wish for the day when I only had to worry about Ba'al. He's started more of a political party than a religion, although it's a bit difficult to see the difference. They had a bit of a setback some years ago, the God of War showed up and sent him packing. But they've started probing the southern border again. The Veronians are, well. The God of Love." He shrugged. "A country wide orgy once a year, and a population explosion are doing odd things to that society. They're starting to look toward the New Lands too. I hate to say it, but Scoone is looking like a responsible, reasonable neighbor."

  "I heard they've stopped burning our emissaries." Never kept a straight face.

  The General snorted, "Yes, finally. They still won't have anything to do with the New Lands, so that's all to the good. The exploration of the Old World is going slowly. We've found sealed and protected buildings, and we're hoping for books, libraries, universities. I've been thinking about trying to get Nil to come with us, take a look and see if he can pry open the seals."

  Never nodded. "Mention the prospect of old books, and you probably won't be able to get rid of him."

  Rustle brightened. "Do you need some witches along?"

  Never snorted. "Most likely he'd prefer some older, more experienced magic users, Dear?"

  Rustle scowled.

  The carriage rattled to a halt. The General's house was adjacent to the Royal Palace. The ride was simply to circle the grounds and make an entrance.

  It was indeed an entrance. Someone had been checking the proper titles for Witches, and so they were announced as "Sister of the Full Moon Lady Never Happydaut," "Sister of the Crescent Moon Lady Rustle Neverdaut," and "Sister of the Crescent Moon Lady Leopardite Happydaut."

  "Lady?" Never murmured to the General.

  "I insisted, and Father agreed."

  No one argued with the venerable King Rebo.

  "Lady it is."

  Rustle spotted a few familiar faces; the King's mage visited Ash regularly, and a lot of army officers had passed through. The General, with Never on his arm and Rustle and Leppie following, led them to the central dais, and King Rebo.

  "Never, what a pleasure to see you again." King Rebo was finally showing his age, musculature gone stringy and thin, but his back was straight and his voice clear. "Rustle. Leopardite. You've never met the rest of the family."

  And they were all there.

  General Rufi's brother, Crown Prince Leano, and his wife Nez, with their two sons and four daughters. Aged nineteen through a baby in a nurse's arms, they looked to be expecting another child. There were cousins and nieces and nephews whose names Rustle immediately forgot, and another familiar face.

  Her mother beamed at one of the uniformed men. "Well, well. Captain Fitzroy! How are you Fossi?"

  Rustle recognized him from his rare visits to Ash. One of Harry's orphans, Crown Prince Leano's bastard son.

  "Never! Long time and all that." His eyes took in her trail of young women. "Old Gods! Now that makes me feel old! You with a grown child!"

  Never laughed. "And how are you doing? Last I heard you were still following in the General's footsteps, a confirmed bachelor?"

  "Only sensible thing to do, when in the Army," he smiled. "Although, I'm finally at a rank where I can start thinking about such things. At the moment I'm teaching in the Winter college. C'mon, I'll introduce you and your girls to some of the younger set."

  They were apparently a good enough excuse to let Fossi escape the family tableau. Being illegitimate, their quick appearance had been all that was required of them.

  Fossi led them to a defensive looking group of men in uniform. "They get flack for not being nobles, some of them. The few nobles get flack for being useful."

  One man stood out amongst the group. Taller than the rest, with hair so bright a gold she nearly expected to feel the heat when she shook hands with him. "Lieutenant Cuffeson, a pleasure." So amusing that someone with such hair would be named Gre.

  "Thank you Miss, er, Lady Rustle." A soft high childish voice that reminded her of her half brother. The young man's nervous gaze swept over the witches, and he hastily dropped her hand. Leppie was nearly breathless over him.

  Then the music started, and Aunt Fussy appeared to take Leppie home.

  At some point the younger set had demonstrated sufficient respect for the elder, that they were then allowed to join the dancing.

  Fossi led Never off and Rustle was mobbed with apparent admirers and quickly filled her dance card.

  She ignored the snide remarks of the city girls. Like mother had said, she didn't actually want any of these fellows. They were flat, to her mental senses. And rude. Although only one to the point that she kneed him. The last few fellows begged off, and she retreated, relieved.

  Chapter Five

  1369 Winter

  Karista

  Rustle tried to talk to the local girls her age. They were less than welcoming. She was quickly reduced to rather tame rides in the parks scattered around the city as the only entertainment. The only excitement was afforded by the young men acting like idiots. "Chasing" and "capturing" the girls, who apparently wanted to be captured. Which was even more irritating than the girls' gossip.

  It was almost a relief to get snowed in for a couple of days, playing cards and reading by a toasty fire.

  Then King Leano's Birthday bash. A lot of the country Lords came in for it, as well as all the Dukes and Governors. Well, one Governor. Their own Foothills Province had never taken to the idea of nobility. "Lord" Harry Traveler and Lady Gisele Health attended, and as
sured the concerned King and General that the Auld Wulf was recuperating. Governor Newry attached himself to them, fended off the few Lords who had trouble believing a woman could be the Land Grant Holder of a section all by herself, without a husband. Rustle looked on, hoping for a toad transformation or two, but Lady Gisele just looked amused. And managed to stay firmly in her Matron aspect.

  Rustle managed to affront an entirely new group of "gentlemen" and left early with considerable relief.

  They were back to riding in the frozen park between the Palace and the Council Hall as soon as the snow was cleared from the paths.

  The Young Bloods must have missed their games, they came tearing down the hill with faint regard for their horses legs, and this time when Rustle left them behind some of them still pursued.

  She galloped on a loose rein, sticking to the sanded paths where the chances of a bad spill on ice were lessened. Junk lifted her head into the crisp wind and stretched out, delighting in speed, rounding the curve . . . Rustle had one long moment of horrified realization as Junk hit the rope stretched across the path and she tried to tuck and save her head . . .

  She came back to awareness of a piercing pain in her head, and another in her crotch. She couldn't breath, gasping as the big weight on her body shoved forward and back on her. A man.

  Damn missed my own deflowering there, somewhere, she thought in a rather academic analysis through the daze and pain. She felt the power flowing out of her and into the man, but with her bare buttocks on the ground she pulled in more power. Could she get enough to kill him? He yelled triumphantly and shoved into her, the power sloshing back into her. Channel. She reached for Earth again, and this time sent the power back to the world. But not all of it. She kept her own reserves full while she drained the man until he rolled off of her. He collapsed and the other men laughed and crowded in. She sucked power out of the first one to touch her down there, but not fast enough to stop him. She pulled in more from the Earth and sent it into him, more and more, all she could handle. She wrapped up her pain and anger and threw it into him, and he cried out and shoved away from her, frantically. She turned the power on one of the men holding her arms spread out, and as he yelled and let go she rolled to hit the man on the other side. She was shoved face down into the frozen ground and another man mounted her from the rear. She was getting disoriented from the power flows, and tried to hold onto power, to anchor herself and see what she needed to do. The man came, and this time she channeled it all. She sent it around her, didn't let it touch her, drained him dry. He collapsed on top of her.