Comet Fall (Wine of the Gods)

by Pam Uphoff

  Rustle just shrugged. "I had all the expected changes in my perception. I've already used the Half Moon skills."

  But none of her other age mates came to visit.

  Havi pulled her out to the barn, where he was assembling all his wagon parts. "I'll put the wheels together as quickly as I can afford the ball bearings, and I should have enough money for the iron wheel rims in another month or two."

  Rustle admired his work. "I envy you. I'll still be an apprentice witch after you're an established, what? Farmer? Horse breeder? Mayor of the new village?"

  Havi made a rude noise. "You'll still be learning how to be a witch when you die of old age. Just like I'll be learning to be a wizard. I just need to be something else, too, while I'm learning. Ash is filled up, they don't need all of us young people." He took a peek at the newest young person in Ash. "A nephew. My nephew. Cute as a button, but who'd have though something that small could scream so loud?"

  "All babies do." She rolled a ball bearing around in her fingers. "I can help with a bunch of stuff now. Mother says I'll get more practice with iron ore, as soon as I get back to lessons." She bit her lip. If they let me come back. "So if your supply of iron runs low, I can go down to the South Fork red beds and get some."

  "That's pretty poor grade ore," Havi waffled. "Free, though."

  "Oh, running out of money?"

  "No, but we did request a Land Grant. We still haven't got a reply. When that's granted—if it's granted—we'll have to pay the whole price, or loose it through default. Some of the people who want to come have been paying us, but I can't use that money for anything but the Land Grant."

  "After everything Mother and Dad did out there? You ought to get a Land Grant for free." Rustle frowned. "If you're short, you can look for more people to join up. And I've got diamonds. It might be nice to get out of here, at least for awhile."

  That perked Havi up. "If I had my choice of family members to bring along, you'd be it . . . Would the witches let you go?"

  She chuckled and patted little Xen. "Right now they're so horrified they may chuck me out."

  "Aw, c'mon, because you had a son instead of a daughter?"

  "Answer combed through her memories for a precedent, and found nothing," she shrugged. "I doubt they'll actually toss me, but I'm definitely the Bad Girl this week. Possibly year."

  Havi snickered, and leaned to hug her.

  Good grief. He's taller than I am. Huh. Growth spurt. Maybe he'll be as tall as Dad, after all.

  "If nothing else, you should come and visit us . . . of course it looks like we won't get out there this year, but thirteen, fourteen months from now, as soon as the pass is open in the spring, we should be rolling."

  "So you have time to either earn the money for the land grant or recruit people who can pay to join. Have you talked to Ask?"

  "Yeah, and all the other powerless girls, and mage boys, too. A bunch of them haven't grasped power and the Compass may toss them out." He sighed. "I sort of wish we could get out of here now, before the pass closes. Winter over in the Rip—remember what that was like? Then we'd be ready to plant, in the spring."

  "Yeah. Wasn't it great, when we were out there with Mom and Dad and Question and Lefty?" she smiled at the memories.

  "But it's a bit late to start, and we haven't got the money for the Grant yet." He juggled his handful of ball bearings. "And I ought to build more wagons, but really, most of our money needs to go into the land fund. I have a nasty feeling we'll be lucky to get out of here in the spring."

  "Don't buy any more iron. I'll at least go down and collect raw ore. Peace and quiet, and no one glaring at Xen."

  Chapter Eight

  1370 Winter

  Ash

  The colt was black. No doubt about it at all. He had an angular, awkward, very immature look, which given the size of his shoulders was a good thing. Rustle had had to help poor Junk, a good long pull on one cannon bone to angle the colt's shoulders through a bit cocked, one at a time. But now the morning sun gleamed on his dry coat and he assayed an awkward trot and buck as Junk led him across the paddock. No fool that mare, she'd waited for a nice break in the winter weather before foaling.

  "He's going to be big." Dydit leaned on the fence next to her. "How tall was the sire?"

  "Hmm, hard to say, over a foot taller than poor Rusty. Well over. I had some serious qualms about her taste in men."

  Dydit slanted a skeptical look her way, "That would be at least nineteen hands."

  "At least." She watched the foal as he essayed a gallop in a circle around his dam. "I wish he'd stuck around for you to see."

  "Me too," He leaned over and checked the baby on her back. "There is a problem, isn't there?"

  "Umm," she shrugged. "Xen is growing a bit slowly. It's not a big deal. Anyway, this year I'm helping Havi. I'm going to go down to the South Fork Red Beds and refine some iron for him, make all the wagon and harness parts they need." She glanced uncertainly at her father. "I may go with them. To the New Lands."

  He glanced at the foal. "Wait a month or so, so you aren't stuck down there in a winter storm. And take the Traveler's wagon. Havi's settlement . . . well, let's see how little Xen does this year. And how the witches cope with the horror."

  "Deal," she rose on her tip toes and kissed his cheek. "Thanks, Dad."

  He snorted. "I don't like the idea of you alone down there. But I know better than to argue with a witch. Thought of a name for your colt yet?"

  She remembered how the black stallion had faded out. "Phantom."

  Xen woke up then, and she retreated to the porch to feed and change him. And spin the last of her wool into extra fine thread. Never was setting up her loom for light summer dress fabric, one of the big money makers the village produced every year.

  Never peered worriedly at Xen, "He's still sleeping a lot."

  "Yes," Rustle managed to keep most of the exasperation out of her voice, and started a mental list of everything she'd need for her trip. Including larger sized clothing for a growing baby.

  ***

  The pinto mares were half sisters, and thought as one. They were better known as the Terrible Twins, than by their individual names. Harnessed together they were easy to manage, even once they'd left the road, and headed upstream.

  The South Fork of the Cold River had been worked over by prospectors a century before, and traces of their old roads yet remained. The red beds had been a bit too low in iron to be worth the labor and transportation, and there was no local coal to use in a refinery. The last miner had thrown in the towel fifty years ago and since then only witches had mined the rocks. And they had only done it when they couldn't buy already refined ingots. So there was still a road of sorts for six miles. She stopped at the end, as Xen woke and cried. She nursed him quickly, before she unhitched the twins and pegged them out for the night. Junk, she pegged out beyond them and Phantom she left loose.

  Tomorrow, she would repair the old fencing the witches had built around this little glen, and figure out how to make a gate.

  Xen was fussing, so she put him in a sling across her front, and walked to the stream to fill a bucket with fresh water. "And what would you like for dinner tonight, my very shocking son? Second hand, of course."

  The four month old baby's gaze was fixed on the sights of the world, and she propped him up where he could watch as she lit a fire and cooked dinner. She settled beside him with a cup of hot tea. "It's going to be a long year until we leave for the New Lands, kiddo."

  She wondered what she'd be doing if she didn't have a baby. Crescent Moon exercises and eyeing every man who came through town. "Well, I'm cured of that, at least." Even if all I did was compare them to Him. She blushed. Still hero worshiping! You'd think I'd get over it!

  Motherhood and chopping trees, even the small ones, didn't go well together. It seemed like Xen cried every time she had one down and was about to do something with it. The crude fencing was getting even cruder, and finally evolved into weaving sapl
ings between tree trunks with enough strapping to keep them up at a reasonable height. She worked steadily, and in between fed, rocked and entertained Xen, washed diapers and cooked for herself. It took three days to do what she'd hoped to achieve in one, but in the end it was done.

  With Xen in the sling, she walked down to the river. Cold as advertised. Snow melt. She picked up a chunk of the red shale and hefted it. "Look Xen, iron ore, poor quality, but cheap. What do you think? Enough iron in there for a ball bearing or two?"

  The baby stared at the rock, and sucked on his fist.

  "Well, let's go see what we can do."

  The prospecting and refining worked well enough with motherhood. She was limited in how much rock she could carry, but Xen was happy in the sling, and the excitement of it all tended to tire him. He usually went right to sleep when they got back to camp, which also gave her time to work with Phantom. More like playing, actually. He took readily to halter and lead rope, tied, picked up his feet for inspection and all the things that would eventually lead to a well mannered mount. His fuzzy foal coat shed and he was sleek and black under it, shining in the sun.

  She started on something easy, ball bearings. She could pull the iron oxide out of the rock magically, which put her one up on mundane foundries, then concentrating smaller, pulled the oxygen off the iron. She formed them into little balls, and put them in her fire. It wasn't hot enough to melt the iron, but the metal absorbed carbon and could be molded into perfectly round spheres at a vastly lower temperature with her application of the power she drew from Earth and concentrated upon the metal.

  "How many of those are you going to make?"

  She looked up, startled. "Dad!" she scrambled up and hugged him. "What are you doing here? Checking up on me?"

  "That, plus Havi said you needed this." He walked around his horse and unslung a wagon wheel.

  "Excellent. He promised to get all the wheels the same size, so if I make a rim that will fit this one, it'll fit all of them."

  Dydit crossed his arms and frowned down at her. "And you need to be more alert. I rode right up to camp without you noticing."

  "I can't meditate and work metal while paranoid."

  "Heh. Don't ever let Nil hear you say that."

  She rolled her eyes.

  "And your brother is taking advantage of you. You should be at home being coddled, not living out here like a savage."

  "If I was at home, I'd still be washing diapers and cooking. Probably spinning wool for Mother and keeping an eye on Topaz while minding the baby." She shook her head at her father. "That may be more 'ladylike' than magically purifying and forming iron, but it isn't less work, and I prefer this."

  "Rustle . . . I thought you'd get sick and tired of this, quickly. I thought you'd come back home."

  "Sorry, Dad. But, if you want to ease my burden, take the Terrible Twins home, so my grass lasts longer."

  "But then you'll be stuck here," he protested.

  "No, the wagon will be stuck here. I can always hop on Junk and be home in two days. Well, three, maybe."

  He grumbled, and produced dinner; fresh bread and a good sized ham, tubers that she roasted in the coals of her fire, and fresh fruit. "Your mother said she'd bet you left without any fruit at all."

  He admired Phantom, played with Xen when he woke, and in the morning took the Twins and her bearings away.

  She started on wheel rims, and used the smaller leftover iron for harness rings and buckles.

  The days got longer, and Xen grew steadily and started crawling. Which added mobility to the challenges he already presented.

  The Auld Wulf was her second visitor, and he came on a bad day, when a fussy baby had kept her up all night and the wash wasn't even started.

  He simply held out his hands for the baby. "Sleep. Washing diapers will be good for my soul."

  She slept most of the day, and rousted herself out only because she felt so hungry.

  How he washed the diapers she couldn't imagine. They were brilliantly clean, fluffy and smelled of some odd perfume. He'd washed everything and produced dinner and a relaxed and happy baby. "Look, a tooth."

  "Ah, is that what the problem was?" She was relieved. "I thought I was doing something wrong. Besides having a son, instead of a daughter."

  "No you're doing everything right. I'm afraid teeth happen." He smiled down at the boy. "It's just a matter of fooling with a witch's immune system, to let her have sons. I really wouldn't have done this to you, if I'd been alert enough to be thinking. But I was half dreaming and making a baby god with you seemed a wonderful idea."

  "How many babies have you raised?"

  "Oh, none of my own. For a man who's over a thousand years old, I've remarkably few children. But anyone who spends any time around Harry pretty much has to learn."

  "Most likely." She studied him. "A thousand years?"

  "Fourteen hundred, give or take a decade. I suspect I skipped a great deal of it. You get to where there's just been too many people who . . . aren't there any more, too many years, too many odd expectations pulling you apart. You just stop keeping track of time, go hide in the wilderness."

  "Is that how you dealt with the dark ages after the comet?"

  "When the comet fell . . . there was so little warning, we charted its course, we knew it would be close, that the Moon might affect it, but that we couldn't calculate, and we had so little time. We tried to move it, you see, but it was too far away for us to touch it, and then it came so fast we didn't have time. We shoved the pieces as far north as we could, we thought since it was aimed north of the equator and with the biggest cities in the south, or the southern parts of the northern hemisphere . . . Then we all rolled ourselves up in our shields and wondered if we would survive. No, I was very alert then. Inside the bubbles little time passed, we'd look out frequently, watched the world slowly recover. Some of the other gods slept, though. Or locked themselves up so tight, in so many layers, they aren't aware of the time passing at all. One by one they've been stirring, waking up and looking out to see if anything is left."

  He stared at the twilight sky a long time. "Gisele saved the biggest town in Scoone—that was later known as High Top, where your father was born. We remember the whole of the Dark Ages. I remember the Groillian Wizards, and the Tyrant Wizards of Scoone, the colonization of the West. Chance says he woke up nine hundred years ago, and that Peace can't have been awake more than forty years or so before him. And Romeau has lost close to a thousand years, waking up fifteen years ago."

  He stroked the silky hair of the baby in his arms. "We argue regularly about whether we might need more gods, or at least more very powerful magic users. If another big comet came, you see? Perhaps we should have left those wizards in Scoone alone, not added more magical genes to their vicious playground. Yet look at Nil and your father. Look now, at you. Incredibly powerful." He looked down and shifted his feet a bit. "The wine was probably a bad idea though. The True God laughing at our hubris, perhaps."

  She chuckled. "When you're playing at breeding wizards and witches, the players tend to move themselves. And I'm glad to be alive."

  "It's nearly the Solstice, do you need me to take Xen for a day? Or rather a night?"

  "Umm," she touched aching breasts. "I suspect a whole day would be painful, but yes, I would like very much to go, and . . . without worrying about Xen all through the night's celebration."

  "Then I will meet you on the path, in the afternoon, and be back there in the morning."

  "Thank you."

  He smiled a bit crookedly, kissed the baby's head, and then handed him to her and faded away.

  "So, little one. What sort of child does a god have, anyway?"

  "Gah?"

  "So you don't know either? Well, let me dust off my genetics, which I have neglected lately . . ." She sat down on the step up to the back of the wagon and focused her mental perceptions down to look at the insides of a cell. She searched for a cell that was dividing and had all the chromosom
es curled up and easy to sort through. ". . . and I see that you have all the usual genes . . . and the Mage gene on your Y chromosome, which is to be expected. And on the X you ought to have either my witch gene or my wizard . . . " She rubbed her eyes and looked again, focused her mental attention down to tiny . . . "Or you might have both of them tucked in together. Oh. My. Gods have two power genes. What will you do with three? One of each?"

  Xen didn't seem to care.

  "I guess we'll see in fifteen years or so." She shrugged it away and carried the boy inside.

  A new sword belt was hanging from a hook on the wall of the wagon beside her pots and pans. Complete with sword. It was small, her size, with a pouch and a dagger. She slid the sword out of the sheathe and admired its watermarked pattern. The knife blade was similar, a long, serious, knife. The haft fitted her hand, and the pouch was full of . . . or perhaps empty of . . . some odd sort of magical potential. She found time, here and there to practice her forms.

  She rode back to Ash two weeks later, and left Rusty and Phantom there. Her father and Nil promised to watch him very, very closely.

  Her mother hugged her. "Miss Independent! How's is Xen?"

  "We have survived his first tooth, and are not anticipating with joy the thought of all the rest of them coming in."

  "Oh. Teething. Hmm, how quickly we forget the joys of babyhood."

  Obsidian and Topaz took turns holding Xen, and Obsidian even carried him a good part of the hike into the village. From there it was a solid two week hike through the mountains to the crest of the volcano.

  On the trek upward, the witches organized themselves, the Dark Crescents in the lead. Some of the older witches cast frowns back. But Never followed the witches who were definitely in the Waning Half—the grandmothers—even if she was ahead of all the Full Moons. Which group she claimed membership in was a bit ambiguous, and certainly none of the younger witches of the Full Moon challenged her.

  Rustle's attempt to do the same was loudly declaimed by the chorus of Tromp, Zenith and Cost.