Pure Poison (Wine of the Gods Book 32)

by Pam Uphoff

  Pure Poison

  Pam Uphoff

  Copyright © 2017 Pamela Uphoff

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN

  978-1-939746-30-6

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.

  Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design P.A. McWhorter

  Chapter One

  6 Rajab 1404 yp

  "Hey Scar!"

  Corporal Wsca Withione Zuata Aragua racked the weights before he looked around.

  Ux and Icky, of course.

  Ux—Uxmo if one wanted to be formal—was scowling at Icky—Ixpu—and no doubt, once again, wanted someone to referee.

  "What is it this time?" Am I allowed to knock their heads together: "Speed Team" my ass. They ought to call us the compulsive gamblers team, and these two are the worst.

  "Do you know if the dancers' extra training includes extra poisons not on the official list?"

  Scar groaned. "No. I do not know. I wouldn't be surprised either way, but you know it's most likely just a stupid movie trope. 'The undetectable poison' is nonsense. And if you want to know, why don't you ask Rael?"

  "Because how do we know she'd tell the truth? We want to know how many poisons she's got in her brag box. That's the bet. Icky says she's got all thirty-six. I think she's got more."

  Scar looked across the gym, to where a whip thin redhead was practicing gymnastics. Laughs from two other princesses as Rael over-rotated and landed on her butt. "Well, as far as I know, she's the only dancer here. Of course even she doesn't admit it in public. Everyone just assumes. There could be a dozen more in with the rest of the princesses."

  He could hear Rael giggle. Hard to believe she's a trained assassin and spy. Honey trap? Yeah, that is very very believable. The glow, the bounce, the sheer happiness the woman radiates . . . Scar shut down that line of thought.

  Princesses—women with strong magical abilities and trained to use magic, brains, sex appeal, poisons, and anything else to carry out the will of the One—were chancy targets for lonely guards. And dancers were the princesses with extra training, special agents of the One itself. Yeah, she attracts everyone, and no one is foolish enough to get fresh.

  Scar turned back to the matter at hand. "The only way you'll find out how many poisons Rael has is with a barracks-wide betting pool."

  Ux and Icky both perked up, and headed for Lieutenant Wvnw. Lt. Van rolled his eyes and walked over to Mayc, the number two princess, who laughed.

  The betting board lit up—a jury-rigged antique game machine that Major Eppa tolerated because it limited the amount of the bets placed and kept them honest, instead of at each other's throats.

  A sigh from Sergeant Ohhe, behind him. "Of course with those two, who knows what side bet they have going."

  The sign lit.

  HOW MANY POISONS DOES RAEL HAVE IN HER BRAG BOX?

  ”What! Nonononono . . . oh One! This is going to be embarrassing." Rael walked up clutching her short hair. "What do you mean thirty-six plus? Are we believing the spy vids now?"

  Fool—Feol, head of the presidential guard princesses—looked back at her. "Well we don't know do we? So . . . how many semesters of poisons did you take?"

  "Umm, umm . . . well . . . three but . . ."

  "Huh. And here I thought the School only offered two." Fool crossed her arms.

  Rael started laughing. "What if I can't find the damned thing."

  "We'll help you look." Several princesses tried to loom.

  The effect was ruined by Rael's giggling. "I think I need to shower, then go read a report or something."

  A wave of protest resulted in Lt. Van and Fool leading a small troop to escort her to her room and secure the brag box—unopened.

  Scar went back to the weights. Paused at a stir—ah, President Orde and Director Urfa passing through. The President's assigned princess was with him—Qayg was rumored to be more of a friend that a watchdog—but Urfa was alone. His assigned princess was a snobby . . . ahem. That is to say, Princess Peic was not given to socializing, and showed not the faintest sign of being attracted to—or even liking—the man she monitored for the One.

  The One True God. The Hive Mind. The concentrated magical power that brought us all together. And the One's check on the government. Every powerful man assigned a princess. Sign of his importance, and a check on his ambitions. Armed with—among other things—poison.

  His eyes tracked a pair of princesses—excess to the One's needs, they were released from the service of the One, and mostly snapped up quickly by other employers. In this case, the Presidential Directorate.

  Nope. Too dangerous. Now that cute little secretary in accounting . . . Bear? No, Beir. I think. I need to find an excuse to chat her up.

  By the time Scar had finished his routine, showered and climbed into his dress uniform, the tally was impressively clumped around thirty-six and thirty-six plus. A few people had bet on numbers in the low thirties, hoping to scoop the pool. Scar blinked at one bet of three.

  "Why is three the lowest number and who bet on that?"

  One of the princesses raised an eyebrow. "It takes an absolute minimum of three to pass the basic course, and it's required to graduate."

  "Oooo. Someone's going to get beat up with an insult like that."

  Snickers from everyone in hearing range. "No . . . I don't think she'll beat up President Orde. He said she didn't seem like the poisonous type and paid his ten rials."

  Scar blinked. "Well, just because she's incredible at the physical and magical doesn't mean she barely scraped by at anything else. Academically." He eyed the red number and shook his head. He placed his bet on twenty-nine, then trotted out for inspection before boarding the bus to Government House.

  "Last week of inside duty." He flopped down beside Rip—Wrpw—and closed his eyes.

  "Yeah . . . I got mounted duty starting next week." The kid sounded nervous. He'd spent a month working up at Versalle, and was just starting to stand post in Government House.

  "It's not as dire as the tourist literature makes it sound. Even the guys playing statue out front get breaks, switching out for a one hour moving patrol every half hour. You'll see." Oh drat. "I have mounted duty next week as well. It's a nice change of pace." When the weather is cooler!

  But today it was just a lot of strolling about a huge building, to no schedule and no predictability. Checking some hallways as the president moved about, standing outside a door or two, then back home.

  It looked like everyone had placed their bets, or at any rate had the opportunity; a reveal time was posted.

  So, that rendered his biggest decision of the day down to dinner in or out? Scar eyed the women around . . . princesses, trained to . . . not be ordinary women. Not one he had the nerve to ask out.

  I should get out more. Meet regular women. Or bar hop and meet loose women . . . not that that works all that often. Bear or Beir. Dammit, if I was sure about her name I wouldn't be so nervous about striking up a conversation.

  "Gonna make your move soon?"

  Scar cast a jaundiced look over his shoulder.

  "Hi Sarge. Nope. Just gazing wistfully. They may be gorgeous, but that just adds to the scare factor. And half of them can kick my ass and have proved it sparring. But I've got two days off in three days. I will get out of here and meet people. Now? I'm going to eat, then kick back with a good book." Scar checked the game board . . . "In an hour after me and four other people scoop the pot."

  "Not a chance. Rael's a dancer, she even wins against Isakson . . . sometimes."

  "Well, she kicks
my ass regularly. I didn't think anyone could move that fast."

  Ohhe nodded. "If the Olympic committee ever saw her and Isakson going after each other, they'd faint. And then they'd add at least two levels to the Speed ratings."

  Scar grinned. "No, they'd faint when they saw the top dogs allowing head and neck strikes. So, what does the cafeteria have on offer tonight?"

  Ux and Icky joined them and he waved in Rip, who was looking a bit lost. "C'mon in kid, we don't bite . . . too often."

  But they did argue about sports, the relative merits of various recently viewed movies and especially the leading ladies there-in.

  The bell in the gym dinged three times.

  "All betting is closed." Lt. Van produced the envelope from his office safe and opened it. "Rael? You sure this is your brag box. Feels pretty light."

  A hand with an elegant middle finger raised waved from a clump of princesses.

  Someone angled a vid cam and the box showed up on the big wall screen.

  I have to get out more. This is a ridiculous way to spend a beautiful evening.

  The box was opened, inverted onto a white table cloth . . . two little squares fell out.

  "Two!" Rael eeled through the crowd. "There should be three!"

  She scowled down at the box.

  Fool burst out laughing . "Really Rael? Three? I thought you said you have three semesters of Poisons?"

  "Well . . . well . . . "

  "You didn't!" Mac pulled out her comm and started tapping. "Professor Gouz?" She was failing entirely to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Did Rael actually take three semesters . . . " She held the comm away from her ear and Lt. Van stuck his microphone close.

  "To pass Basic Poisons? Flunk twice before she made the supreme effort and got her third poison? Yes. One! The whole idea bothered her so much that during a couple of lectures she bolted for the bathroom to barf! Fortunately she thought LGI29 amusing enough to pass the test. And finally the class!"

  Rael gave up and started giggling. Then stopped to frown at her brag box. "It must have fallen out, what with all my moves."

  "Thank you Mistress." Mac clicked off and frowned down at Rael. "Amusing? That's a new poison since I was there."

  Rael wiped damp eyes, still grinning. "Oh, the expressions on your faces! Umm, that one mimics a lower gastro intestinal bug, but causes even more rapid dehydration."

  "Fatal case of the trots?"

  "Yep. I'd better go hunt through the boxes that are still in the closet and find it." Rael tucked her other two poisons back into the little box.

  "Methalformaline? That's never fatal. And B456CD comes paired with the antidote." Fool shook her head. "Giggles . . . "

  Rael spread her hands. "I'm a much better guard than I am an assassin."

  The crowd broke up with much laughing.

  "Hey! Who won!" A shout from the back.

  "Usual rules, if no one is exact, the closest wins. And the answer is, the sole person who bet on 'three,' President Orde."

  That raised a cheer.

  Rip looked puzzled.

  Scar laughed. "The President always spends his winnings on us. Anything from excellent steaks to killer deserts."

  Chapter Two

  9 Rajab 1404 yp

  Scar paced the executive hallway. Not where all the fancy official offices were found, but the working offices. The President's behind him, Urfa's next, with the attached infamous ultra secure blank walled barren meeting room. One of the few things the vids absolutely refused to get right.

  Long beep from his comm, and a click as his earbug turned on.

  "Wsca, you're nearest. Medical alert from the Director's meeting room. No details. Medics are on the way."

  Scar was already on motion, grabbing the door frame to whip around into the receptionists are, where the Director's sourpuss secretary raised her eyes from her nail filing to frown at him as he barreled past. Through the closed door . . . a long table, with Rael and Idlo hovering over the director.

  "Really, I'm just a bit tired. Nothing to fuss about." Urfa glanced Scar's direction and sighed. "But I'm going to get the works, aren't I?"

  "Yes, sir." Scar leaned for the quick exam, and spoke aloud, knowing his comm was now being monitored. "Patient Director Urfa. Conscious and talking." He reached for the man's wrist as he peered at his eyes. "Pupils even . . . pulse 70." Pinch the skin of the back of his hand. "Dehydrated . . . "

  He paused. Flicked a glance at Rael. Everyone looked at Rael.

  "Have you had diarrhea, sir?"

  "Off and on all night. I figured it was that press luncheon . . . " He broke off as Scar whipped around to his other side.

  "Rael, please step away from the director."

  "Oh bloody hell . . . the missing poison." Her head snapped around as the medical team entered. "Get him on a IV fast, he may have been poisoned . . . "

  Scar tried to split his attention between Rael and Urfa.

  She'd pulled out her comm and was tapping away. "Qayg, do you have LGI29? We need the antidote." Click. Another number. "Bunny, you're a recent grad, do you have LGI29? We may need the antidote . . . well go get it! bring it to the director's conference room. Quickly."

  She met Scar's eyes. "It's in her locker in the basement. Of course. Nobody bloody carries in here."

  "I really don't need . . . " Urfa sounded exasperated. "Oh good grief . . . " the later addressed to the gurney being wheeled in. "I can walk, dammit . . . "

  The second most powerful man in the Empire was ignored. Manhandled onto the gurney, strapped down and wheeled off at a run.

  The silence was deafening as they all looked at each other.

  Then a herd of guards, and a breathless young woman with a pretty little box clutched in her hands. "Am I too late! I'd didn't stop to find the right one." She popped the top. A couple dozen ways to kill a man spilled out.

  "Don't touch anything." Scar snapped. "Which one is the . . . gastro whatever . . . "

  "Brown and yellow stripes." Rael was standing back. "That looks like it on the right side, halfway back."

  "Do you need me to take it . . . " The woman . . . Bear/Beir? Had Rael called her Bunny? Was all big eyed and anxious. She shut up at his shaken head.

  "Just in case this is a poisoning . . . I recommend no Princesses near the Director. Sergeant? Should we send this to the hospital, to be used only in extremis?" Scar magnified his vision and made absolutely sure it was the antidote he snapped off the card.

  Ohhe had stress lines around his eyes. "Yes. Icky, Rip, go." He turned back, looked from Scar to Rael. "One."

  Rael nodded. "That is unfortunately proper procedure."

  More running feet.

  Major Eppa elbowed into the room. "Report." He followed everyone's gaze toward Scar.

  Gulp!

  "Director Urfa was apparently not feeling well. Diarrhea last night and dehydration today . . . he is enroute to the hospital." Scar tried to not squirm. "Two nights ago, there was a discussion of the effects of one particular Princess Poison following . . . discovery of a missing dose of same from Princess Rael's brag box. Umm, we may have overreacted."

  The Major eyed Rael.

  "LGI29 causes explosive diarrhea and rapid dehydration, death from shock and system shutdown. I have no idea how long mine has been missing. I do not recall checking it . . . since I graduated, actually."

  Scar glanced at the younger woman. "Princess Rael made two calls and located a princess with the antidote. That has been sent to the hospital."

  The major looked down at the girl who looked ready to flee. Or maybe faint.

  "Beir Withione Alcairo. Princess Beir. Bunny." She wasn't quite stammering. "I'm an assistant secretary to Mr. Ijnu in accounting . . . "

  "But you're a princess?"

  "Well, I . . . my first assignment . . . I had to quit . . . I wasn't any good at it . . . His new princess had him arrested for laundering drug money three days after . . . And I hadn't had a clue . . . I went back to school .
. . Umm, yes? I'm a princess?" She floundered to a halt.

  "Right. We'll treat this as an attempted murder until proven otherwise." He ran his eyes around the room. "First. No Princess will be investigating. Second. No talking to the press. The Director has a stomach bug and we're just being overly cautious. Got it?"

  "Yes, sir." Scar joined the chorus.

  "Sergeant Ohhe, get statements from everyone here, Captain Onca's on the way. He will be the lead investigator."

  Scar got sat down to write out his own report. And then started a list.

  1-Find out how many Princesses have this LGI29.

  LGI, well. Lower Gastro Intestinal . . . But I wonder what the 29 means?

  2-Search Rael's room for the missing poison.

  She moved to Montevideo while she was rehabbing, and then back, so maybe it's just at the bottom of . . . whatever it was in?

  3-This Bunny . . . Rael has her comm number memorized . . . and why was the poison even in her locker? Why not leave it at home? She's a real princess, went through the Princess School, was assigned . . . failed and went back to school. More Princess School or some secretarial type school?

  She's not what I think of as a dancer—a princess acting as an agent for the One itself. But then Rael isn't, either.

  4-

  Oh One no! What if the One ordered Urfa's pain-in-the-ass secretary to kill him! How the Hell do I investigate that? How the hell do we stop a repeated attempt?

  4-Interview the princess everyone calls Pique . . . Peic . . .

  5-What is a trained princess doing as an assistant secretary in accounting.

  A dancer? A direct agent of the One?

  Scar had been subliminally aware of Captain Onca circulating, twitched as he realized the captain was reading over his shoulder.

  "Very nice, Corporal. Logical. Grab your squad and take care of number two. Gloves, evidence bags, the works."

  Scar nodded. "Yes sir." He looked at Bunny's brag box and scattered poisons, still on the table. Looked at the wide-eyed young lady. "Miss, er, Princess Beir? Perhaps we should keep your brag box, just for a few days?"