by Pam Uphoff
"Hey, hey! Look mister, can you make them not see me going in or out? So I could lift anything?"
"Go away kid. You got one favor, because you looked so pitiful. I don't do tricks for pennies."
"Pennies! Do you realize how much some of that stuff is worth?"
"There's other stuff worth a lot more. What are you, a budding criminal? You aren't impressing me."
"That was just to get into the Lady Cougars. Once you're in, you have help stealing stuff. We could make it worth your while." She turned her slouch into a sexy slink and managed to hold it for three strides, before it slipped and she scampered to catch up with him.
He looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you have a place to sell your ill-gotten gains?"
"They do, but I don't know about them yet, since I'm not in yet."
"Hmmm. You know, I think I need to meet your friends. You say you need to steal something valuable to get in, right?"
"Right."
Ajay led the way out of the Mall, still holding unnoticeable around them both. He stopped a dozen feet beyond the red car. "See that bus stop? Meet me there at midnight. We'll pick up a few things for your sorority of thieves." Then he tossed an illusion that changed the appearance and color of the car and drove away.
At midnight, he drove them to a different mall, further away, and more pricey. With the stores closed, it was simple to toss a dimensional corridor through a wall and pick up a couple of nice designer outfits, several sizes of some shoes she declared 'to die for' and a trio of the over-priced handbags that women used to carry things in. Ajay picked up a black leather jacket that caught his eye.
Then they drove off. The girl—she answered to Hailey—gave him directions, and he let her and her acquisitions out on a corner.
Still holding the illusions, Ajay shivered a bit as he drove away. His head felt pretty stuffed, but he could feel her attention on him, so he didn't drop the illusions on the car until he was around a corner. By which time his head was splitting. He was definitely going to spend the rest of the night in bed.
He dragged out in the late morning to find Iron out in his small pasture showing the yearling colt to the neighbors.
The female of the pair was large and horsy herself. "Very nice movement indeed. It'll be a pity if you can't untangle the registration papers."
"Once their divorce is settled, I suspect they'll show up. I've only paid half the agreed on price, after all."
Ajay raised his eyebrows at the story. Even horses had to have identification here? Truly amazing. Iron nodded to him. "Marjory and Ian Westbury. This is Ajay. I see you survived your date."
"Barely. I definitely did not give her my number."
He chuckled. "Youngsters, these days."
"You're not married, Fidel?" The woman was nosy, like that was a surprise.
"My wife died eight years ago. I have two grown sons, no grandchildren, yet."
Westbury nodded. "We have a girl and a boy, both away at University. We'll bring them over and introduce them when the holidays come around."
"I'll look forward to that." Fidel escorted them off, and Ajay dropped behind to grab food from Iron's fridge.
He ate out on the porch, watching the trio walking through the Westbury's herd, fully engrossed in horseflesh. Not that he didn't like horses, but there was a limit to the detail he was interested in. He split a last apple with the colt. "So, the old man is going to get you some girl friends, eh? Bet you'll like that, won't you?"
Girl friends. A criminal gang of girls. Couldn't be worse than the witches, could it? After more thought, he drove to a grocery store he'd noticed on the way out the day before and loaded up on the kind of food he preferred, and three jugs of red wine.
He anointed two jugs from his hip flask, and kept the third for drinking. He really ought to have given Hailey his number.
***
Lord Fidel Irons appreciated the research that went into the sales booklet for the Richmond Winter Sale. A clear pedigree with a list of the racing results of every ancestor to set foot on the track for three generations, plus details of the mare's produce record. He highlighted five mares with the best race and poorest fertility records and then rounded up Ajay.
"I need a truck and trailer for moving horses around. So let's go buy them." This involved a bit of back and forthing between two car dealerships and three trailer dealers. Finally satisfied, the truck was sent for a trailer hitch assembly and then with the trailer for the farm name—Iron Bluffs—address and a bit of customized paint work to be added.
It was a classy looking rig.
Fidel hit the saddle shops for matching colored halters and lead ropes, decided against blankets, and ordered jackets with the farm name embroidered on it for himself and Ajay.
He just might do a bit of horse racing, along with the jumping. It would be interesting to see how the yearling crossed with the local horses. See what a bit of hybrid vigor could do. Steeplechasers didn't have the same purebred requirements as flat racing. Pity, the way that big colt flattened out and ran, he'd bet Red Sun could give the purebreds some real competition.
Friday night he dragged Ajay and the new rig halfway across the state to watch the yearling auction, learn the ropes, register himself with the auctioneers. Saturday the mares came up for auction, and he spent time out in the barns looking over all of them and changing his mind about which ones he was interested in. One needed to pay attention to conformation, not just speed pedigrees, after all.
He bought three mares and happily sweet talked them into the trailer for the ride home. Ajay drove carefully. His experience with boats seemed to translate well to driving. At least he didn't expect the truck to have independent judgment, like a horse. They made it safe and sound, and he gave each mare a dose of the Wine of the Gods.
"They're already in foal, aren't they?" Ajay yawned in the predawn light.
"Yes, but they all have records of miscarriage, so I think this will help."
"It helps everything else." Ajay grinned. "Poor Sun isn't getting any whoopee till spring."
"Which, considering his age, is just as well." Fidel led the last mare out to the five acre pasture and turned her loose. "I probably ought to get one more, so they can buddy up. I'll have to look for more sales."
He looked out over the extent of the farm. He'd thought a hundred acres had been a bit much to buy at the time, now he wondered if he would regret buying so little. Don't forget the Moon. Horses are all well and good, but I can get myself into a position of power in this World with corridors.
If I dare.
Chapter Two
29 December 2960
Ajay was polishing off a plate of loaded potato skins when Hailey plunked herself down across from him.
"Ha! Found you. Finally."
Ajay looked her over. She'd cut her hair and was wearing a different style of clothes. Probably the rentacops wouldn't recognize the cringing scruffy mess that had escaped them six weeks ago. He'd changed his own appearance just a bit, on general principles.
"Why? Didn't the Lady Cougars want you?"
"Of course they did. It's great, with them. No, the reason I'm glad you finally showed is, we're having a New Year's Eve party. Actually an orgy. At least we're going to try. The boyfriends may not be good for much, the amount of booze we've got."
"You are inviting me to an orgy?"
"Yep. I know you're not a real boyfriend, and all. Barely an acquaintance. But all the other girls are bringing guys, and they sort of sneer at anyone who can't drag a man to an orgy."
"Oh. Well, I've never passed up an orgy before, and I don't see any reason to start. Where and when?"
Chapter Three
31 Dec/1 January 2961
The Westbury's threw a party to celebrate the New Year.
Fidel dressed in his conservative best and showed up alone. This sort of party was his home hunting ground, and he quickly sorted out the doers from the talkers, the local powers from the larger and more distant powers. W
ho deferred to whom, who was listened to by everyone.
Amy and Michael Westbury seemed like polite young people. Nice. Just as well Ajay wasn't around to meet the girl.
"I was surprised at your choice of mares at the sales, Fidel." Marjory let the youngsters escape and seek their compatriots.
"I liked the bloodlines and the conformation. I suspect a lot of the poor fertility record is due to trying for early foals, hormone treatments, possibly even the use of steroids in the young horses. It may produce big muscular yearlings for the sales pavilion, but the long-term results are harming both the individual horses and, in my opinion, the breed as a whole. I have the time and attention to deal with the fertility issues."
A big man chuckled. "You don't sell yearlings."
"No, and in fact I'm just getting back into horses after a long hiatus. I'm more into hunting and jumping, I've never raced any of my horses."
"Jumpers, well, the impact on their front legs you'd better pay attention to their conformation." A young woman, well, probably early thirties, thin and athletic looking eyed him approvingly.
Marjory harrumphed. "I suppose you'll breed those mares to that pretty yearling of yours?"
"Probably not this year. He's an out-of-season foal. Sun won't be two until fall."
"You're kidding! That big fellow?" Ian was half drunk.
"He's a warmblood, not a thoroughbred, Ian." Marjory was less than approving of Ian's state.
There was a full moon, the weather was crisp and clear, and Fidel ended up leading an interested group across the patio to the fence between the Westbury's tennis courts and Sun's paddock. The colt was much admired. The athletic woman hiked up her dress and climbed the fence to make up to him and run her hands down his legs.
"That is a very fine fellow. Fifteen months? Oh, he's just lovely."
A man beside him sighed. "My daughter still hasn't grown up. Or outgrown a love of horses."
Fidel chuckled, and lied twenty years off his true age. "I'm almost fifty and still love them. My wife rode almost every day. But for a car crash she probably would have, well, for an even longer life." Lady Trawlei had always slapped down Thomu's occasional expressions of royal ambitions, quashing Fidel's incidentally at the same time. If she had lived, he'd never have considered what he'd done. What insanity had come over him, to give into Thomu's desires? Perhaps their mutual ambitions had fed on each other to their mutual destruction.
The gelding Fidel had bought to keep Sun company meandered over to the fence and Fidel broke off thoughts of might-have-beens to rub his itchy spots. A nice big slow ex-racehorse, Fidel had taken to riding him most afternoons. No reason to not stay fit, and perhaps he could lead Sun along in the Spring.
The woman hiked her skirt back up and climbed the fence again. "I'm Peggy Falconstone. I suppose I should have introduced myself before drooling on your horse."
Fidel chuckled. "Fidel Iron. He is drool worthy, isn't he?"
They walked back to the house together with the portion of the horsy set that had come along. "So tell me about your riding."
Marjory chuckled. "You obviously don't read the right magazines, Fidel, or you'd have recognized her name. Peggy's our local World Gold Cup jumping hopeful."
"Really? I'll have to change my reading habits, then."
Peggy laughed. "I'm close to being the former Gold Cup hopeful. I was placed twelfth in the North American Commonwealth last summer, which put me in the position of hoping two people who made the team would break a leg or something so I could go. Ah well. Three more years and I can try again."
"Fourth time's the charm?" A handsome man smiled smugly at her.
Her return smile was stiff. "Bobby! How nice to see you again. I didn't realize you were back from London. Just a visit, or have you transferred back? Where's Bunny?" She scanned the crowd.
"Bunny and I are divorcing." His voice went flat.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I thought you two made such a nice pair." More edge. Sounded like an old feud, or perhaps a love triangle.
"She likes the high society of London better than this backwater. I'm here for the time being. I may transfer back once the Redoubt extension is designed."
Redoubt? "Do you mean the Lunar Redoubt?" Fidel broke in.
The man eyed him cautiously. "Yes, I'm heading the extension project. We want to double the living space up there."
Fidel nodded. "I've read a bit about the Redoubt. Which of the quarters have had the least problems? I found the original design—four different types of architecture for the four outlying habitats interesting. Built-in competition. So . . . which designer has won?"
Peggy snickered. "Depends on who you ask. There hasn't been a serious problem yet, you see?"
"So it comes down to subtleties and personal preferences?" Fidel hazarded.
"And bribes to the selection committee."
"Those are just petty . . . the committee has had to look long and hard at the twenty-year-old habitats before settling on a new design. Free trips up, and hospitality are not bribes."
Fidel nodded. High tech, low tech, hardly matters, does it? "So long as it's all above board and involves no money landing in the individual committee men's pockets. I dare say all parties are tiptoeing the line, and doing their best to stay on the right side of it."
"You'd better believe it. We can't afford any delays, the way Spain is pushing their space program."
"I thought it was Nippon that was the big threat?" Falconstone senior swapped empty for full glass as the waiters made their rounds.
"They do a lot of talking, but they still have trouble with their life support systems." Bobby looked over at Fidel. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Robert Winston."
"Fidel Iron. I live next door."
They all started chatting about government and business and Fidel had a good time. Peggy circulated, but seemed to return rather often to his vicinity. Or Bobby's. It was hard to tell.
***
The Lady Cougars threw a pretty decent orgy. Ajay showed them how to throw an indecent one.
He brought one of his special jugs of wine and introduced the entire club to the use of magic in sex. Actually they were so vulnerable to the spells in the wine he just used the orgasm spells to really, really impress Hailey. And of course the 'happy mommy' spell, for everyone. Ajay figured they might as well get a head start on the baby witches they'd need if they were ever going to leave. He dosed all the other forms of alcohol flowing around—some of the distilled stuff revved up the spells for a real kick—so everyone had plenty of joy juice. All the boyfriends were sporting glazed grins as they snored around the labyrinthine 'loft' hangout of the Lady Cougars. So did the women, for that matter. All thirty-four of them.
Ajay's grin wasn't glazed, merely smug, as he kissed the cuddly limp Hailey a final time. He drank a glass of water, ran all his un-drunk and anti-hangover spells and pissed the smelly detritus away. Fit to drive, he headed downstairs and located the red car. Life was good. Wizards ruled. All he had to do was stay anonymous, so they couldn't sue him for child support in nine months.
He checked the barn chalkboard, fed all the horses, and noted that on the chalkboard before he crawled into bed for the whole day.
Chapter Four
20 February 2661
Fidel smiled at the cause of his sleepless night. A little beauty of a bay filly, tottering around the big stall after her mother. The other three mares would be delivering in the next two months. He savored the satisfaction and wondered if he should forget his other ambitions.
He had enough money, enough investments, to live on comfortably. Quietly. Raising no storms that would bring him to official notice. Would he get bored with the routine? Would his ambitions leap up again and drive him to some insane action? He brought up the memory deliberately. It had all seemed so clean, so businesslike, so long as he didn't think about it. Remove Leano with his lax grip on power, giving power away to the Council. Which was all well and good while Fidel was Preside
nt of the Council, but what would happen when Fidel was gone? They already had Members of Council representing merchants. And farmers. What would be next? Out-and-out democracy?
He'd tried to talk sense to Princess Amalie, to find out if Rolo would be any better, to find an excuse to somehow stop the machine he'd put into motion . . . Rolo should have been the Spear Prince. Then Leano was going to be married off to Rivolte's daughter, and they'd have had a noble Crown Prince. Rolo's common mother had contaminated him with all sorts of odd ideas, and Amalie was not going to steer him . . . And Fidel had stood at the top of that flight of stairs and done the unthinkable. With his own hands he'd pushed her.
He never wanted to ever stand in that place again.
Would trying to soar in the business community ever place him at the head of some other soul-destroying stairs?
He heard the rattle of the driveway gate opening and smiled. Peggy had been by regularly, and he'd gone to the lavish 'equestrian center' that was her second home and watched her big muscular Savannah's Pride working out, a relaxed schedule, she said, just keeping him fit enough that it would be easy to prep him for the Spring show season.
She walked in, grinning as she bounced over to inspect the filly. "Nice long shoulder. I refuse to comment further until she's three months old."
"Yeah, she looks like she hasn't finished unfolding yet." Fidel passed her a carrot to pass on to the mare. "Personally I love the looks of newborn foals. You finally have something to fit all your hopes and expectations around. Now instead of a black and white pedigree, you have a bay filly with one sock and a tiny star."
"Her sire's Blandishment, right? Good distance horse."
"And Mattie's got Goddard and Soft Rain in her pedigree. More distance. That's what I like to see in a horse."