Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats

by Pam Uphoff

  Likely brightened at the thought. "Oh, yes. C'mon, Mostly; let's get this over with."

  They walked off together, and the mercenaries watched them go. They drained their mugs, exchanged grins, and followed.

  Theo and Tivo, the two oldest boys scurried over to her. "Those men are after Mostly and Likely!"

  "Don't worry," she winked at them. "They won't hurt those poor mercenaries very much."

  Never worried a bit about them none the less, pacing the floor, and at one point hanging out the window as a fire bell rang several streets over. Whatever was burning was put out quickly, and the town returned to what passed for silence in a large town.

  Mostly and Likely came in together, a bit after midnight. They smelled of smoke and both looked a bit shaken. They crawled under their blankets without talking. Remembering her own week-long recovery, Never left them alone. And stifled her curiosity. I think they had a bit of an adventure!

  She fetched them breakfast the next morning, and picked up some juicy gossip about the fire. A number of the town's notables had been seen fleeing the town's fanciest brothel in various states of undress. She wondered a bit about the smell of smoke on Likely and Mostly. A brothel would be an obvious place to go for experience, but really, she suspected they rarely had women walking in the front door to volunteer for an evening . . .

  She found Curious comforting them. "But it worked, you both can channel now, even though it will take you a bit of time to recover." Her eyes gestured Never out, so she left the tray on the little side table and stepped out with the older woman.

  Curious shook her head sadly. “Those girls! They just don't understand! They went all gooey and happy, until the men started talking about how much the brothel keeper would pay if they dragged the girls in!"

  "What!" Never was shocked. "Wait, that fire last night?"

  Curious nodded. "Yes, that brothel. Those two little ninnies argued all the way there and didn't start fighting dirty until a customer walked in and decided on the spot to see if Mostly enjoyed being whipped."

  Never stared in horror. "They let those men sell them . . . but slavery is illegal, the man couldn't hope to hold them by force . . . how did they start the fire?"

  "One of the men they were trying to control knocked something over. The bouncer tossed them into the basement, locked them in while they fought the fire. Fortunately they remembered how to deal with rock, and tried the same on the brick until they got out. What a mess! Thank the old gods they did learn how to fight back and channel. I wouldn't want to go through this again. What their mothers will say when they get home!"

  Elegant and Delight joined them, and they walked downstairs for their own breakfasts.

  "This is nearly the first time you've been out of Ash, Never." Delight frowned. "Since your man came to you, instead of having to find one here. The world isn't as simple or law-abiding as Ash. Now, I doubt a brothel could hold a witch for long, not one with training. But a combination of shame and abuse, backed up with alcohol or drugs can enable a man to keep a woman from complaining to the authorities, even if she manages enough gumption to run away. You weren't raised to be easy to traumatize, emotionally dependent, easy to control, or to feel shame in the act of sex."

  "Shame?"

  Elegant nodded. "Oh yes. They even blame women for getting raped. The society is controlled by and organized for the convenience of men. Keep that in mind when you're out there. Not that anyone should be able to harm you."

  Curious smirked. "But remember that there are men out there who truly believe that a woman who can't defend herself is fair meat for their use."

  Mostly and Likely refused to budge from bed, so Never explored the town on her own and with the men and older witches. She saw the Governor's Palace, and the formal gardens through the iron-barred fence, and was embarrassed to realize she couldn't remember what his name was. Something with a W, wasn't it? The Temple of Ba'al was spectacular on the outside, but she was much too sensible to even think about going in.

  The Sheep Man and Harry were with her as she stared up at its gilded domes and towering spires.

  "Ba'al's not really a god." The Sheep Man told her.

  "Yes, he is, well, he's what's left of one. Trapped himself and can't get out. And he was a bad one, so we're not about to help him." Harry wrinkled his nose at the burned-meat smell the incense failed to cover.

  "He's like the worst of the wizards,” the Sheep Man sneered. "Messed up growing his nads back and turned nasty." He strolled off, eyeing the huge complex.

  Never leaned closer to Harry. “So it's true wizards cut their own nads off?"

  "Yep. And they eat them. Can't learn wizardry if they're distracted by women. Once they've learned, they run around like idiots trying to grow new ones. Or used to. There aren't any wizards anymore. Or, no new ones, anyway."

  "Somehow that doesn't surprise me!"

  Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Men will do worse things for power than they will for sex. Trust me on this." His forehead furrowed. "Actually there's some scientific basis for it. The effect of testosterone on the last maturation stages of the brain . . . or something like that. I don't remember the details . . ."

  She peeked through the front gates at the oversized statue of the Wizard Ba'al who had once been a god. The upraised hands held flame, some sort of gas piped in, perhaps? The figure was both muscular and fat, with an erect phallus emerging from a cluster of six testicles.

  "Eww!"

  Men were said to sacrifice their first-born children to Ba'al, for virility.

  Some said the royal family's tradition of the first-born son serving in the army and the second son inheriting the crown was related to Ba'al worship. She walked away, wondering how such a perverted religion could become so popular. Did the god do things for his followers? She wasn't sure she wanted to know what that might be. Certainly the authorities seemed to be giving the church an awful lot of leeway.

  She kept her ears, and other senses, open as she accompanied one or the other of the women around town, to the auction house and several factors interested in semi-precious stones, then to make their purchases, the salt they needed for pickling and preserving, the iron they'd turn into nails, horse shoes and hinges; lead, copper and tin they'd melt into brass for buckles; or shape into pots and pans. Metal was of the deep earth; and witches could do with it as they wished. With her new ability to channel, Never could feel the potential in the ingots, just waiting to be powered and shaped. She was not just feeling things, but understanding them better. Maybe because she was advancing magically, but just growing up might have something to do with it. She could feel people more strongly as well, hear the surface thoughts of the non-magical people about them. She got used to the men's sexual arousal near her, and the deep-seated anger and hatred some had for women. The caution and deference of some women, and the deep-seated anger and hatred some bore for a man, or all men. She took an informal count, and was relieved to find the negatives outnumbered by people feeling secure and content. It was easy to overestimate the negative emotions, simply because they were more noticeable. She wondered if everyone at home would feel different, now.

  They left the following morning, everyone's business concluded, the boys surfeit with candy from the markets and the sights of glassblowers, blacksmiths, marching soldiers in fancy uniforms, and houses crammed together, street after street. The guards on the gate were checking outgoing wagons today, many more than she'd noticed on the way into town. They checked their pass against their numbers and passed them through.

  As the wagons creaked back into motion, she overheard one man speaking. “. . . doubt we'll ever catch those murdering whores . . . "

  She glanced at Likely and Mostly. They were in their best outfits, their second-best dresses having not survived the night of the fire. They both looked the picture of proper young daughters of a prosperous merchant. Curious had insisted on pulling their hair back severely. Squinting at them, Never rather thought there wa
s a bit of glamour there, altering the color slightly, pointing a chin . . . She wondered how many had died in the fire, and whether the two mercenaries were among them.

  Once clear of town traffic, she asked Curious.

  "Oh, now don't fret, dear. The girls may have precipitated the situation, but it would have happened sooner or later. In all that confusion, a couple of the whores got their revenge on the brothel master, and a couple of the customers." She looked demurely at her fingernails, then over at the Auld Wulf in the wagon behind them. "I expect they'd like to come out now, don't you think?"

  The old man started laughing, and steered his horses to the side of the road. Harry looked back and stopped, and the Sheep Man as well.

  "Or were you going to keep them secret all the way home?"

  "Ah, I figured they'd probably prefer to head down south." He shrugged and lifted one of the huge salt barrels. The girl curled up under it squeaked in alarm, scrambling stiffly up. The next barrel proved to be equally full of girl instead of salt.

  Never blinked. "You two can't be whores. You're younger than I am." But on second glance they'd had hard lives, and their mouths were tight and desperate.

  Curious stepped up to them. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Curious. I'm sure the Auld Wulf has introduced himself. These are Never, Mostly and Likely. Elegant and Delight. Harry and the Sheep Man. Tivo, Theo, Fossi and Fiber."

  They looked half-starved, and were short and thin, nearly shapeless. Nearly naked, too, standing huddled together in short shifts.

  Never shook herself, broke her stare. “Well, why don't we share out some clothes while we drive on?"

  She grabbed a water skin, and both girls drank thirstily. "Thank you for getting us out of town." The brown-haired one looked around nervously. The girl with the raven-black hair nodded. They were shivering a bit in the cool spring air, and Likely dug out a pair of blankets while Mostly pulled out the loaves they'd bought for dinner.

  Never dug into her bags and pulled out two light undergowns. They'd be too long, but they were as good a place to start as any. "How about a wash first? You two are pretty smoky smelling."

  Cleaned, dressed, and fed, the two girls finally admitted to names, Zammara Kitha and Chocatti Midglecek.

  They camped a bit early, and away from other travelers. Never kept an ear on the conversation as she washed dishes after dinner.

  "You're from the Isles, Zammara? And Chocatti must be a Veronian name." Curious was patiently hemming the gowns, a bit awkwardly with the girls still in them.

  "Yes'm. I don't really remember the Isles, though, just my father's boat." The black-haired Zammara blinked away a tear.

  The brown-haired girl nodded. "My uncle's a merchant. He made some bad trades, and got into money trouble, about three months ago, I figure." Her fists balled up. "I didn't figure a brothel would want me, but they dress me up like a little girl, in the kind of clothes a noble daughter would wear, and they, and some men . . . "

  "That's sick!" Mostly sat down in front of them. "If I had known, I'd have set the place on fire, on purpose."

  That got their attention. "You did that?" Chocatti giggled, the first sign of softening Never had seen in the girls.

  Zammara craned her neck to look at the men, out of earshot away from the fire. "Are you married to them?" Her eyes shifted from the older women to the younger as they all shook their heads.

  "No, little ones," Delight smiled over at them. “We don't marry, and we don't fear men. We own ourselves, and do as we please. You are free; we don't keep slaves. In fact that's supposed to be illegal, but find some man that will defend a girl after she'd been abused . . . Well, other than those three perhaps! I recommend that you come with us until at least next year. People will have forgotten about you by then, and most likely you'll have filled out a bit and look different as well. You'll be free to go anywhere you like."

  Curious finished the last stitch and tied it off. "There, now you won't trip, even if the sleeves are still too long." She clucked her tongue. "You'll need an overgown though."

  Never hesitated, then fetched her best skirt. "How about this?"

  "Ah, thank you, Never. You always have been generous."

  Zammara leaned forward and stroked the deep green velvety fabric. "That's very fine." she looked worried. “Do you mean to give it to us? We can't repay you."

  "We make the fabric, up in the valley, you can help us, if you stay the winter," Never shrugged. "I'll make another skirt. This one doesn't have any embroidery, so it's easiest to take apart and make into something else. What do you think, Curious? Can we get a couple of long vests out of it?

  So two days later, when they rolled back into Ash, the girls were decently dressed. With a warning look at the Auld Wulf, Curious shepherded them into her own home, her granddaughter Opinion jumping up and down in excitement at the prospect of two new friends.

  ***

  Bail stood on the crest of the pass and gazed across miles and miles of rough mountain terrain.

  "All right. Lefty, here's your chance to escape from the witches. I need you to find the end of the Old Road, so we can aim at connecting to it, somewhere, somehow.”

  "You've got it, Captain." Lefty shot a last wistful glance in the direction of Ash, and started onward, on foot as usual. He hopped from boulder to boulder with fluid ease, and was out of sight in moments.

  "Never did get him to talk about exactly why he needed to get away from the witches," Gruff muttered.

  "Can't be worse than your orgy, can it? And I think I bedded a witch. Or maybe I just hallucinated it. Damn, that was some wine."

  "Yeah. I grabbed a bottle on the way out, in case I ever needed it." Gruff eyed him sidelong. "He grew back all his missing parts, you know, like a lizard regrowing a tail, he says."

  Bail whistled. "If you could get anyone to believe you, you could sell that bottle for a king's ransom. Now, let's get back to work. You can see from the debris fields where the runoff flow was. Not too high, up here, but we can't ignore it, either. If we break up the boulders, pack down all the debris on that side, the water will all channel over here. We'll need to bridge over the outlet down there . . . "

  He loved these high mountains, the clear air. And engineering, straightforward and clear, with no magic about it.

  The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet. "Heads up! Look for rocks!" he bellowed, spinning in place. A few rocks bounced down, but nothing large or close. He walked back to where he could see the laboring troops. They were all looking around too, but everyone seemed to be all right. Another week and he'd have a decently surfaced wagon trail all the way up here, And probably all the way through the pass before the winter storms shut them down. He could work on improvements on the lower parts until winter proper shut them down, or the king recalled them.

  Chapter Seven

  Late Spring 1352

  Village of Ash

  "Miss?"

  Never looked up from scrubbing the tables in the tavern. The butcher and the miller, instead of taking a table as usual, were walking toward the kitchen door. And of course, not using a name for a female. Mages! Well, she could do the same. "May I help you?"

  "We'd like to talk to Harry. Is he about?"

  "I think so, let me check." She knew perfectly well that he was out back supervising his kids stacking the firewood they'd need next winter. But if they were going to be formal, she could be even stiffer.

  She ducked through the kitchen and out the back door. "Harry? Beck and Coo are here, being all Front Door and Polite."

  "Ah, probably about the boys." He shrugged and headed in.

  Never hesitated long enough to count heads. Four. They were unloading wood from the cart, Harry's ancient dun gelding waiting patiently for them to finish. Where was Oscar? She hustled through the kitchen and peeked out to watch the meeting.

  "Harry, Bran hasn't been seen for eight days, and we understand that Oscar has gone too." Beck Butcher was a large man, pale-skinned with reddish blond hair.


  "Yes, they took to the road. Boys do grow up." Harry shook his head, ruefully. “I never get used to it."

  "Which way did they go? Can you bring them back?" Coo was also fair, if not so reddish, nor so large.

  "North, for the Fort. They were on the road with a purpose and a destination, I can't change that, only protect them." Old and gnarled, Harry ought to have been dwarfed by the other men. But their deference, their tendency to lean away from him made it clear which way the dominance ran.

  "What are they doing?" Coo continued. "Harry, I think that boy of yours got Fava pregnant."

  "And my son Bran had better be prepared to marry Juli." Beck nodded decisively.

  "Ah." Harry nodded his understanding. "That explains the timing. But it's no use blaming the youngsters. Go complain to the Auld Wulf and Lady Gisele. We'll all just have to shrug and deal with it."

  "Running away is not dealing with it."

  "They are all four too young to marry and start families." Harry scratched his neck stubble. "So we adults will pitch in and help. Boys that are immature enough to run away are also too immature to support a wife and baby. They've enlisted. They can grow up in the Army, learn something of the world, and if they come back, they may be good enough for Fava and Juli. In the meantime, if there are problems with the family, either or both girls are welcome to come here."

  "My daughter is not about to become one of your strays, Harry!" Coo glared, but shuffled back a bit at Harry's raised brow.

  Beck shook his head. “Harry's right. No matter what those boys did with their pricks, they're not old enough to be fathers. "

  Harry snorted. “Why the fuss over the two girls? It’s not like you mages to be so virtuous. Didn't the girls lose their virginity on their sixteenth birthday?"

  Beck frowned. "Coo and I were the only surviving mages after the Auralian War. We had to marry out. Even though our sons aren't very strong mages, some of our grandchildren are, and all of our great-grandchildren should be. However, we need to be very careful about who marries whom, now. We were trying to make the girls wait until suitable boys had grown up. And for boys, that means at least eighteen, so they've come into their power."