by Pam Uphoff
Dydit dropped the bay's lead rope and grabbed his sword, wheeling to form up on Nil who booted Choc into the middle of the charge.
Despite the screaming, the Auralians had fair discipline, keeping a line, and with groups assigned tasks. A pair of axe wielders were obviously designated to immobilize the wagons. Nil ignored them and hit the center of the charge, using his horse as a weapon, deflecting the Auralians traditional hooked halberds with his sword and trampling the bearers.
Except the stupid horse jumped over a man he'd knocked flat, and Nil cursed and vaulted off. Not a trained warhorse.
Dydit wished he had a longer weapon as he leaned and chopped, and finding himself spending more time protecting the horse than inflicting injury, he spun her out of the melee and jumped off. He went after the ax men, ducking a swing and lunging as if he had a rapier. Against the unarmored Auralian it was effective, and he jerked the sword loose. Realizing that this just wasn't the way he was meant to fight, he dropped down the hill, away from the battle, out of sight, pulling off clothing as fast as he could.
When he charged back up the hill it was a whole different story. He dropped his horns and rammed an Auralian from the rear, twisted away from a sword, and slashed a belly open. Parried a thrust, then broke a kneecap. Ran a single horn through another Auralian, front to back, chased a fleeing warrior and tossed him down the hill. The next man knew how to use his halberd, catching a horn, but Dydit twisted and slammed his body against the man, knocking them both down the hill. He was loose when they hit the road and he twisted his head and stabbed one horn under the breastbone and up into the heart. He jerked loose and looked around for more. There weren't any. Nil had a pile around him. A rattle from up the hill showed where the few survivors had gone, and he charged halfway up the ridge and then slowed and started stalking them.
A footstep behind him was Nil. He was covered in blood, but most of was Auralian. Pity. Two of the caravan guards were with him.
He followed the warriors by smell and magic and reached their hidden campsite a few minutes behind them. They were still jabbering in their obscene lingo when he charged in to demonstrate just what they'd been babbling about. Not that there were many there. They had a goodly collection of slaves and loot, though.
Nil had to threaten one of the caravan guards to keep them from raping a couple of the frightened girls. Virgins. He wondered if any of them worshiped Ba'al. Nil dropped a cold eye on him and he slunk away to find his clothing and reemerge to help the wagon train deal with injuries and, then help bring down the rescued captives and loot.
An Imperial troop came along in time to take charge, and figure out how to transport the rescued captives. The two girls were Westerners and could drop names known to the wagon master and were taken with them as soon as their wheels were repaired. The three young boys, probably the most valuable—to the Auralians—of the prisoners had been cut already, and were Veronian subjects anyway. So the troops pondered their disposition, or whether they should just be put out of their misery. Nil gave them each a cup full of his special wine, and argued with the troopers.
In the end, they rearranged their supplies, the part of the recovered loot they claimed as prize money, and tossed the three boys on the pack mare.
"I'll find something better than a damned slit throat for them." Nil snarled. "Veronians must have some way to deal with orphans."
The three boys eyed them warily. The youngest appeared to be about four years old. He looked Dydit straight in the eye for a long moment, then took his thumb out of his mouth and said, "How do you turn into a goat?"
By nightfall they were Uncle Goat and Uncle Sheep. Dydit refused to demonstrate at least three hundred times, and Nil had failed to convince them that he only herded sheep, and had never, ever turned into one.
They had no further trouble in the mountains and reached Negati just over the border of the Empire of Verona in the middle of a freezing rainstorm.
"I thought it was nearly summer." Dydit complained, huddling under an inadequate cloak.
The old man had draped a poncho over the boys and seemed to be enjoying the cold shower. "We're still really high, and it's not summer yet.
He had papers from a succession of Imperial Posts, and a note from the commander of the troops about the loot and boys.
The gate guards gave the boys a pitying look. "Sweat shop, most likely. If the judge is corrupt, they'll end up in a brothel. Some like the neuters, you know."
Nil took the instructions on how to find the city courthouse to dispose of the boys. Dydit could hear his teeth gritting.
Once Nil'd remounted, and ridden out of the guards' hearing, Rotic, the oldest of the kids at eight, peeked out from under the poncho. "You don't have to take us to the courts, we'll just leave."
"Do you have anywhere to go, Sport?"
Heads shook all around.
"Well, let's find an inn and get some dinner, then."
Dydit glared. "You can't keep them."
Nil looked around in surprise. "Why not?"
"We're . . . I mean, you, are going to Scoone to hunt down your worst enemies, remember?"
"It'll be another three months or so. That wine's got a powerful healing potion in it. The boy's'll get all their parts back and we'll find some place for them. Stop worrying."
"Oh. I wondered about that wine."
"The Auld Wulf and Lady Gisele mixed it up between them. Probably while they were drunk."
Dydit sorted through goaty memories and found some frightening associations. "Old Gods!"
"Exactly."
Nil steered them into a rather disreputable part of town, and an inn with a stable behind it. "Anyway, I have a plan for getting into Scoone."
"Would you care to share it?"
"No. I haven't finished thinking it up yet."
Chapter Fourteen
Early Summer 1353
Town of Tehat, in Auralia
Jin Genero surveyed the ragged remains of the army of Duke Rivolti and was not impressed.
Mind you, Jin wasn't about to turn around and try to make it back across the desert. He was quite certain that while the Duke could throw himself on the King's mercy and survive, the Duke's officers that had lived to be captured had probably been hung. And a courtesy 'lieutenant', the youngest son of the Duke's Captain of Horse, without much of anything to command before the rebellion, would no doubt join them.
Four of the Duke's six 'advisors' had escaped, and had led the surviving troops across the desert. Only the unseasonable rainstorms had gotten them to these southern mountains and signs of civilization.
This particular sign of civilization was a small town, the fife of a minor Solti, one of the Auralian nobility. The town of Tehat, the mines and the tiny strip of farmland was the entirety of his holdings.
The Solti had depended on the desert for protection from raiders, a bunch of club wielding slave drivers to keep order among the mine workers, a small constabulary for the town, his personal guards for his own safety and some, theoretically, tough mercenaries to protect shipments of ore. Theoretically, because they'd been away when the (half starved and wholly without inhibitions) remains of the duke's army had hit the town.
A bit of disruption in the mines to keep the guards there busy, and they'd been through the town and killing the Solti's guards before the head constable had realized there was a problem.
Now Jin waited with those few troops and listened to the confrontation on the other side of the wall. The civic leaders of Tehat had sent an emissary, the new head constable.
The new head constable was treading warily, where the Westerners were concerned, and concentrating on the situation with the miners. "We've got the rioting under control, but they're still murdering any overseers they find. We need to know . . . what you are going to do about them." The situation at the mines had gotten completely out of control, and was close to causing more problems than the guards possibly could have.
Half the slaves and most of the slave drivers and mine fo
remen were dead. Perhaps half the constabulary were dead as well. All the Solti's guards, and of course, the Solti himself.
The remaining mine slaves were a substantial force.
From his position, Jin's couldn't see Duke Orgaphos, where the man sat on the Solti's rather ostentatious throne. The man. By now he was quite sure he should be saying, the wizard. The duke's 'advisers' had settled in, in the Solti's palace. Orgaphos had shaken out as the leader, with his two brothers' support. Odd man out, Neet was a bit sour about it. Jin expected another falling out soon enough. Probably fatal.
"Do about the mine slaves?" Orgaphos let the question hang. "Well I suppose I could hire them to reopen the mines. And fill out my troops a bit."
Clen straightened indignantly at that. His father's lieutenant, Clen Daure, had been appointed Captain of Horse. Clen had the experience Jin lacked, and held what scraps of loyalty the survivors still possessed. There were only thirty-two of Duke Rivolte's men left, in a town of about a thousand. Including the former mine slaves.
Filling out the ranks seemed like a good idea to Jin, but the mine slaves?
The new head Constable shifted nervously. "Without the mines, this town will dry up and blow away. The only water we have is what the deep mines pump out."
"Ah." Orgaphos apparently liked hearing that.
"We, we have to treat the water, run it through crushed limestone before it goes on the fields, and for drinking, we distill it. We've been protecting the water works, but with the mines not pumping for the last week . . . we're going to be desperate real quick."
"Very well." Orgaphos sounded as if he'd made his decisions. "Someone will give my assistants a tour of your water system. Someone will notify the mine slaves that I'm hiring, and that I actually can give them what they want."
The head constable recoiled from something out of the range of Jin's vision.
"I am Duke Orgaphos of Fire Cliff in Scoone. I have been enchanted for a thousand years, but now I am back, with all the powers of a Wizard of Scoone. Tell them that men who work for me will regrow their private parts."
The head constable was recoiling even further.
"Send the guide this afternoon. Tell your gelded mine slaves to come tomorrow morning. Now go."
The constable left hastily.
"Jin, come out here."
Jin had the unfortunate distinction of knowing how to read, write, figure and keep records in any of three languages. This put him into more contact with the wizards than he really wanted.
"I don't trust that idiot to tell the miners. Write out placards and have them posted about."
"Yes, sir." He'd already located the Solti's secretary's desk with its writing supplies.
Jin got to work on the placard. Five hundred mine slaves were about to become the wizards' most loyal subjects. Because if the Auralians recaptured them, they'd be castrated all over again.
***
The King's Magician rode into Ash in the late spring.
The grass was green, wildflowers bloomed everywhere. Sheep, cattle, and horses grazed. There was a fuzz of green on the plowed fields. A more beautiful or peaceful sight would have been hard to imagine. After ten days in the saddle, the old man thought the tavern came close.
The tavern owner had strolled out into the street as their horses climbed the slight hill the village perched upon. The King's magician sighed in relief. All winter he'd argued with himself, doubted what he'd seen. But here it was in front of him. One of the old gods.
"Magus Rex! Welcome to Ash."
Selano Discorski laughed at the old title, or rather the title in the Classic Scoo tongue. "Harry! Good to see you again." He swung down stiffly from the saddle and stretched. "Can you put us up for a few days?"
"Of course." Some boys erupted from the tavern, one of them a regrettably memorable brat, and took the horses as his escort dismounted. They cleaned up and tucked into a delicious meal brought out by some witches. Ones he didn't recognize. He wondered a bit how many there might be total. Could they actually have a complete pyramid?
"So, are you headed for Fort Stag? They have the Old Road open well past the Fort now."
"No, Harry, I've come looking for the only magic users I know." He shook his head and frowned. "There's trouble brewing. I don't know what."
Harry scratched his jaw. "There no trouble of any size on the roads. Maybe overseas?" he stepped to the door of the kitchen. "Tivo, run down to the Mill and ask Coo to come up. Piph, trot down to the Butcher's and ask Beck to step around."
The old wizard caught his breath. More old gods? Or maybe more wizards? "Not calling in the Sheep Man?"
"He's traveling, just reached Verona, in fact." Harry frowned. "He's got four boys to take care of. One of them a bit old to learn any better, but there always hope, isn't there?"
"Always. The king would also like to know what happened with the army of Ba'al. He knows he's going to have trouble with them. We were blindsided by the size of the army she could raise, and that they were so well trained."
Harry nodded, "I'll, umm, talk to the others . . . " he broke off as a man stomped in. The butcher , by his dress.
"Harry?"
"Ah, Beck. This is Selano Discorski, the King's Magician."
The butcher stared at him, then turned and walked out.
Harry's eyes twinkled. "I love dropping bricks like that."
The butcher walked back in, accompanied by a rather floury man. The miller, no doubt.
The King's Mage did a double take. "Coo Hasenski?" he leaped to his feet and grabbed the man. "Coo?"
"Selano? I thought you were dead!" Coo grabbed him and started laughing. "I keep hearing about the King's Magician—but never heard a name mentioned. I just figured it was some half talent keeping up the Royal Prestige. I should have checked." He glanced around the room, "Come down to the Circle, won't you?"
They walked down the street, chattering. They'd married, in the way of Mages, had kids and grandkids. "We've been hoping for Storm Mages in the next generation. We have some very promising boys."
"Including my Bran, in the Army," the butcher growled.
Selano blinked. "Of course. Good grief, I just thought it was being around witches and . . . other things, that made those three boys so knowledgeable about magic. Bran's . . . just coming sixteen, isn't he? His talent should be evincing soon . . . Oh. My."
They had a proper Circle set up in a clearing in front of a huge barn, and he could feel the other Circle inside the barn—for the secret ceremonies.
"I've been alone for so long. I'd forgotten what a proper Compass feels like." He closed his eye and luxuriated, standing on the southern point. Coo took the north, and Beck, a very strong Blood Mage took the west. The magic circled around spiraling up into the sky. He felt more men joining the circle, until eight of them stood there. He felt the nick on his wrist, reached and nicked his other wrist himself. Hand to Hand. Blood to Blood. He could feels the winds and the air masses, the storm out over the sea. So far. He could bring them here . . .
It was with the greatest reluctance that he spiraled back down and let the winds go.
"I don't want to ruin your crops." He took a deep breath, another. Old gods! He felt young again.
The other men all had a strong resemblance to either of the top mages, and sometimes both. The Mage Wives scurrying about around them were also obviously related. They were also bringing in more food and wine.
"Wine, Water and Blood. Will you accept our hospitality?" Beck asked formally.
Old gods! Did they actually hold old fashioned orgies? "Of course."
"We have some wine you just have to try . . . " As the barn doors closed the clothing started to come off.
***
"A Traveler's wagon! I am not going to go around in a, a . . . " Dydit closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Your royal majesty jests. Ha, ha. Very amusing, your majesty."
The wagon was as decrepit as the single horse pulling what ought to have been a two horse wa
gon. The ghastly piebald, Dydit ducked his head, yes, another mare, was hitched to the far side of the wagon tongue.
"Going to hitch up your Chocolate stallion next to her? I don't think Bay or Dun has ever done anything as plebian as pull as wagon."
Nil sniffed, and unhitched the mare. "Just wait until you see the clothes I bought to go with the wagon."
He tossed the harness into the wagon, and tied the mare to the fence. The other mares came over and threatened the interloper. Chocolate looked hopeful, but stayed back to let the mares discuss things first.
"I do truly hope you are kidding." Dydit followed him apprehensively up to their cubby hole, where Nil rummaged through his saddle bags and produced the bottle of wine.
"You should save that for us. What if one of the boys needs more? What if we get hit by bandits and one of us is injured?"
The boys woke up and scrambled down to see what their Uncle Sheep had bought.
Nil hunted up a bucket and gave the mare a bare cup of the wine. "It was a bit much, last time." He stuck her right in the corral with the other horses. The mares all squared off for a dominance battle
"No. Kidding."
"I think it's getting stronger as it ages. Didn't seem so strong, back in the valley."
Dydit watched in frustration as the old wizard started rubbing his hands over the wagon. Warped wood was pressed back into place—and stayed there. The wheels straightened, the splinters disappeared . . .
As expected, the grunting and squealing started, and Nil simply ignored it all.
"You know, I stuck the mares and stallion together to irritate you. Now you're doing it on purpose. Why?"
"Because it's been peaceful as all get out since then. Pregnant mares don't come into season every month."
Dydit sneered, "Well worth the inconvenience of horses not fit to work next spring, not to mention three foals to do something with."
"Can't ever have too many horses."
"Except when you've got to pay board, shovel manure, pay a trainer . . . "
"You weren't nearly so gloomy when you were a goat."