Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats

by Pam Uphoff

  The interior of the wagon was as much of a wreck as the outside had been. Again the splinters disappeared. A fold down table unwarped and polished itself, the benches, the floor. . .

  The squealing was getting loud. "I don't think the mares like each other, why don't you tie up Bay and Dun for a bit, work off some sexual energy watching, or something?"

  "That doesn't work it off." Dydit growled, and caught Bay, who was apparently very jealous.

  "Three wives is one too many, eh, girl?"

  The boys loved the wagon, and insisted on sleeping in it. His Majesty repainted it red and yellow. Bright red and bright yellow.

  And Dydit loved the clothing. He really, really hated to admit it. But he looked good in the tall black fold over boots, tan riding breeches, ruffled white shirt and black leather vest. With lots of gold jewelry.

  "This isn't real gold, is it?" Dydit examined a stick pin.

  "It might have a thin gold coating." Nil held out a rapier. "From what little I've seen of your style this seems appropriate."

  "It is the weapon of a gentleman."

  "Wear it anyway."

  "Ha. Ha."

  Nil dressed more like a pirate than a Traveler, and when they left Negate the guards looked the wagon over for stolen merchandise and bid them good riddance.

  The flashy gentleman on the flashy bay got an easy pass.

  "I want Dun back."

  "Bay fits the look better. If Bay's tied up to the wagon, every constable between here and the Scoone border will think I stole her."

  "How true. You really do the low class stupid petty criminal look well, you know."

  The Tyrant King of Scoone just grinned. And taught the boys how to drive.

  Even with Nil fixing the wagon, and the horses a lot spunkier than they ought to be it was a thousand miles across Verona and then another three hundred north to the border of Scoone.

  Their Traveler's setup was never questioned, although often searched for stolen contraband. The boys were miserable for about a week and then recovered their boyish élan and made Dydit's life unbearable. He took to scouting ahead for trouble, and Nil added riding lessons to the boy's activities. When he found out they couldn't read, the next town was scoured for slates, chalk and books suitable for children.

  The Tyrant Wizard wound up having to write them.

  ***

  Cuffe still had to stride out to keep up with the Inquisitor General. But with her pregnancy so advanced, she did need a footstool to mount her tall palomino mare. Cuffe was more than willing to be her footstool, and knelt with his knee in the right place for her boot.

  Then he mounted his own mare and followed her to the Royal Palace. The King had summoned her, as if he had the right. And she had spoken to her councilors, and they had all agreed that they must put off the confrontation.

  So she was answering the summons. And would appear to accept the king's decree.

  They were ushered into one of the smaller meeting rooms, with a businesslike table and chairs. Cuffe narrowed his eyes at this lack of formal pomp. But he held her chair and stepped back into a position of attention against the wall.

  The King, his pet mage, his older brother, eldest son, and a few scribes walked in and sat without fanfare.

  The King addressed her directly.

  "We have two matter to discuss.

  "First. At my request, Selano Discorski, Storm Mage, traveled to the village of Ash. Witnesses there corroborate your account of the attack of the Goat of Scoone. You undoubtedly removed a scourge from the face of the World. For that We thank you."

  He cleared his throat. "Second. The matter of your private army. I understand that you have dispersed it, back to the towns from whence you gathered it. That you were able to so quickly assemble three thousand trained soldiers, and field them with organized logistics, again with so little time allowed, is . . . alarming.

  "You will not recruit any more soldiers. You will not ever assemble groups larger than thirty souls without first notifying Us and receiving Our permission. You will swear allegiance to the Royal Family. You will give us guarantees of your loyalty."

  He sat back and stared at her.

  The Inquisitor General, Wife of Ba'al, bowed her head in acquiescence. "In our outrage and horror, we overstepped our bounds when we received word of these monsters. Even yet it is not at an end. There were eight Black Goats of Scoone. We have received word of them, of the atrocities they continue to commit. It seems that they can assume the shape of men. We beg your permission to kill them when we encounter them.

  "As for our loyalty, I have spoken to my councilors and made the position of Ba'al very clear. While the Church as a whole places Ba'al above all else, none-the-less we are all mortals, living in the world, and our second loyalty must lie with the country of our birth." Her eyes slid to the mage. "Or where we have made our home."

  She straightened her shoulders, and hesitated, gripping the edge of the table for a long moment. Cuffe held his breath, was it time? Oh surely not here! She took a deep breath and relaxed. "My troops, and in fact all the worshippers of Ba'al, here in the Kingdom of the West are at your command, as am I. I am your subject." She stood and bowed over her huge belly. "Your Majesty."

  "Thank you, Inquisitor General. You have my permission to field groups of soldiers up to thirty total, including officers and support, to hunt and kill the Black Goats." He leaned forward. "That is not permission to kill people indiscriminately. Anyone you kill had better be obviously part goat. Should you so desire, you may study the two my Army has slain. The Storm Mage has the bodies."

  He narrowed his eyes as the Inquisitor General again gripped the table. "I had not realized your time was so close. You may go now."

  She bowed, "Sire." And turned and walked out awkwardly. Cuffe didn't have trouble keeping up with her this time. She had to stop three times before he helped her mount. She gripped the pommel of the saddle, and he led the golden mare carefully back to the Grand Temple.

  The Inquisitor General labored the rest of the day, and well into the night before delivering a squalling baby boy. Exhausted, she held the baby tenderly. Bald, red, wrinkled, very male. "Ba'al has sent this baby to me, so I will not give it back. He will grow up to be the greatest warrior to ever serve the Temple." She raised her head to stare at her Councilors. "Hear the decree of Ba'al. All first born sons are his. They will be raised to his service, and will lead the greatest Army in the World."

  "We hear and obey the words of Ba'al." they intoned together.

  A week later, in a dedication ceremony, the Holy Child's testicles were burned on the altar.

  ***

  Cadent was the capital city of Verona. In the last six hundred years it had grown nearly as large as Scoone. Or at any rate, Scoone when he'd last seen it, a long time ago.

  They were arrested as soon as they set foot inside the city gates.

  "Err, are you quite sure you want us?"

  Dydit shook his head. In his Traveling Pirate clothes King Nil did not do Totally Innocent very well. Probably lack of practice at being actually innocent.

  He kneed Bay up to the front of the wagon. "There's rather a lot of them," he muttered in Ancient Scoo. The guards looked pugnacious.

  "I think we'll wait for whatever they are waiting for."

  They were waiting for the platoon of Imperial Lancers that showed up, over-decorated and polished, an hour later. They escorted the wagon to the Imperial Palace, to a side wing, where Nil and Dydit were invited to "step in and have a word with General Mestski."

  General Mestski was a heavy man, with pouting red lips and the sagging eyelids of a man who regularly indulged himself.

  He rustled some papers. "My agents report that you transformed a bony nag into a healthy strong harness horse. A mare. And that she there-after had a voracious sexual appetite."

  Nil and Dydit swapped glances.

  "Err," the old wizard shuffled his feet, "I gave her a bit of a tonic, sir. Old recipe of my grandmo
ther's."

  Dydit jerked around to stare. "Your grandmother?"

  "She's good with herbs."

  The General leaned forward. "Their Imperial Majesties will reward you for anything that will result in the birth of a royal prince."

  "Err," Nil looked like he could see that this was a bad idea. "I have perhaps a bit of that special wine. I would be delighted to sell it . . ."

  "Get it. We will take it to their Majesties for their examination."

  Nil climbed into the wagon and rummaged. "You boys stay with the wagon, get some sleep. Uncle Goat and I have to go talk to some people."

  He climbed out and held the wine bottle up to the fading light. "Three glasses, maybe."

  The General looked them up and down, then led them first to a room where they were fitted into some ridiculously ornate clothing, and then to a banquet hall where hundreds of people in even more absurd clothing were dining.

  The big woman at the head of the table frowned as the General led them to her.

  "Your Majesty, the men my agents reported."

  She leaned forward, her eyes glittering dangerously. "I must have a child."

  Dydit's eyes jerked to the chair beside her. He had thought it empty at first, but a tiny hunched, shrunken, old man straightened. A bit.

  He took his eyes off the emperor, and studied instead the entertainment. Six dancing girls, in a few veils each, and six dancing boys as well. Young men actually. Their masculine assets were considerable, and framed in chains. The dancing was amazingly suggestive and he wondered if they ever actually did it in public. Maybe their nightly finale was an on-stage orgy.

  The stiff little mummy of an emperor placed his hands on the table. "Prove to me that it works, and you will be rich beyond your dreams."

  In as much as he was speaking to the Duke of Hightop and a deposed Wizard King of ancient Scoone, that was unlikely. Of course, royal promises were more likely to end in sharp pointy things than coin. Dydit had seen enough royal thanks to last a lifetime, before he'd been turned into a goat.

  "Give him a hard one." A gnarled old finger pointed at a fat man lounging beside the stage.

  What did the emperor want with a eunuch? Surely those dancing girls weren't a harem?

  Nil bowed and requested a glass.

  The emperor gestured the eunuch forward. "Third eunuch I've had this year. Poison, you know? My enemies know my weaknesses and try to poison me with virility potions."

  Ah, a taster. Probably hoping for a worthy death.

  The eunuch's fat didn't jiggle. It was mostly muscle. He glared as Nil pulled the cork and poured a half glass of the rich red wine.

  "The pants." the empress snapped.

  The eunuch's glared heated, but it dropped its pants. Its phallus was huge, lying limp and alone under the heavy belly. It picked up the glass and drained it in one long swallow.

  Down the table, titters erupted. The overdressed woman closest to the eunuch sneered and leaned over to look.

  The eunuch's eyes opened wide. His prick shot to attention and spurted.

  The overdressed woman shrieked as the eunuch grabbed her, threw her to the ground, threw himself on top, and started humping.

  "Works better if you take her clothes off!" a gentleman called. Probably her husband.

  Nil turned and bowed to the emperor. Who held out his goblet.

  "Might as well die happy," even his voice creaked with age.

  Nil poured a half glass in his, and then in the empress's glasses. They clinked them together and, rather grimly, took a swallow.

  "Oh my word!" The emperor stood, servants rushing to pull out his chair. He drained the glass. "OH MY WORD!"

  The empress's eyes got very round, and she drained hers. Then she was ripping at her clothing as the Emperor danced around in circles.

  Dydit took the bottle from Nil's grasp. If they were going to party . . . he split the dregs of the bottle between three decanters full of red wine on the side board.

  Nil joined him there. "Pity I don't have more."

  Dydit pulled the corks on two more bottles. "If that's not a contact spell, I'm an uneducated lout." He dribbled wine from the nearest decanter into both bottles.

  Nil glared at him. "You are an uneducated lout. But you're right about this. You think this is funny, don't you? As a distraction while we escape, it's rather . . . unusual." He grabbed one bottle and started circulating around the room, topping off glasses.

  Dydit hefted the other bottle and smiling, looked back at the stage. The dancing girls. They had the rosy glow of virgins, and damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of them. After all he wasn't committing rape if they were hot to trot because of someone else's spells. His smile widened. He snagged a trio of glasses, must be prepared . . .

  Further down the table people were whispering and frowning at the antics at the head of the table. The eunuch climbed up on stage and started chasing the dancing girls and throwing the boys off the stage, then the Emperor and Empress—completely naked—consummated their marriage for everyone to see. Well, that was traditional.

  As more wine was poured, the clothes started flying.

  Dydit hopped up on the stage and opened a side door, "In here girls! You'll be safe!" They ran through and he slammed it in the Eunuch's face and shot the bolt. The door shook with the impact.

  "Good heavens! How awful! Here, I have some wine that will help you to recover." He poured for them all and took a healthy swig himself.

  At some point one of them said something about wanting something bigger, and he pushed the latch on the goat box.

  At some point he managed to work the bolt with a horn and wander back out to the banquet hall.

  Empress and the Emperor will still quite busy, so he humped the overdressed woman instead. Everyone else was mostly undressed. Including the servants. The dancing boys were all over the room, apparently in high demand. The General was getting sodomized by the Eunuch. Dydit went looking for some pretty serving wenches and found several. And some ugly ones. And some noble ladies. Some twice.

  At some point Nil grabbed him and led him back to the wagon.

  And sobered him up. And shut the box.

  "I think we'd better leave," he said.

  "Right now." Dydit looked at the entrance gates. The guards had apparently invited some of the palace maids to visit. At least they were still at their posts, even though badly distracted. And out of uniform. "How did they get some of that wine?"

  "I delivered it. Here, put your clothes on."

  Dydit looked at him in disbelief. A full blown orgy, and the man had run around collecting clothing and delivering wine and maids to gate guards? No one had ever said King Nihility was normal but this was simply inhuman.

  The City Guard opened the north gates and let them out in the middle of the night. Dydit felt that compulsion spell. The old wizard king wasn't being delicate.

  "So, did we use up all the wine?" Dydit asked.

  "Nope. I kept half a bottle."

  Nil white-washed the wagon and dyed Blackberry Pie solid black the next day. There was much rushing about of Imperial Lancers and couriers, but no one looked at the white wagon. Dydit touched the paint, and realized that it wasn't really there, and made the wagon look like it wasn't really there either. He spent days trying to analyze that 'paint'.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Summer 1353

  New Lands, Ash

  Lefty left the range of old volcanoes behind and made slow progress through broken country. At times he could see layering in the ashstone, even alternating ash and lava. The volcanoes had clearly been active for centuries after the lava strips were laid down.

  He walked for days through empty desert, ashstone and lava alternating again, and cutting north he found the Old Road. There were faint clouds on the horizon. Unmoving clouds. By the end of the day they had resolved in to a pale stony ridge, much higher than usual, but his eyes were drawn to the lines and rectangles that lay just south of the road.


  A town, or rather a small village, nothing left but the foundations. He counted the layers of ash and lava overlaying those foundations. If the little layers in the ash represented years, with winter weather producing the contrasts he could see . . . the thickest sequence was several hundred years old.

  As a favored neuter in his Auralian Solti's harem, he'd had access to some really old books. Books so old they were in better shape than the poorly made recent books. Books that spoke of a World so marvelously different than this one. Were these ruins from those mystical days? When carts moved without horse or ox? When men could fly?

  Most likely he'd never know. He was at least four thousand miles from Fort Stag. He should have reached Scoone months ago. Perhaps on the far side of this oversized ridge he'd find civilization. People to talk to. Food he didn't have to kill and cook himself.

  ***

  Elegant lounged in the hammock. Her daughter and granddaughters crawled about on blankets spread out in the cool shade. Another month and they probably be walking. This daughter looked very much like her father, rich brown skin and black eyes. She wondered if Captain Wullo would come back through the village. He had been quite fun—although she didn't know how much of that had been the wine. Fortunately she, herself, had stuck with the white wine, and could at least say she'd done what she wanted to, not what a dozen interacting spells thought she ought to do

  She spotted Juli and Fava strolling, a bit weighed down with two growing babies each, and waved. "Come take a break," she called. "Justice tells me twins are three times the trouble of a single baby."

  "No kidding," Juli sat on the blanket, released her wiggling babies.

  Fava joined her. "I can't imagine what it'll be like once they start walking. The speed crawling is bad enough."

  "Goodness, look at that red hair! Your little boy is, quite coincidentally I'm sure, going to look a lot like Bran."

  Juli laughed, a sharp note under it. "Bet you can't guess Kett's father."

  Elegant scooped up the little girl, and studied her, then looked at the other boy. She sat down on the blanket with the other mothers. Despite her planning, she wasn't sure how to start. "They look just like Justice."