Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats

by Pam Uphoff

  "And eat them," Dydit made a show of licking his lips.

  "Eww!"

  The old man poked at the history book. "I'd hate to see what passes for a biology text now. I suppose I'd better tutor you in it."

  Then the two older boys blasted into the kitchen, talking nonstop about the other kids they'd met and how their horses were better than the Dry Goods Store's horses.

  At least there were two normal kids in the group.

  The stuff in the pot had somehow transformed into something edible. Which was no doubt how the old man intended to run his wine shop.

  Dydit wasn't at all sure that going into business was a good idea. Nil had simply said that they would attract too much attention if they lived in an inn, spending money while they did nothing.

  So he'd bought a totally decrepit failure of a wine shop, lock, stock and single barrel.

  Then he'd bought more barrels, and grapes, and some big glass bottles.

  No doubt the Auld Wulf had taught him all about wine making. He himself had instinctively avoided the three old gods that had settled down in Ash Valley. And the Witches. Mages too, mostly.

  Grandmother. Nil had called Lady Gisele 'grandmother'. And he rather thought that when the newly chained and magically crippled wizard king had escaped from Scoone, he had headed straight for that valley. Oh great. Wizard genes mixed with god genes.

  Why the hell had they rebelled? Why had Dydit helped? As Tyrants went, Nihility hadn't been bad. Old King Nil had taken out the main conspirators, Maleth, Raide, Mon Sant, Neet, the Org brothers, and that idiot apprentice of Maleth's—the young Duke Dydit of Hightop—wrapped them in a web of magnificent interlocking spells. Turned them into goats. And then the other fifty or so conspirators had caught him and got the chain spell on him. He had no idea how the old wizard had escaped. But instead of counterattacking, he'd simply gathered up the leashes of the transformed wizards, and walked away from the city. Forever. Until now.

  What was the old king doing here? Was he really just checking for old enemies?

  Dydit suffered from a brief moment of uncertainty when he realized how widely he'd been spreading the afore mentioned wizard mutation. Well, too late to worry. And since all religions were outlawed here, there wouldn't be any Ba'alists about, so he wouldn't be tempted. Much.

  Temptations to commit murder came fast and furious.

  They had to get a permit to paint the outside of the shop. Which involved much paperwork, and required the hiring of a painter from the Painters Guild. Apparently one was not allowed to simply paint one's own property.

  They each got a thick book every week. The Voter's guide. They got a stern talking to from the Block Warden when they failed to vote the first week.

  Reading the guide, he realized to his horror, that the citizens of Scoone voted about paving streets, how much water a household should use, and the menu of the free lunches provided to every school child. Salaries for public servants. Fines for painting one's own house. Dydit closed the book and voted randomly.

  Nil got a permit to deliver wine to Public Houses. That allowed them to keep four horses.

  Then he had to get a permit to keep a stallion, posting a bond against the dangers of A Known Public Menace.

  "You could have gelded him."

  "Even more paperwork. Something ecological involving genetic diversity. I don't think they even know what it means."

  On the other hand, the boys trooped off to school five days out of seven.

  When Dydit asked about the two days off, he received a lecture about the psychological need for unstructured time, and the need for a father to bond with his children. A Social Worker came by to check that the lack of a mother-figure in the household wasn't harming the boys.

  Nil got a permit to hire a mother-figure.

  Fortunately Vivi liked to cook. And loved the boys.

  The taxes were sickening. The fees were killing them. And they were buried in paperwork.

  They were invited to Join the Citzen's Militia.

  "Umm, you guys get together and burn wizards, right?" Dydit goggled at his neighbors.

  "Right! Due to our diligence there hasn't been a single wizard found in Scoone in a thousand years," Besty Roto puffed his chest out proudly. Dry goods, two doors down the street.

  "Umm, but if you burn wizards, err . . . "

  "Oh, we burn people when they show the faintest sign of Magical Ability. Well before they become actual wizards." Vizdy Gato was the school master.

  "If you want to join, now's the time. Next month we'll be having the big swearing in ceremony at the Citizen's Council Hall. If you miss it, you'll have to wait until next year." The third member of the delegation was the leader of the block patrol. Hetso Biny was a tall skinny old maid. Her cloth mill was the biggest business on the block; she had two steam powered looms and employed sixteen people.

  "Well, I hate to put myself forward, being so new to the block. But I'll mention it to my father-in-law." Dydit wondered how many unruly students had been found to have magical abilities. Or business competitors. "Although he's so old, you might prefer more vigorous citizens for such dangerous activities."

  "Oh no, those old folk, very sharp, very observant. We need everyone pulling together, to keep Scoone magic free."

  "How true." By the second week Dydit had somehow become the minder of the shop, while Nil made deliveries. He'd dusted off his neglected snobby side and oenologist's vocabulary—where Ancient Scoo was apparently The language to speak—and was attracting a rather upscale clientele. It was sort of fun. He was really getting worried about himself.

  He was even reading multiple newspapers. The rumors were flying about the situation in Verona. Here in Scoone, they were mostly concerned with the rumors that the Black Goat had appeared. Most of the papers were too mealy-mouthed to say the Goat had fucked the Empress. Some of them hinted that it had Done Something to the Emperor. The editorials were full of war talk, split between Verona obviously conspiring with occult powers to attack Scoone and Scoone's Duty to attack Verona before the Black Goat corrupted the entire world.

  Life was good.

  ***

  Dydit looked up as three large men entered the shop.

  "Afternoon, citizens! How may I assist you?"

  The leader of the trio folded his arms and looked around the shop. "Well old Getie's shop sure has gotten spiffed up."

  "Knew Mister Getie, did you?" Dydit forced the modern accent.

  "Oh yes. In fact we were trying to buy his shop. I was wondering how you induced him to sell."

  "Ah, my father-in-law met him in a tavern, and they got drunk together. Next thing you know, the old man is informing me that I am running a wine shop." Dydit shook his head dolefully, "I expect the old fellow will get sick and tired of it soon enough, and be glad to sell it."

  "Oh, yeah. We'll make sure of that."

  Dydit frowned. Surely this oversized fool wasn't threatening Nihility? He was an inch or so taller than Dydit, which still left him a couple of inches shorter than the old wizard—but size didn't really matter, where Nihility was concerned.

  "I expect he'll last a year," Dydit shrugged, "Two maximum."

  "We think he should get tired of it and quit a lot sooner than that. Maybe a week or so."

  Dydit blinked slowly. This could be entertaining. The idiot really was playing at being a Big Scary Man. "A week? Do you know my Father-in-law? I think you are being wildly optimistic."

  "Oh, we know how much a man values his grandchildren." This one was all puffed up, being an even Bigger Scary Man. Would the third one be the Biggest Scary Man, or the Only Sensible Man?

  Dydit thought it over carefully. He pulled out the goat box and considered it. Could he use it in reverse? Cast it outward instead of applying it inwardly? For better or worse, he supposed he was going to have to consult with the old wizard. He walked out the back door. As expected Nil was pottering with the wine, copious notes in front of him.

  "Oh most estee
med Father-in-law, there are some Gentlemen in the shop wanting to buy the whole thing, and thinking you'll sell because you care so much for your Grandchildren. Can I put that Goat spell on them?"

  "Ah. That kind of buyer." Nil tapped his fingers briefly. Then wiggled his fingers weaving a beautiful construct.

  "All right, I see you're doing something to their private parts. Something chemical? Hormonal? And that's absorbing, and that's embryonic development . . . " Dydit straightened up suddenly. "You're turning them into women?"

  "More or less. I'm not changing their sizes or faces. Just their private parts. I think they will keep quiet about their little problems."

  "If they don't we'll be burned at the stake."

  "Tsk! You wouldn't actually let yourself burn, would you?"

  "Well, I wouldn't want to, but what's that got to do with it?"

  "Boy, you need some proper magic lessons. Start by watching this."

  The old wizard stalked into the front of the shop. The oversized trio weren't able to loom, as Nil topped them by a couple of inches, but any one of them outweighed him. They leaned their weight his direction. He grinned happily and stretched out a hand. "Dear me, do call me Nilly. So, you wanted your own wine shop? Dreadfully sorry we scooped this one up before you could, but we're just not interested in selling at the moment."

  He shook the first man's hand, patted the shoulder of the second, and took the elbow of the third. "Why don't you come around again in six months and ask if we're interested in selling? For the next six months, though, you are going to have some health problems that will keep you busy, and you won't even remember that you've been by here."

  The three men blinked at him.

  "Off you go now. See you in the spring, when you're feeling better."

  The big men were ushered docilely out the door.

  "That was just hypnotism. Apart from the spell. Will they really forget they were here?

  "Oh yes, and then as the changes get far enough along to be noticeable they will be so concerned with that, they won't think about something as unimportant as whether or not they've visited a specific shop."

  "I didn't see any reversal wrapped up in there."

  "No, I'll reverse it in the spring. Probably. Six months should humble them a bit."

  "I see." Dydit frowned and examined his tasting table. Two empty bottles. He sniffed carefully at the third. "Gaf syrup. They came prepared." Dydit carried the wine to the back and dumped it.

  "You should have kept it in case one of the horses comes down with a cough." Nil commented.

  "I'd druther pay for the pure thing, that I was fairly certain didn't have any nasty additives. Hmph. I hope you don't change that lot back."

  "I need to check the sub basements of the Citizen's Council Hall."

  "Huh?" Dydit eyed the old wizard.

  "It's the only part of town where I detect any magical energy." Nil paced around the wine shop, with its tastefully displayed bottles and openers and wine glasses. "But the building is closed to anyone without a special need to be there."

  "When has that stopped you?"

  "When I didn't want to bring myself to the notice of whatever is down there."

  "Oh my." Dydit let the sarcasm show, "Common sense after all these centuries!"

  "I could try the sewers."

  "Or we could join the militia and get sworn in, in the Council Hall next month."

  Nil spun around. "You're kidding me."

  "Not a bit."

  They filed the paperwork (paid the fee), bought the uniforms (with tax), and waited impatiently for the official swearing in.

  ***

  ". . . I'm sure you care enough about your son to purchase insurance for your shop."

  Dydit paused, pastry halfway to his mouth. Yes, it was worst of the three big men who'd wanted to buy the wine shop. "Insurance? How much paperwork is involved in selling insurance?" He tried for a dumb and innocent look.

  The big man loomed suddenly over him. "In compliance with the paperwork reduction act, I've filed all the appropriate forms. Mister and Mistress Shady won't have to sign a thing."

  "Oh, how convenient!" Dydit exclaimed, and popped the last of his pastry into his mouth. I'll bet he worships Ba'al. The bully turned away and Dydit pulled out his coin purse and settled his account. He slunk around the corner and started divesting himself of clothing. The baker's delivery boy was still off on his rounds so the stable in the back was empty.

  The black goat trotted back around the corned just in time to see the bully leaving the shop. He lowered his head and charged.

  "Motherless goat! Get away from me!"

  Three passes stripped the, err, person below the waist.

  "Oh my goodness! That's a woman!" the man across the street exclaimed.

  "I'll have you for dinner, you filthy, smelly, oww!" Stupid sod had grabbed his horn and cut his fingers, hopefully badly.

  "Look, dear! No, don't look! How could a woman do such things?"

  "Stop looking at me!" the bully screamed, trying to collect his or her shreds of clothing.

  "What about his, I mean her, brothers? Are they all women?"

  Every shop keeper on the street was out now. Most of them laughing.

  Dydit made a last pass and tumbled the bully in the street. As the man, err, woman, shoved back up his butt was just too tempting.

  He took a round-about path back to the stable, and changed back into his human self and his clothing.

  Everyone was still out on the street, exclaiming and talking at the top of their voices. Dydit was chilled to see the Militia had been called out.

  ". . . rabid goat, clearly a public danger." Mister Shady was telling them.

  "They shouldn't allow people to keep male goats in the City," one woman exclaimed. "I had No Idea a goat would do something like that!"

  Hmm, as far as embarrassing and un-empowering the bully, he might have gone a bit too far. He hadn't thought anyone would be sympathetic.

  "It may have been bespelled, Mistress." The leader of the Militia had an ornate uniform, "Or, it may have been a wizard itself. You know what they say about the ancient evil wizards."

  "But," Dydit scratched his head as if puzzled. "This goat was definitely not a Eunuch."

  Heads nodded around the crowd.

  "Definitely not!"

  "Biggest goat I ever saw!"

  "Was it really a goat? The horns were awfully long and perfectly straight, they didn't curve back like goat horns."

  "Well, they twisted, a really tight twisted spiral, and the spiral was straight."

  "Like a unicorn, but with two horns."

  The Militia man was listening carefully, and two of his men were taking note. Not good. Dydit slunk off home, wondering if the enquiry would go far enough for Nihility to be questioned. He sincerely hoped not.

  ***

  At least the Council Hall was built to last. Dydit refrained from picking at the loose threads of his ridiculous uniform and stared up at the old Palace.

  "Huh. Guess there wasn't enough wood in it to burn properly." Nil muttered.

  Because it was, despite paint and some additions, unmistakably the seat of the Tyrant Wizards. Dydit had seen it often as a teenager, after his apprenticeship to Maleth. I should have stayed in Hightop. He wondered if his own childhood home still stood, or if time or the glacier of the north had destroyed it.

  Hesto Biny, in a slightly faded version of the same uniform marched up and down the ranks of her new recruits. Both of them. The City as a whole appeared to be gaining about a hundred new militia members today.

  "Just stand up tall and proud. We'll all march in single file, touch the People's Sword of Justice, line up and take the oath. Nothing to it."

  They nodded in unison, although Dydit hoped he looked less cynical than Nil.

  "There. Everyone is forming up now. Get in line." She hustled off to her own spot among the officers.

  Nil and Dydit got themselves into the middle of the line and
followed the first half into the rotunda. An amazing assortment of Militia officers awaited them. The majority were overweight, a couple in wheeled chairs, and about three-quarters women. Dydit had seen too many archery demonstrations from witches to discount female warriors. But somehow this lot didn't seem to be up to Ash standards just in mental attitude. Not surprising really, if their duties involved mostly burning the occasional eccentric old man or woman at the stake.

  The line was winding passed an elaborately uniformed man holding up a black velvet pillow holding an unsheathed sword lying beside its ridiculously over decorated scabbard.

  Dydit choked, and poked the old man. Nodded at the sword. People's Sword of Justice my ass. That's the enchanted sword of the Archwizard. He gulped faintly. That glows when touched by the magically talented. It had been a long time since his own chubby hand had touched that hilt and received a bright flash of confirmation of a powerful future ahead of him, once he got past the short term pain . . . He looked around suddenly, where had Nil. . .

  Nil hadn't gone anywhere; he'd pulled all of his magical senses and left nothing at all showing. Dydit did likewise, sucking it all in tight, giving himself a blazing headache. His hand touched the hilt and he shuffled onward after the old woman in front of him. He relaxed slowly, started looking around magically. Nothing else of a magical nature that he could spot.

  He mouthed the words of the oath. "To protect the People of Scoone from the pernicious influence of Magic and Religion." No problem. If he ever saw a pernicious influence . . .

  Hetso congratulated them and then turned back to her fellow officers, and the last living Tyrant Wizard warped the light around himself to disappear from sight, with a lesser Wizard Lord following his example.

  They followed the sword back to its display case, and strolled invisibly through the little basement museum until they were left alone there.

  Nil quickly dug through the cupboards and found piles of swords that hadn't been considered good enough to display.

  "It doesn't have to actually match." Dydit pointed out.