by Pam Uphoff
Never felt a quick flick of power, was it from the Sheep Man? Particular flounced angrily away, stalking out the front door of the inn. In a town, this simply wasn't as safe as it was in Ash. Never exchanged glances with Elegant and they both followed the girl. The Moon was full, and they wrapped cloaks of indifference around themselves as they walked down the sparsely inhabited boardwalk that edged the cobblestone streets.
Particular wasn't able to cloak yet, and was probably too angry to have, if she could. She stalked down the boardwalk, and most of the men got out of her way. One richly dressed fat man didn't. He deliberately dodged to block her when she would have gone around him. She stopped then, and glared at him, pulled out of her inward contemplations.
"What's your price, pretty girl?"
Particular stiffened. "I believe you have mistaken me for someone else. Good night, sir." her voice was icy cold in its clean diction.
Two larger men closed in on either side of the fat man. Bodyguards Never thought. She and Elegant swapped alarmed looks and hastened their pace, as the fat man gestured at the large closed carriage rattling past them and slowing.
The big muscular men stepped around the fat man, took Particular's arms and heaved her through the door of the carriage as the footman opened it, a maneuver so smooth it must have been practiced. The fat man was next in, and as the door closed, Never and Elegant reached the bodyguards.
One spun with cat-like quickness, a hand whipping around Never's neck. She ripped the power from him in one huge surge, eschewing any delicacy in her haste. He dropped at her feet, and she leaped for the carriage as the groom whipped up the horses. She caught a handhold and leaped up on the footman's step as that worthy swung up to his accustomed place. Never touched his face, and his eyes rolled up in his head as he collapsed. Elegant cursed behind her as she tripped over the man, and the carriage sped up. Never couldn't reach the door from her perch, and scrambled over the top to reach the driver. As he slumped, the reins pulled from his hands and the spirited foursome took its collective head and bolted. Never cursed and scrambled, grabbed two reins and pulled. One lead horse swerved right, the rest followed and the carriage scrapped the corner of the building. She hauled again, and the horse, finding itself being turned into the building, slowed. The horse behind crowded it, the two horses on the left still wanted to run. She leaned down precariously and got another rein and pulled on it, too. The crowding mess slowed and stopped. She tied the reins she had around the narrow bench back, and scrambled down to the door. Locked. The carriage was right up against the wall of the building it had scraped. She collected all the unbroken reins she could see, and urged the horses forward and left, then halted them, reasonably neatly, this time.
The right door opened for her.
The fat man was lying on Particular. Dead. Particular was whimpering, somewhere under his bulk. It took three tries for Never, maneuvering in the awkward confines of the carriage, to pull him off of her. Particular looked . . . odd. Eyes wild and full of power, she attacked Never, hitting her with a burst of power.
Never tumbled backwards, on to the pavement, kicking off her shoes to channel the power back into the Earth. She kept her feet on the ground when she reached back in, trying to shield, and channeling what she couldn't. She jerked Particular out and sat her on the ground. "Channel, Parti. Send the power into the Earth. Open to the Earth, as if you were going to pull in power, but send it back."
She had to repeat her instructions three times before the girl started leaking power in bits and spurts, and finally in a stream as she grew into her new powers and channeled. And collapsed.
Never got her to her feet, unsteady and swaying, and wrapping indifference around them both, headed back toward the inn. The carriage driver was moaning in the street, starting to regain consciousness. Never wasn't sure whether she regretted not killing the man or not, but she certainly wished him serious complications for the night's work. Elegant found them a block later, and took Particular's other side and they half carried her back to the inn, and through the back door, up to their room. Curious and Delight joined them hastily.
"Raped. I can't believe it." Delight cradled her granddaughter.
"She was drained, then sucked in all of his power and killed him." Curious said fussing over the girl.
"In the carriage, off the ground, she couldn't pull in Earth power, nor channel it." Never hovered. She didn't like the girl's pallor.
"Either the drain or the flood could have killed her. How could he have been so fast." Elegant paced and fretted.
"He was a rapist, not a lover, dear. Probably in the habit of grabbing nice girls, raping them and tossing them from the carriage, before he ever returned home." Curious stood up. "We need to take her back outside. She needs to be in touch with the Earth."
The witches led her out past the stables, to a small creek, and laid her naked on the ground. They kept watch, and kept other people away with a spell of aversion. She didn't wake.
The Sheep Man came out at noon, and offered an almost empty bottle of wine. "Its healing power is extreme, however vexing the other attributes."
They swapped glances and Delight took the bottle with thanks.
She dribbled a tiny amount into Particular's mouth.
"Umm." Particular settled again. Another dribble, and her eyes opened. "What? What happened?" She paled. "That man, what, what?"
"He's dead, dear." Delight told her.
"I . . . he . . . " She burst into tears. "It was so fast! He was so strong. I didn't have time . . . I couldn't think to do anything!" She was sobbing now, in her grandmother's arms. "Why couldn't I do anything?"
The Sheep Man knelt down. "Because he didn't give you any time to think. He was an experienced predator, and knew exactly how to handle you."
"I should have, I should . . . "
The old man snorted. "You did. He's dead. You're alive. Winning is sometimes painful and messy. But you'll be all right." He raised his head to the other witches. "Rumor has it Duke Mevi's men are rather confused, and having trouble accounting for what happened to their master. I think we'll leave town before they've had time to recover and think."
They were out the gate by mid afternoon. A worried Brock, driving the second wagon, kept craning his head back at the witches in the last wagon. Never wondered what the Sheep Man had told him.
Particular avoided him. "Never? That's what you were talking about, weren't you? It's always like that, isn't it? It could have been Brock I killed."
Never nodded. "It's supposed to get better, that we learn how to control ourselves. But I came so close to killing the fellow . . . I haven't dared try again. So I can't really say. Maybe you could talk to Mostly and Likely. They seem to drag their couriers off to bed every time they come through the village."
Particular snorted. "Yes, I've seen them. I don't think . . . or at any rate it's going to be awhile before I'm ready to try again."
***
"You."
Dydit looked up at the witch girl, and seeing her frown, scrambled up out of the grass.
"You just lay around all day watching sheep don't you?" Opinion scowled at him.
"They're too stupid to be left alone for long. But if you're tired of eating meat and having wool to spin, I suppose I could ask Harry or Brock for a real job."
"I want you to make love to me."
"What?" he started backing away. "Deflower a witch? Do I look stupid?"
"No. You look like an arrogant male. Always looking over the women, then sneering and walking away."
"That's because I'm smart. Anyhow, you're too young. What are you? Fifteen?" he kept backing.
"Sixteen. Particular's preggers, so that means I'll be the only Crescent Moon for five or six years, the way they make us wait."
"I thought those new girls were Crescents?"
"Answer says they can advance anytime they want, as neither are virgins and they've got a decent grasp of channeling. I don't like being at the bottom of the heap."<
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"And I don't like having my brains drained, so why don't you find someone else to seduce?" He backed further.
"Because deflowering a witch is supposed to be dangerous, and you're the only one who's up to it."
"Oh, am I supposed to thank you for singling me out to fry my brain?"
"I'll try very hard to not hurt you."
He turned and bolted. To hell with the sheep.
With a scream of frustration, she ran after him. He tried dodging into the woods, but that slowed him more than her. She was catching up to him. He headed for a clearing and ran straight into the ragged bunch of men.
The five men wore the remains of uniforms, all insignia removed, and had a thin wolfish air to them. Their tired looking horses were tied to trees beyond them. They leaped to their feet, hands going to weapons.
"Excuse me." Dydit pulled himself up. "But I'm being pursued by a dangerous virgin," turning his head he could hear her getting close. "She's all yours, have fun, and all that." He eased around them as they stared. "If you want any advice, chat her up a bit and don't be hasty."
"Hold up there, fellow. Where are we, where is the nearest village?"
Opinion burst out of the brush and jerked to a halt.
The men all admired what the brush had done to her clothing.
Dydit eased back and one of the men grabbed him.
"His Lordship asked you where we are."
Dydit glared at the hand on his arm. "You have the great fortune of being in The Foothills Province, section two. You are half a day's walk south of the village of Ash, and three days east of the Governor's seat in the town of Wallenton. And may I have the pleasure of knowing who has accosted me?"
"Ha!" Opinion sneered. "You're pretty hoity-toity for a sheep boy."
"And you ought to notice that you are surrounded by men who would no doubt just love to take care of that little problem for you," he retorted.
"Could you two save the lover's quarrel for later?" the least raggedy man asked, sounding irritated.
"We are not, and never will be, lovers." Dydit looked the man up and down. "I really do hope you're not bandits. What the villagers did to the last bunch was pretty nasty. If, on the other hand, you'd like a dinner and bed, before you travel on, allow me to escort you into town. Probably the only way I'll be safe from this . . . young woman."
They all shifted a bit uncomfortably. Eyeing him.
The leader finally spoke. "I am Lord Kell of Ferris. Son of Duke Rivolte."
"Ah!" Dydit nodded his understanding. "What you need is to not go any further north, because of the three centuries of the King's Army at Fort Stag a day's journey beyond the village. Hungry, are you?"
"Yes. And I think you can help us with that, can't you?"
Opinion was staring open mouthed at the man. "Did you revolt?"
"I am my father's son." The man's teeth gritted. "Although why my father listened to those . . . and my sister is too stupid to . . . Bah! I refuse to discuss the matter with peasants."
Dydit crossed his arms. "Mind who you call peasants, when you've lowered yourself beyond honest workers." He snorted. Was he going to claim to be a Duke who herded sheep? "Since you won't want to be seen in town, why don't you . . . hmm, I know where there's a spring and clearing that you can camp in, and I'll fetch you some supplies." He turned and led off in a different direction.
"Wait a bit here, fellow."
"Oh, sorry. Did I skip the part where you threaten the young lady with a fate worse than death if I don't assist you?" Dydit waved a dismissive hand. "Consider it done."
"You really aren't a peasant, are you?"
"Certainly not. And if you're interested in a job, I highly recommend herding sheep. Lots of time to think, you know?"
"Don't pay any attention to him." Opinion scowled. "He's no gentleman."
The young Lord snorted. "And you, Miss?"
"Sister of the Crescent Moon Opinion Ideasdaut. If we're going to be formal."
The men led their horses, and he took them by as straight a path as he could to the clearing he had in mind.
"Opinion? That's an interesting name."
"My . . . family is a bit weird about names. They go through the alphabet and try to stick to themes."
The clearing was examined and found suitable.
"Don't forget to threaten the poor girl regularly, and I'll be back in an hour or so with food." Dydit lengthened his stride and hustled back to the flock, to quickly gather them up and shift them a bit, then he hastened down to the partially built 'wizards tower'. He raided a bit indiscriminately for both food and clothing, and some coin as well. Pretty damn silly to help some traitorous idiots well on their way to becoming bandits, but if they'd get Opinion off his tail it would be worth it.
Having overdone it badly, he hunted up one of the less valuable members of the horse herd, threw on an old pack saddle, added a bag of oats to his gleanings and led the gelding off to the bandits.
His Lordship was starting to threaten Opinion in truth by the time he reached the clearing. Poor sod did not know what he was doing. And damned if Dydit was going to tell him. His lordship was exactly what she needed.
The men made short work of the ham and bread, and set up a spit to roast the mutton he'd brought.
He looked over their equipment and shook his head. "You need a pot. Pots. Frying pan. What else?"
Opinion punched his arm. "Why are you helping them?"
He thought it over for a minute. "Because they need help. If someone doesn't help them they'll be bandits in a few days time." He looked over at the Duke's son. "And that is assuming they aren't already."
His lordship shook his head. "We had some coin, and we hunted. We were getting by."
"And going gradually down hill."
The man looked away, shoulders stiff.
"I've got to mind the sheep. I'll be back with some pots in the morning."
"Hey!" Opinion, jumped up then swapped a frown between Dydit and the Duke's son. She smirked and relaxed. "I'm staying."
"Figured that." He left the pack horse. If they moved, they'd need him. Maybe they'd keep Opinion, too.
The sheep were all over the place. He switched to goat form and spent a couple of hours finding them all and getting them back together, down to the stream, and into the corral for the night. Usually he would have let them graze all night, but he had some people to talk to.
Starting with the Sheep Man.
"What happened to dinner?"
"Gave it to some bandits."
"Cheaper to kill them."
"Actually they're some of Duke Rivolte's troops, lost and wandering. Seemed a shame to, to, just write them off as not worth trying to save."
Nil gave him an odd look. "How many?"
"Five. I've got them camped up at the granite spring. You need some people to mind the herds, guard the farthest ones? We're really short of people for all the animals you insist on breeding, and we'll be hurting come harvest and haying."
"Five men. Well, the valley is a bit over supplied with women, a lot of them not witches, either." He raised an eyebrow. "Put some clothes on, we'll ride into town."
The horses seemed eager for the exercise, so they made a quick trip of it.
Some of the Fort Stag soldiers were in town and there were witches all over the tavern. Figured, Opinion had missed an opportunity down here. Or maybe not, the witches tended to wait until they were twenty something, which was what Opinion had been complaining about.
Nil homed in on a rather darkish officer, from Farofo, Dydit figured.
Dydit pulled his eyes away from swaying hips heading back into the kitchen. Too dangerous. Do not even think about witches. Of course he knew them all. He'd been here for six hundred years, and hadn't he just been tempted a few times by a few of them. Yeah, and then there was that one right there. Very, very, dangerous. He pulled his brain back to what Nil was telling the officer.
"Dydit had, not a problem, but an encounter with some ra
ther desperate deserters, or survivors or whatever you want to call them, of Duke Rivolte's troops. How badly does the King want them? Given my druthers I'd as soon just put them to work. Do you have any orders?"
"Rivolte's men all the way up here?" The captain sniffed a bit. "It seems the Duke was under the influence of some wizards—they've turned up in Auralia where they're causing even more problems. The duke is, umm, a guest of his Majesty, pretty much indefinitely. They married the daughter off to poor Lieutenant Trehem, haven't found the son yet. I'll send for instructions, and advise that your strays be pardoned as long as they keep the peace."
"Thank you, sir. In the mean time, would you have any objections to us putting them to work. No point in forcing them into banditry."
"Go ahead. I'll see that no blame attaches to you if the king wishes the traitorous troops executed."
The officer invited them to eat with him. Captain Bail Wullo was apparently not one to stand on his rank, the other man at the table was a sergeant, Gruff by name.
"Are you from Farofo, Captain?" Dydit asked.
"Yes, Have you ever been there?"
"About a year and a half ago. I still remember the Vandalla at the Two Cocks Inn."
"Old gods, I'd nearly forgotten the Two Cocks. Begging the proprietor's pardon, but it's got a better cook than Harry and his revolving witches."
A moment's silence. "What? You think I didn't notice?"
Dydit snickered at the indignant expression on the nearest witch's face, the spectacularly blonde Never. Too dangerous, stop looking you blithering idiot! If she ever finds out, you are toast.
Then he had a thought. "Have you been east of Farofo? What do you think of the way the faults have broken up the Old Road of the South?"
"Lefty's talked my ear off about them. I think I may send him off to trace them just to get him to shut up about them. I'm an engineer, not a geologist." He hesitated a moment. "It bothers me to think of the surface of the World . . . spreading and growing like that."
They ate and munched and chatted, an odd mixture of witches and soldiers. Mostly and Likely were all cozy with a pair of couriers, and even the older witches seemed be finding some attractive fellows in the crowd.