Wine of the Gods 1: Exiles and Gods

by Pam Uphoff

  By noon the next day they were trying to follow the largest streams through a delta covered with head high grasses and reeds.

  The streams merged gradually into a broad powerful river, and just upstream they found Cairo.

  In Cairo they found religion.

  Chris eyed the twin ziggurats askance. They weren't huge, but they towered over everything else. Looking out across the broad river, the delta, the cliffs that ended the greenery so abruptly, he rather thought that this town was well named. It was the largest town yet, easily double the size of Tripoli. They were farming the east side of the river, and the town was on the east bank, up on a rocky hill. The ziggurats were at the top, with a plaza in between, centering a regular grid of roads. There were no walls around the town. They had sailed pasts hundreds of miles of desert before reaching the delta. The desert must be enough of a barrier to allow control of predators in the valley.

  By the time they’d cruised up river to the docks, two men were waiting for them, with a crowd of onlookers staying well back.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Massa Harry.”

  Harry blinked. "Drat. One of them had red hair, the other one was blonde. They'll be nearly impossible to tell apart, bald." He raised his voice to carry across the narrowing strip of water. “Barry and Edmond. Figures you two would stick together.”

  “The Sigma brothers, forever together, forever at war. Welcome to Cairo, fellow God.”

  Chris tossed bumpers over board, and leaped out to tie off the boat without any attempt on the part of either brother to help. Harry stepped onto the wharf and looked the brothers over. Chris thought they both looked like they’d been lifting weights, and as if they ought to have gone easier on the food as well.

  “I hope you remember that it was meant sarcastically, when they called us that.” Harry sounded a bit disturbed.

  “Oh, we remember. But it’s such a lovely idea, we’ve decided to keep it.” The one on the left spoke.

  The other one grinned. “Isn’t that what every country needs? A benevolent God and an Evil God? I’m Barry, the God of Virtue.”

  The first one snickered. “And I’m Edmund, the God of Vice. Very fitting, don’t you think? Come on up, we’ll treat you to a welcoming feast suitable to the God of . . . Travel, I think would fit.”

  "Absolutely not!"

  “Oh yes, very nice.” Barry turned and faced the crowd. His voice rolled over them as if amplified. “Our brother God, Harry, the God of Travelers honors our City with his presence. Prepare a feast!”

  The crowd cheered and started breaking up.

  Chris grabbed luggage and followed Harry, hanging well back. The brother gods were getting his hackles up, and he'd just as soon not draw their attention. He’d felt a lot of spells flowing out with the speech. Are these self-appointed Gods controlling their subjects with magic? The thought sent a chill down his spine. They're not really gods, but they could be damn realistic tyrants.

  ***

  The party started quickly, with tables being carried out into the plaza with practiced ease.

  A horseshoe of large ones, with covers and flowers and big chairs went up on a raised platform in the middle of the plaza.

  “How often do you have feasts?” Harry watched the people, scampering to obey and felt sick.

  “Once a month, minimum.” Barry grinned. “Everyone has a great time. See? Everyone brings food, the store keepers set up booths. Musicians. We’ve figured out how to brew beer – or something close enough. And wine. We’re using magic to control the process, and did you know you could change the time ratio on bubbles? We can get it from ten thousand to one all the way to one to twenty, the other direction.”

  “Speed aged our first wine.” Edmund looked smug. “Damned good stuff.”

  “You have grapes?” Wolf’s first small harvest had been just a couple of weeks ago, his first wine still in big glass jars, fermenting away.

  “We used every fruit we could get our hands on. Peaches and cherries, wild stuff growing on the delta and up the valley. Everyone just loves it.”

  Harry eyed the two ziggurats. “I thought Michael was here, too.”

  Edmund waved the thought away. “The God of Just Deserts was not simpatico. We made him go away.”

  “Damned dogs. I don’t like dogs that smart. I think he stole them. ” Barry scowled and Edmund laughed.

  Barry gestured at the northern ziggeraut. “Come and see the Temple of Virtue. Most of our fun is out of doors, so it’s actually quite basic. Throne room, spa, bedroom, servants quarters.”

  Harry climbed the steps and wrinkled his nose at the throne, set up on a raised dais. “Servants? Look, it’s all well and good to show off a bit with your skills, but surely you aren’t really setting yourselves up as gods?”

  “Why ever not?

  Harry eyed the walls. "How did you build this, anyway? I don't see any seams."

  "Magic." Barry grinned. And squeezed the arm of the stone throne, molded it like putty.

  Harry felt what he did, pure applied power, no silly rhymes here.

  "Ah, Sylvia, our guest needs a bath before the feast, and, I think, a touch of your healing magic.”

  “Healing? Are you a doctor?” Harry eyed the young woman. Mid twenties, perhaps, slender apart from the obvious pregnancy. Green eyes, blonde hair.

  “Massage therapist. Now that I’ve learned how to call up the magic to help, I can fix all sorts of things. Your shoulders look tense, and you’re limping. How about a quick shower, then I’ll work on all that, then a nice long soak.”

  All the tightness and pull in the deeply scared leg relaxed under her kneading fingers, and the itchiness in the chest scar faded away. He nearly fell asleep, until her touch became seriously intimate.

  “You have scars here, as well. An old surgery, like the other gods had. All fixed now. Why don't you take a long soak until the feast is ready.” She moved away before he embarrassed himself by finding out if she was being professional or seductive.

  He tried to relax in a tub sized for company, but his brain kept conjuring up thoughts of magic as a force of coercion. He gave up, and climbed out of the steaming water.

  Clean clothes turned out to be tunic and toga. Mixing their Mythos a bit, aren’t they? I do hope there aren’t any gladiatorial contests planned.

  No, just acrobatics, music, food, way too much wine that went straight to his head and then parts south and Harry found himself deep into what looked like a city-wide orgy as a pretty young woman refilled his cup then climbed all over him. It was dark, torches were guttering, the woman was eager . . .

  ***

  They all ignored Chris. He carried the bags silently. And gazed wistfully at the beauty who was rubbing Harry down with scented oils. And spells. He saw Harry's eyes narrow, as he analyzed what the woman was doing. Chris listened in, mentally, but it just didn't make any sense at all. Harry was nodding like he understood. Chris sighed, and decided this was when he ought to duck out and leave Harry alone with the babe.

  There'd been quite a few teenagers out there, helping set up for the party. He ought to clean up himself, and track them down. See if they were learning magic, too. When the woman led Harry off to another room with a steaming hot pool about the size of a Jacuzzi, Chris nipped back into the first room and took a shower. Washed clothes with the scented soap and dressed in his last clean outfit. His 'good clothes' in fact. He shook his head over the state of Harry's clothes and washed them too. Then he laughed at the heap of wet stuff. He rolled it up awkwardly, threw it over his shoulder and humped it back down to the boat.

  A dozen teenagers were drooling over it. He gave them a tour, such as it was, and hung clothing everywhere to dry. ". . . so I suppose we'll have to mothball it for lack of gasoline when we get back."

  Two boys and a girl had their heads down under the raised decking that formed the top of the engine compartment. Others were looking over the instruments, and a gaggle of girls were in the tiny cabin, admiring the
woodwork and cabinetry. The sun was just hitting the horizon, but the breeze was so hot and dry Christ flipped all his draped wash over and let the other side dry a bit.

  "How do you get along with your God? Are you his personal servant, or do you just keep the boat for him?" The girl had the tell-tale deep tan and red hair of the genetically engineered.

  "Umm, Harry isn't like your gods. Our gods help us, and teach us."

  That got him some skeptical looks.

  "Really? Like, you can do magic?"

  Chris gathered power in his hands. The kids stared. He tossed a fire ball out over the river. "Want to learn how to do that?"

  Nods all around, and nervous glances toward the city. Chris looked around. "Why don't we go down to the last dock, there, where we won't bother anyone?"

  That got everyone moving.

  And they caught on really quickly to gathering power. Chris remembered enough of what Muriel and Phaedra told the girls about their way of doing it that they could figure it out. They tossed fireballs at passing crocodiles, and learned push and pull, and the start of shielding. Thinking about the setup here, Chris concentrated on teaching mental shielding.

  One of the girls whispered something to a boy. He nodded and ran off.

  The girl grinned impishly. "The gods always serve special wines and terrific food for the parties. I figured we ought to bring some down here, and have our own little orgy."

  "Orgy? They don't actually, you aren't actually going to . . . "

  They did.

  And they figured out some interesting things to do with magic.

  Wow.

  ***

  Harry had the hangover from hell the next morning. He was far from the last to crawl out from under a table. He righted the nearest chair and sat down. Surveyed the grounds. He didn’t see the cute serving girl from last night. Assuming he actually would recognize her. And it had gotten quite dark and, umm, active under those tables. He couldn’t swear who, or even how many women he'd made love to.

  A loud laugh rang out and he winced.

  “What? A God without a good hangover cure?” Something poked him over the ear and the pain faded.

  Harry rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Good morning Edmund. What the hell did you put in that wine?”

  “A little something to make sure we don’t get too inbred, you know.”

  “You mean so you can screw as many women as you want to?”

  Edmund laughed again. “That too, which Barry justifies by remembering that we had all our genetic errors fixed.”

  “And our vas plugged as well.” Harry staggered to his feet and looked around. No signs to the nearest public bathroom. Hardly a surprise.

  “What, didn’t Barry sic his favorite healer on you? Ha! I see that he did. You’re all fixed up again. Congratulations.”

  “I don’t think anyone . . . “ Harry looked down at his leg. Flexed it. No pull of adhesions, no feeling of weakness.

  Edmund grinned. “Let’s find Barry. I know he’d hate for me to give you the tour without him. And much though I hate to admit it, his bathrooms are better than mine.”

  The tour covered a lot of land under cultivation.

  “What’s your population? You must have several hundred square miles under plow.” The grain had been harvested, cattle grazed in the stubble.

  “About five thousand. Give it another year and it’ll be larger, the women don’t seem to remember about contraceptives.” Edmund snickered.

  Harry tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. “Do you have spells to keep the pests out? I’ve been giving lessons up and down the lakes. They are very low powered spells. I suspect you two would love seeing the unpowered girls dancing through the fields throwing the spells around.”

  Barry scowled. “Well, yes, I suppose. But then Edmund would just take advantage of more of them.”

  Edmund laughed. “Don’t be fooled by his appearance of rectitude. The God of Virtue resists temptation, but falls well short of perfection.”

  “I see. And shall I give your people some lessons while I’m here?”

  “We have anti-insect and anti-fungus spells ourselves, and the bubbles should store the grain with no loss to rodents at all. We prefer to not empower the little people. Come see the size of the crocodiles in the river. Hard to believe they’re related to the ones back on Earth. Or the other Earth, I suppose I should say.” They stopped at the top of a five foot drop off to a sandy beach.

  “They look more pre-historic to me.” Barry pointed at what Harry had assumed was a rock outcrop.

  Harry stopped dead and stared. “That thing must be forty feet long! Do you stay completely away from the river?” The creature's broad, armored, head was about as long as Harry was tall. Massive and powerful. Lots of teeth.

  Edmund laughed and swatted Harry’s shoulder. Harry stumbled forward, and slid down the sandy drop. It was just a few feet forward, and a few feet down . . . but the croc raised its massive head and turned toward him.

  Enough fun and games with the evil twins.

  Harry stepped around at enough of an angle to throw a quick vertical slice that cut the croc's spine with a single gesture. The beast’s head dropped back to the sand with an audible thud. The body barely twitched. Blood pooled beneath it, stained the water and drifted down stream.

  “They eat the tails in Louisiana, don’t they?” Where the hell is Louisiana? Harry fought to remain nonchalant, shrugging as he labored back up the steep sandy rise. “You should clean the big ones out though, before you have a bunch of children running around.”

  The pair exchanged glances, and walked him back to his boat. Chris was there, thank goodness, and started untying lines. "Thanks for the hospitality. And the party. Oh, and do you know this one?" He sang Romeau's hair growing song, and grinned at the expressions on the brothers' faces. He turned and stepped aboard. Chris pushed off. The people here are going to have to deal with the brothers, themselves. Somehow. Perhaps when I return, I’ll manage to sneak in a few lessons.

  He started the engine and turned for home.

  ***

  Harry made Old Wolf put the speedboat back in its bubble.

  He showed the others the healing 'spells' Barry's masseuse had used on him, and the rock manipulations. Gisele was impressed by the improvement in his leg—and challenged. Both horrified and amused by the spells he'd copied from the wine. "Some of these spells will be useful, if only because I can work out their opposite effect."

  Chapter Seven

  30 August 2117

  ". . . and get everyone registered for school."

  Chris looked around in dismay. The woman had teacher written all over her. Elementary teacher, actually. He relaxed a bit, as he walked over to join the conversation. "I suppose the younger kids will be needing to learn the basics. Probably half of us are older, though. We'll either apprentice, study on our own, or wait for someone to organize a college."

  Iris's eyes widened as he stood up to authority. The bus girls just looked around and nodded. I guess we all had bad parents, and lost our dependence early.

  They'd built a "play yard" for the littler kids. Too many cows, horses and cars around to let them run wild. They traded off keeping an eye on them, and the parents had taken to bringing their own kids by to play. The Major was starting to refer to it as "The Park", which at least meant it wouldn't get taken for city hall or something.

  Chris wasn't the only teenage boy to notice that the babies seemed to draw the girls. Iris came by regularly, some times with a neighbor's kid she was minding, but sometimes just alone.

  "Apprentice!" The teacher recoiled. What had she said her name was? Mrs. Gilligan. Like she was already asserting her authority, and they were too young to use her first name. "I really don't think we could possibly train doctors and lawyers with an apprenticeship program. And then there's the legal situation, what with well, salaries and housing and discipline. No, no, I don't like that idea at all. We'll be opening a school. Schools.
People keep trickling in and joining the town. As of this morning, with that new little group, there are over two hundred children here. We need a school now."

  "Who are you counting? Twenty-seven of us are over fifteen, and not interested in pointless repetition. The rest, the teenagers just need math and science, in case they want to 'tag around after' a doctor or a nuclear physicist or a geologist. The younger ones will need a whole curriculum."

  The teacher had been getting stiffer with every word he spoke. She summoned her most authoritative tones, in an high volume. "Every child under eighteen will attend . . . "

  "No we won't." Chris got up and walked away. And ignored her orders to return. I am not a child. He glanced back, Ariel was leaning on the fence, talking to some boy he didn't know, ignoring the teacher. Everyone else had left. He wished he'd seen which direction Iris went. Drat. He circled around toward the livestock pens. Maybe she was visiting her cows. Two of her dad's six cows had been her FFA projects, and were just big pets.

  Several of the older Bus Kids were in a group by the east gate.

  He veered over to warn them. "The teachers are organizing. I tried to make it clear that no one over fifteen was going to attend. She's pissed. Beware."

  Lillian rolled her eyes. "Oh yes. I do so need Advanced English, US History, Pre Calc, and German 4. Do you suppose they'll try to organize PE?"

  Lance leaned over and whispered in Milly's ear. "How about some sex education?"

  She giggled. "Abstinence based, Buster." But she didn't move away from him.

  One of the boys guffawed. "I won't ever go back to school. Between farming and hunting, we'll be living the good life."

  Not the brightest fellow around, Chris thought. Not that he doesn't have a point. I need to learn how to hunt. Hmm. . .

  Chapter Eight