by Pam Uphoff
Warric shivered in shock.
Get this thing off me, make this deathly gray go away . . .
Oh Arbor NO! Trill, don't you realize what I would do to you?
"We have less than an hour . . . There's an opportunity . . . "
He could see her swallow.
"This may be the only chance, we're starting to burn our bridges and we have barely started across them."
Warric turned and bolted. In the bathroom he reached into the plumbing and fished out the flask. Turned and handed it to Trill, who was, of course, on his heels.
"You want me to drink it?"
He nodded and stepped around her to turn on the shower. Cold only. He stepped in, drenching himself.
Leave the pants on, make as little contact as possible. Fast. Be fast.
He turned to look at Trill as she lowered the flask from her lips, eyes widening. She dropped it and threw herself at him.
***
Trace stood still, staring straight ahead. Holding his shields as tight as possible. Looking as much like a guard as possible. Belted sword at his side, club held in his right hand, away from the cross corridor where no one could see it. A few people rambled by on the cross corridor, but few of them even glanced toward him. Then more people.
Dinner must be over. We need to hurry.
He tensed at the sound of running footsteps. Portly Brekley was wild-eyed and out of breath as he rounded the corner.
"Guard! Come with me!"
Trace snapped to attention and ran after him. Down the corridor to the ornately carved door . . . It gave to the priest's hand and swung open.
"No!" He swung around on Trace. "Who came here? What did you see?"
Trace shoved him through the door, kicked it closed behind him.
"Why you . . . " The priest started glowing.
Trace swung the club awkwardly, up under the man's chin. Whatever magic the priest had started fizzled. He drew the club back and swung with all his strength.
The only scream was from the next room.
***
Marius was ready to scream from pent up terror when three figures finally hustled out the servant's door and into the niche in the tunnel where the important vehicles were kept. Where the telescope wagon was kept. Trill in fancier dress than her usual, Trace all in black, and a figure hiding deep in the hood of a standard oilcloth raincoat.
Marius grinned and thumped his brother's shoulder. Kept his voice to a whisper. "Get behind the wagon, stay in the shadows. Five young priests are leaving soon. Trail them out the gate past the guard, then fall back and head for the northwest road. Ten miles and on the left you'll see the gate. We may catch up to you before you get there. We're going to try to look as normal as possible."
The hood glanced at the shrouded telescope.
"They always search. Even in the middle of the night. No matter how often we do this."
The hood nodded and faded back out of sight. Marius moved his lantern slightly, shifted the shadows to expedite Warric's departure . . .
Across the main courtyard the big double doors opened, throwing a long slash of light across the courtyard. A clump of figures exited, hustling through the drizzle. A man with a lantern leading, hunched in his black oilcoat. Four more black-coated men, and the Ambassador, with four servants holding a canopy over his head.
He escorted them across the courtyard into the tunnel out and stopped halfway. Right at the beginning of the vehicle bay.
"Have a pleasant journey." The ambassador glanced toward Marius's lantern and the wagon beyond it. Trace and Trill were tying down the shroud. Trace in a hastily donned buckskin jacket.
Marius nodded politely to the ambassador, then looked over his shoulder. "Trace, go harness the horses."
Trace stumped ungracefully out and down the tunnel to the courtyard. Marius strolled out and watched him leave.
"Lazy?" The Ambassador turned as well.
"Oh . . . he's not bad. But why give him an opportunity?"
"Ha! Indeed. But then I suppose he dislikes driving in the rain."
"Just the first ten miles. Then with any luck we'll have clear weather through to our first objective." Marius stopped at the edge of the overhang.
"Humph! All these nighttime trips. You should leave in the daylight."
Marius grinned. "And miss a last civilized dinner? Now if you had a bad chef . . . "
The ambassador laughed and walked off, his servants scurrying to keep him dry.
Marius turned back and strolled around the wagon. Checking that the shroud was secure, and definitely not looking at the empty corner.
Chapter Fourteen
The God of Spies
Director of the Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation Xen Wolfson watched the Arbolians coming and going, and chewed his fingernails. "What are they up to, so early in the morning?"
"Diplomatically speaking, if they take the God of the Sun away you oughtn't do anything." Inso told him. Again.
"I know. I just wish I knew what this is all about. Or for that matter that fuss two months ago. They shut down access to their gate for five days. I asked Uncle Kurt but he didn't know about any internal problems to his south." He sat up as a group in bright red robes marched down the steps of the Arbolian Embassy and past their Gate to advance across the plaza.
"You may get your wish yet." Julianne walked in from next door. "I wonder if they will admit anything?"
"They have to give some information away, in order to get any." Xen bit his lip. "Shall I be pompous and sit here to receive them?"
Inso snickered.
"All right. I'm not good at pompous." He turned from the window and headed for the front door. He'd delayed enough that they stalked through the door as he trotted down the stairs. All those shaved heads above red robes stared hungrily at him, vampires his father called them. He was a bit more inclined toward leeches, and shut his mental barriers tight.
"Gentlemen. May I help you?"
"I am Temple Priest Harold Notcher. We had a problem internal to our embassy last night. It is none of your business, but as local security is your job, we wish you to ascertain if any outsider was about last night, and might have entered or left our embassy."
Xen nodded thoughtfully. "Inso, Julianne, could you check with the One and the Earth Embassies? Ask if they have any recordings of the Plaza from last night, and if so, try to get copies of everything."
"Right." Inso waved a vague salute and circled the red robes, Julianne on his heels.
The priest at the rear watched Inso until he was out of sight. Julianne was ignored.
"We have recorders as well." Xen nodded politely. "I haven't had cause to examine them before, however I suspect Jiol can show us all how they work."
He caught Jiol's gaze, and she nodded. "It's easy, we can display them on the screen in the first conference room." She led the way, and fooled with the Oner computer while he did the polite social routine.
She brought up a picture of the plaza at sunset.
"The numbers on the upper left are the Oner's time and date." Xen explained. "Last night at sunset. I hope you can fast forward it."
"Of course. Do you have any approximate time of interest, Sir?"
"We believe it happened fairly early. Well before midnight."
"Right then, at a speed ratio of ten to one . . . " The plaza darkened quickly, a bank of clouds covered the stars, a brief shower.
People left the One Gate and entered their embassy. A group of five Earthers crossed from Merchants' Row and walked around to the side of their compound and out of the camera's field.
A steady drizzle set in.
Six men walked out of the Arbolian Embassy, and through their Gate. After an hour the drizzle stopped, the sky cleared.
Two wagons rolled out of the Arbolian Embassy, drove past the Empire of the One Embassy and drove out of the camera's field of view.
Two hours after midnight, a uniformed guard hustled out and trotted through
the Gate.
"Enough. That was the messenger with the news." Notcher frowned at the screen.
"Can you show those two groups in greater detail?" Xen asked. "The second group appeared to be the astronomers. What of the first?"
Jiol fetched the section with the first group, played it through at a normal speed. In the drizzly rain they were all in black oilcloth capes, hoods up. The gate was at an angle to the vid recorder, only a bright slice of daylight showing through.
Xen shifted uncertainly. Guiltily. "Show it again. It is none of my business, about your Priests and Gods, sir. But I notice that the first five figures are getting damp in the rain. The sixth appears to be steaming. As if he were hot."
All the Priests stiffened, and they watched it through again. Six men, hustling through the damp night. The last lagged a bit behind, and steamed. The figure followed the others to the gate, wavered and disappeared.
"If you have lost control of your God, it appears he has gone home. How dangerous is he? Do you need to warn your people?" Xen eyed them, they were all tense and more than a little horrified. Trying to look calm.
The Temple Priest stood. "Thank you, Prince Xen. If the other records show anything different, please let me know." He walked out, with his train of anonymous assistants.
Jiol waited until they were gone. "My, oh, my. Lost their God? And why have we not seen Brekley? Want to bet he's assumed room temperature?"
"Nope. I never bet against sure things." Xen stepped to the door and checked that they were all gone. "Play it again. I want to watch that steam."
"The steam?" She started the scene again, and stepped back beside him. "I wonder how hot he is? Surely not over ninety degrees."
"What's that, almost two hundred degrees Fahrenheit? Just enough to burn anyone touching him, but not too much of a fire hazard? Bet there's a hot spot on the top of his head, for the steam effect." Xen eyed the cloud of steam, as the sixth figure wavered and disappeared. The steam whipped backwards and moved across the plaza to the northwest. It was difficult to see through the drizzle if the drizzle was disrupted in any way.
"One of your fancy light warps? And he ran off after the astronomers?"
"About an hour before the astronomers, actually. Well, he didn't run off through one of the other gates. I wonder if he knew about the first gate, the one that leads to the Maze? The astronomers have been using it regularly. Perhaps they talked about it where he could hear."
"Huh. How interesting, and how honest are you going to be?"
"No one has made an official complaint. I can speculate that the God of the Sun escaped Priest Brekley's control, killed him and fled, but all we actually have is a to-do with the Embassy security running frantically about, summoning their superiors, and Brekley conspicuous by his absence." He stepped back to the door and flagged Julianne. "Any luck?"
"They said get a warrant." She shrugged. "One of the off-duty fellows said it was a quiet night, just a few groups coming and going."
"Good. Let's see if Inso gets anywhere. He's a lot less honest than you are."
"Hehehehe."
"And I see that Inso has finally got the hang of a light warp too. So?"
Inso appeared, rubbing his temples. "Hardly worth the pain. I'll stick to reflections. Drizzly night. Twenty-two fifteen, six figures from Arbolian Embassy to Arbolian gate. Twenty-three thirty, the astronomers from Arbolian Embassy to Merchant's Row. What happened here?"
Jiol showed them all the replay, pointed out the steaming sixth figure. Let it run. Neither of them noticed the moving bit of steam. Neither she nor Xen said a thing.
Chapter Fifteen
A Leap of Faith
"Warric? Can you hear me? Warric?"
Warric jolted awake.
Marius was stepping carefully back, running feet and Trace was thumping down beside him, grinning, sticking out an elbow to block Trill.
"Don't kiss him, you've probably got enough burns already."
"Shut up Trace." Trill pulled a pair of oven mitts out of her pocket.
Warric laughed soundlessly. So tired he couldn't stand up. So happy he was crying.
Brekley's death had come so close to pulling him down with him . . . Good thing Trill broke my chain before Trace bashed him.
He'd managed the burst of energy to get this far, but now he felt done.
He leaned happily into the padded caress of his face and wished he could ask how badly he'd hurt her.
"Warric?"
Trill patting his face. He'd fallen over. How odd, he didn't remember doing that.
He moved carefully and gestured toward his mouth.
"You're hungry? Thirsty?" And Trill was gone.
Trace huffed out a breath. "He collapsed when I brained Brekley. I didn't think about them being linked."
"Yeah. And just energy expended . . . the light and heat must come from his own bodily resources, since he can't touch power."
Except what my master allowed, with brief suppressions of the Chain. So I could do his bidding. And I sort of learned how to suppress it myself, to work around it. It was probably stupid of me to try to help that woman . . . to show that I was still capable of at least a basic physical shield. But now I'm free again . . . so how long can I stay free? What plans have you made? Please tell me you have a plan, because I'm almost too tired to think.
Trill galloped back and he drank from the bottle she held out . . . apple juice. Pure heaven . . . and bread and meat. Then he struggled to his feet. Trace grabbed one of Trill's oven mitts and steered him over to lie on the lowered flap of the first wagon.
"Sleep, if that's what you need. We need to get further away, several gates away, before we can stop and do a bit of planning." Marius hovered worriedly, offering a blanket.
Warric took it. The less heat loss, the less energy that damnable spell sucked out of him.
He woke several times at the wrench of a gate passage. And finally to stillness, and the jingle of harnesses, the smell of trees and grass and water. He opened his eyes, afraid of dispelling the dream. A red orange sunset across a lake. The scratch of a striker and a flare of flames. A campfire. He sat up slowly. The dream, far from going away, stretched to Trace grooming horses. Marius with a bucket in either hand grinning at him as he headed for the lake. A clatter of china from the back of a boxy wagon.
Warric got up shakily, and staggered out to take a look around.
A long sandy beach, grassy up here where they'd parked, sloping up to a forest. Mixed deciduous and pine. Mountains in the background, snowy crests pink in the sunset.
Trill walked around from the back of the box wagon, beaming as she spotted him. "No, we do not need help. You are going to rest. Don't make us beat you up!"
He trailed her around the fire to a scatter of rough wooden tables and benches. How many people camp here? Where is here?
Movement in the trees, riders emerging from the forest . . . Glowing.
Priests!
Warric stepped toward Trill, if she had a knife big enough to be a weapon . . .
No. The Chain is broken. I am a weapon.
He pull heat, chilling the air, and compacted it . . .
"No!" Trill lunged and grabbed his arm, flinched back. "They're friends."
Warric cringed. I've hurt her again!
But still turned back to eye the riders.
They'd stopped, the leader had a sword half out . . . a woman. A woman with magic. Very definitely not a priest.
Warric eyed the fireball in his hand, then stepped away carefully and threw it out into the lake.
The woman shoved her sword back into its sheath and swung down from her horse. She kept her eyes on him as she walked down to face him. "You're the Arbolian God we've heard about."
Marius stepped up beside him. "This is my brother, Warric Menchuro. We've rescued him . . . well, we've kind of just got started rescuing him. Umm, Warric, this is Crimson Ultradaut. She's a Comet Fall Witch."
Warric, for lack of other options bowed his h
ead.
Another woman bounced up. "Well, you got him through some gates, so that's a good start."
"And we got the Chain off him, so he can fight back." Trace squeezed Trill's shoulder.
"The Chain." The second witch frowned at Trill. "Is that why you asked all those questions?"
"Yeah. It worked." Trill tossed her head.
"Huh." The first witch eyed Warric. "I know a wizard who really hates Chain spells. And he's good with metamorphic changes too. I think you need to meet Nil."
Chapter Sixteen
Investigation
"You want me to deal with them?" Lon Hackathorn looked at Xen in dismay.
"Yes. They aren't . . . safe for a magic user to be around for any amount of time. Even I would not dare turn my back on them."
Lon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "And do you expect me to actually assist them?"
"I . . . expect you to do anything reasonable they ask of you. No less. And definitely no more. And come back and report on it all."
Lon snorted. "Right. So are they downstairs now?"
"Afraid so. So go rescue them from Inso before they try anything they won't live to regret."
The ambassador was in his white robe, with five men in three shades of red robes, standing in a semi-circle around Inso. They ranged from middle-aged through a vigorous looking senior. Twice as many young men in yellow robes, hanging back a bit. Further back, two young men in black robes, heads shaved, pens poised above paper notebooks.
Lon circled the tableau and stepped up beside Inso. The old priest and the ambassador were in the center of the arc.
"Ambassador Greene, gentlemen. I'm Lon Hackathorn. How may I help you?" He kept it calm and businesslike, and pretended to not notice Inso easing away from the predatory gazes.
The ambassador pulled his hungry gaze away from the Oner. "I am Temple Priest Harold Notcher and this is Senior Priest Justin Collier. He and his assistants are here to recapture the escaped god. The God of the Sun is quite dangerous; you do not want him loose, out there somewhere."