Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars

by Pam Uphoff

  Ajha snorted. "I think you're missing eleven. I mean, apart from that fellow in Auralia who claims to be a god, and the walking statue, where are they?"

  "Oh, Peace, of course. Umm. We don't really believe in actual corporeal gods. They're just the archetypes, the ideals that everyone believes in. I suppose we may give them power through our collective magical ability, but it's all illusionary. What was going on with the statue was weird, but probably misunderstood. That fellow in Auralia is a faker." David was quite certain of his assertion.

  "Humph. Next you'll be telling me there's no such thing as magic." Ajha prodded a bit.

  "Most of the magic users died in the last Auralian war. Both sides used them, and especially targeted the other side's magicians." Tian again. "And Scoone kills them on sight, as you know. Magic may be extinct. Major magic. They say everyone's a little magic, but what's that mean?"

  They all nodded glumly. Ajha paid for their lunches and busied himself with his own. Informative. He chewed and swallowed. "So that's why everyone 'believes' in magic, but there aren't any magic users to be found. They're all dead." The idiots had let themselves be used, instead of taking over as they had on the One World.

  They all nodded, then headed off for classes. He thought long and hard as he walked back to his own history class. History of the Kingdom. It was the newest of the nations, founded less than five hundred years ago as a commercial venture out of Scoone and Verona to settle the West. Hence the clunky name. And another of the history or myths was that the settlers from Scoone had been magicians, leaving as the majority turned anti-magic. Which would explain the higher levels of the Prophets' genes. But there was also a myth that several gods had left Scoone then, as well.

  These gods. Subtle, hidden magic users? Or completely imaginary? Mentions of them kept popping up everywhere.

  That God of War was no hallucination. Could he have been a . . . physical manifestation of the group psyche?

  The Books of the One Power showed that the First of the One had lived extraordinarily long lives. If the equivalent, here . . . was it possible that these Gods could be some of Those Left Behind, stranded here, as the First of the One had been stranded on the One World? Exiled from heaven and Earth?

  Ajha was not a deeply religious man; he'd always taken the scientific spin on the Appearance of the Prophets, the ancestors of all of the One. It was obviously the result of gate travel, nothing supernatural, not a miracle. Even if it had happened more than a thousand years before such technology had been developed anywhere in the known Multiverse. Marooned, I've always thought . . . but they could have been kicked out, exiled like the thirteen here. We know the Prophets weren't genetically identical, so the differences here could just be because of a slightly different founding population of genetically engineered people.

  But even he quailed a bit at the thought of surviving compatriots of the Prophets. No matter how many myths of "The Exile of the Gods" this world had.

  "Utter nonsense," he growled under his breath. Letting his imagination get ahead of his reason was not acceptable. He simply needed to find the magic users who had fought Ba'al. And for that he was going to have to ask Usse if he had any contacts with people who had been in the Church, or who had been involved with mentions of magic.

  And then he needed to track down this comet disaster. It would explain a lot about the present population. Many small surviving populations, out of contact with each other, hence the new racial types.

  A year at City College wasn't going to be enough. Would the Princess commit the time and money for the Team to attend the University?

  ***

  Ajha eyed the metal fence in the bright light of the full moon as he walked along, and noted the overhanging oak tree as an easy way to exit. Entrance, on the other hand, well there was a rusted out spot. He slipped through.

  "I can't believe you talked me into this." Wink muttered as he squeezed through. "And I'm not as skinny as you are."

  They headed away from the fence. The ground was damp in the winter night. Ajha was glad he had put this off until the snow was melted, but with the warm snap it was harder to go about unnoticed in the evenings. There weren't many people out tonight, but it would be better to be completely unseen. He'd run out of research material, and it seemed silly to not examine the statues himself.

  He stopped in a dark shadow and eyed the bronze statue sitting in front of the main carriage entrance. It was not the usual sort of thing he associated with religions. Vaguely Buddha-like in the cross legged poise, the figure was merely a bit pudgy, not fat, and looked rather muscular under the padding. But the six testicles and the erect phallus just didn't seem very godlike.

  "That's disgusting." Wink looked around nervously.

  "Most fertility figures are either pregnant women or large bulls. This is just a variation." Ajha slipped up the sidewalk to the next patch of shadow. He avoided the main doors, and sought the smaller side door. The lock was good, but still just mechanical. An application of thin oil, wiggling everything loose with probes, and then adding a bit of telekinesis had it open.

  "Did I miss that class in Directorate School?" Wink looked around apprehensively.

  "Hey, where's you sense of adventure?"

  "Back home. It's hiding under the bed."

  Inside, Ajha touched the stud on his light and took a careful prowl. The central room had tiers, as in an amphitheater, but no seats. There was the same seated figure, this one only a little larger than life, on a small stepped platform in the center of the dark room. In the moving light of the small torch the figure looked very life-like. A soft glow of light reflecting off all the white marble showed the perfect detailing. The black stone pillar behind it mirrored his light and gave an illusion of movement. Ajha smoothed down the hair on the back of his neck, and finished walking down to the floor of the amphitheater. The statue was a work of art, the grill it held a crude add on.

  "One! All that artistic talent, wasted on a nasty thing like this."

  "Don't let Usse catch you cursing like that. The art work . . . why add the tray?" Ajha almost smiled; from this angle it nearly looked like the Holy God was looking down at it in perplexity. "Even he's wondering how he came to be holding it." His voice echoed and he shivered and refused to imagine that the statue had turned its attention on him. He touch the cool brass arm and softened his shields, to see if there was anyone else in the temple.

  He jerked his hand away from the statue and tripped down the two steps he'd mounted. He stared at the bronze figure for a long moment. Then picked himself up and climbed back to grab the figure firmly, and lower his shields, to reach into this thing and find a sleeping and confused muddle. :: What are you? Who are you?::

  A confused, slow fumbling attempt to understand. Then whatever he had touched sank back into sleep.

  "Holy wah . . . umm. Oh. My." Wink grabbed the statue's arm. "What is holding you trapped in there? Can you open it?"

  Ajha squeezed the bronze arm and couldn't budge it. Sent a simple anti-sleep spell.

  The consciousness fumbled, reached ever so slowly . . . Ajha fell off the dais a second time at the clang of the grill hitting the ground. As the noise echoed off the stone walls, he could see the statue's arms moving slowly, tucking in to touch the chest. Slowly. Slowing.

  "Wink, maybe we ought to let it go back to sleep."

  "No, I want to know what the One is going on here."

  Wink leaped up and grabbed the statue :: Open! Open! Out! :: Then he gasped and fell to his knees.

  "Wink, let go!" Ajha grabbed him, felt the power being sucked out of the Withione, and through him, Ajha. He needed to let go . . . His hands spasmed open, and he spun and kicked across Wink's wrists, knocked him away from the moving metal.

  The statue clawed at its chest in slow motion. Something rippled over the metal; the bronze pulled away, like a balloon popping in slow motion.

  The large naked man frowned around and finally focused on him.

  "All
right, Rebeccah, you are finally going to get what you deserve."

  "Uh . . . " Ajha grabbed Wink and pulled him further away. "Uh . . . are you the Great God Ba'al?"

  "What? Who are you? I had a hell of a hallucination about . . . " The man trailed off, looking around at the amphitheater. He rubbed his arms as if cold. "This is definitely odd. Where's Rebeccah? I'm going to get that bitch. I know those panic and confusion spells were her fault. Edmund? Where the Hell are you? Mercy? Art?" The man threw his head up suddenly. "The comet's coming! Bloody Hell! They're already shielded." He grabbed something from thin air. Flipped it, jumped in. A bronze statue crashed to the ground.

  Ajha looked around. Grill on ground, empty dais. Sprawled statue. It was moving, very slowly. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

  Wink scuttled away. He grabbed Ajha's offered hand to climb to his feet, and kept backing away.

  They didn't bother about concealment on the way out. In fact they avoided the shadows. Ajha was shivering a bit in the chilly night, and felt a bit disoriented. Weak. That last power draw . . . "Well, we wanted to know what a Western Magician was like. Not unlike a vampire." They squeezed back through the hole in the fence and staggered for home.

  ***

  Lefty looked at the sprawled statue. And told himself that sudden shiver down his spine was just the cold wind . . . "So the Ba'alists moved it back inside, and it sat back down. Until last week. Now it looks like it is trying to get up off the floor.

  "Well, I think we both know it's not a statue." Dydit poked at the bronze hair. "There's a little bit of give to it, now. Do you think we should talk to Harry or the Auld Wulf?."

  Lefty prowled back around. "They both say there's an actual God in there. They don't like him, at all. I don't either, but I'd just as soon not have to fight him again."

  Rufi looked down at the statue and shook his head. "And I don't like the idea of it getting up and walking around. I have enough trouble with the non-magical Ba'alists."

  Selano Discorski had been sitting cross legged on the floor, one hand on the statue's ankle. Now he sighed. "There's something in there, having weird incoherent dreams. Or maybe thoughts. It, he, no doubt, is not thinking clearly. I don't know how much of a direct threat he is. But it's no wonder the Ba'alists are quite certain their God is returning to life."

  "And they cause more problems than a mere animated statue could ever create." Rufi concluded. "I think maybe we should strip all the statues out of here. Put them out on an island in the bay or something. Give pride of place to that big one out there, and stick this one off to the side. The Senior Priests are fighting tooth and nail to hang onto their property, and the Courts are listening. Sometimes the rule of law is a real mare."

  Selano snorted. "Matter of public safety?"

  Rufi chuckled. "If I strike fast, I might get all the statues out of here before the Ba'alists can get an injunction. Ah well, it'll keep me from worrying about Earth."

  Chapter Twenty-six

  1 January 3481 / Winter 1362

  Karista to Fascia, Comet Fall

  New orders came in at the first of the year. Was it possible to check these reports of a possible Oner agent, partial name "Pax," in the government of Auralia? Could they open a second spy post in this Fascia?

  They swapped looks.

  Damien nodded. "I could take some long hauls, then divert from Farofo to Cadent. The satellite photos show a road from there south, around what ought to be the Caribbean Sea to Fascia, which is more-or-less where Caracas would be on Earth.. I can at least take a good look, see how we'd fit in, in the other country."

  Mike nodded. "Think how you could make it work, because it sounds like the Amma and the Oners are getting way too friendly."

  Damien bought two more horses, even larger than the pintos, and a heavy freight wagon. And then another midweight harness horse to team up with Blue. They made a good lead pair, leaving Blackie and Macy for around town hauling—assuming they were going to keep working as haulers—and taking the Bear wagon out of the city for the monthly reports.

  Driving four horses took a bit more work than a single pair, but with a bit of practice he and his 'nephew' Carl were hired on to haul lumber and food to one of the mining towns, with the promise of employment on the return trip carrying gold. It got them closer to this Fascia, and better yet, into the circles of drivers who'd been everywhere.

  "I always hated carrying to Auralia." Herv Beaner spat at their campfire. "You miss one toll or tax and they slap you in jail, and if someone isn't right quick with the money, you're enslaved, cut and sold. Never seen again."

  Heads nodded.

  Another one started an improbable story about a trip to Verona, and involved what the man claimed was an orgy that pretty well encompassed the whole capital city of Cadence and was spreading fast into the rest of the country. Most of the drivers laughed with Damien, but a few smirked knowingly. It was a good orientation trip, down to Havwee. They hauled gold back to Karista, and then signed on for a trip all the way to Farofo, leaving during a gap between winter storms. From there they signed on for Ochase in Verona.

  From Ochase they hired on with a merchant headed for Fascia. Damien was grateful for the cool spring weather as they traversed the rolling hills covered with scrubby desert brush, cacti, and in this season, some grass. Fascia was unexpectedly foreign, the primary language derived from a mixture of English and Spanish, like Merican, but with more Spanish and generous dose of Arabic words, although the basic grammar was close enough to Merican. It was the culture that was the most foreign to them.

  There were slaves. Eunuchs.

  Clothing styles were different, the women wore skirts and short sleeved blouses, sandals were common. The men wore loose fitting pants, long shirts and usually ornate sashes with multiple knives. Hats of all sorts, very few bare heads. Max and Damien dressed to fit in, and saw the sights of Fascia without any feeling that they were anything but outsiders. On the other hand, gossip about the Amma's wives was rampant, and Princess Rior well known.

  "Really? So just being the most incredibly beautiful woman in the world isn't enough? She has to have a baby, too?" Damien shook his head at the woman he was buying a drink for.

  "Oh, yes. Three years without a baby is an insult to the Amma's virility." She batted her eyelashes at Damien and finished her drink.

  He ordered another. "Well, since he's got all those other hundreds of children that seems silly. Obviously the problem is hers. But if she's that pretty, and won't loose her figure with children, I expect he'll be happy to keep her."

  "Oh no. The Amma has lots of pretty wives. When they get old or fat he gives them to a nephew or a brother. He can marry as many women as he wants." She patted her brown hair wistfully. "I was never pretty enough or rich enough to catch a husband."

  Carl looked over from beyond the tawny blonde he was plying with liquor. "Gives away a wife? She has no say in it?"

  "Of course not! That would be silly."

  The blonde nodded. "If she hurries and gets pregnant, and gives him a son, he might value her again. But his newest wife is pregnant after barely a year, so she is high in his regard."

  The brunette smiled. "That means she gets the best rooms and has servants all her own."

  "Or she will if she has a boy."

  "Maybe she ought to talk to the God of Peace, for a potion."

  Both women looked at Damien like he'd grown a second head.

  "For that she'd have to talk to the Goddess of Fertility."

  "And she can't talk to a man! Old Gods, the Amma would think she was unfaithful and discard her."

  Carl raised an eyebrow. "Discard?"

  "Just throw her out . . . well, maybe he'd find some minor Solti and give her to him. To avoid an open scandal."

  "So, what good is a God of Peace, then?" Damien kept fishing.

  They both shrugged. "That man isn't a God. He's just another leech, kissing up to the Amma. Really, Gods don't just walk around like real people."


  And that was about all the information they could glean.

  The public works weren't up to Karista standards; the town stank of excrement, equine, bovine and human. Most businesses employed family only, and their tentative attempts at independent hauling ending in substantial bribes, that is fines, for reasons best left unquestioned.

  They were both happy to leave.

  It was August before they got back to Farofo, and mid-September before they hauled a ton of gold into Karista. They delivered it to the mint and thankfully drove home. They were received with whoops of joy and the unharnessing taken out of their hands. Beers were pressed on them and something that might be a party seemed to be starting before they even made it to the house.

  He blinked in surprise at a bay and white pinto looking over the stall wall. His sister's mix-and-match foal with all the engineered genes was a very tall fellow, at nine months old.

  "Solstice is just getting better and better." Code grabbed a halter and led him out. "Isn't he fabulous?"

  Damien eyed the big pinto. "Damn nice animal." And when the experiment is concluded, the test animals are to be euthanized, incinerated so that all genetic material is destroyed. Good thing Solstice isn't in my sister's hands. And anyway, these genes are all from here, so there's no contamination. Solstice swiveled an uncertain ear his direction. "Guess he's forgotten me, I've been gone for so long."

  He sold the heavy pair and the big wagon. If he bought another open wagon, weaned Solstice and bought another horse to pair with Sombrero they could run two wagons almost all the time. Just like a real businessman. I must be crazy.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  20 Jumada1364/late spring 1362 local

  Karista, Kingdom of the West, Target World Forty-two

  "Six months and we're making no progress on the local magic. We need to get the magic question settled, so we can watch the Earthers when they return. Sooner or later Verona, Scoone or the Cove Islands will decide to talk to them, to use them for advantage. That's when we'll have to step in and arrange an unfortunate accident. For one party or the other."