Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars

by Pam Uphoff

  Two more switchbacks and they were at the start of the bridge. The road continued down, the bridge had obviously been added later. But it was of the same recrystalized granite construction. Not in blocks, but of a single piece. Or perhaps it had been made in blocks and then recrystallized? Somehow . . .

  Egto walked out on it, head down and studying it. Then he got down on his hands and knees and started a scan, edging gradually forward. "Can you make expansion joints on a microscopic scale?" No one answered him. "Crystal structure isn't random, they're aligned, long axis more or less vertical. Most of the thermal expansion is going to show up in the thickness. I wonder if there are voids inside?" He pulled more small instruments from his backpack and returned to a prone position.

  Ajha walked down further, looking up at the shallow arc, and out at the six tall arches that supported it. Down in the depths the noon sun shone off metal, and he walked on. The river was high and he could only gaze speculatively at the wreckage wedged in between a huge boulder and the side of the canyon. Made of metal, advanced manufacturing methods. The surviving angles were unfamiliar. Earther. There was more wreckage across the river, something that might have been the remains of a tanker truck. A drive shaft stuck up from the rubble, and one of the boulders looked suspiciously like an engine block. Ajha took pictures, then turned and hiked back up to the bridge.

  "Anything?" Wink hopped off the bridge.

  "Vehicular wreckage." Ajha panted. He handed over his cam and lay down. "Why didn't I work out harder last winter?"

  "Because you didn't know about this canyon. And the air's thin." Egto shook his head. "I don't know how the hell they built this thing. There are discontinuities where blocks recrystallized into each other, but it's not like melting. It's the application of just enough heat and pressure for the crystals to align and join up. On the larger scale, the arches will get taller when they expand, the side arches go from leaning slightly in, in winter to leaning slightly out in summer, and those scrape marks there are where the bridge ends scrape forward and back. See how it wedges down? The edge, I am glad to say, is taking a beating. Whoever made this is going to have to repair it every twenty years or so."

  "Can you tell how many times it's been repaired?" Ajha rolled over and looked at the scrape marks.

  "Never. There are just three winters' worth of scrapes on that rock you're lying on and the bridge wedge. As far as I can tell, it was built immediately after the Earth attack."

  Ajha looked at him, and then at the bridge. "Why do you think after?"

  "Because of that intercept that said that the old bridge was destroyed and the natives built a new bridge for the forward elements of the Earth Company to retreat over. Or removed an illusion that concealed a second, higher, bridge." Egto glanced back at the bridge. "But the bridge is only about as old as the battle. It could be a coincidence that the battle happened right after they put in a new bridge."

  Ajha nodded. "But why put in a new bridge, for the tiny bit of traffic they get through here."

  He pushed back to his feet, then walked across the bridge. It was nerve racking, with the wind blowing down the canyon. The side walls weren't nearly tall enough for safety.

  After five days of testing they found no trace of chemicals or projectiles on the eastern side of the canyon. All the natives' offensive weaponry seemed to have been magical, unless of course, the tanker really had been struck by lightning.

  They hiked out of the canyon and coasted back out of the mountains. They snuck around the fort again, this time striking south on a secondary road to check out the village of Ash. It was the only village that qualified as three days from Wallenton, at least on the local maps.

  It was a picturesque little place, prosperous despite a few empty houses. Abundantly supplied with blondes and redheads, damn good looking ones, and a few odd types he'd never noticed in the City, with black hair and honey gold eyes, including three girls that could have passed as triplets with long hair down to their tight little pre-teen butts.

  "I need to come back in about eight years." Ajha muttered to himself.

  Wink heard, and stifled a snicker.

  "What?" Egto looked around at him.

  "Nothing. What are those women doing?" Wink nodded at the redheads and blondes who were apparently dancing in the vegetables.

  "Fixing nitrogen, while having fun. They can't draw outside power, they're just drawing down their own reserves. They've got a touch of magic, but there's nothing here even close to the power that raised that bridge."

  Idre nodded. "Get a good night's sleep and we'll leave in the morning. Three days walk to Wallenton, then we can take a barge downstream to Karista."

  Chapter Thirty

  1362 Summer Solstice

  Witches Pyramid on Mount Frost

  Rustle hiked along at the tag end of the column of witches. It was great being in the back with Ask and Ultra, who, technically speaking, were her half-aunt and half-great-aunt. She'd always treated them like her little sisters, and defended them from bullies. Especially Ask, who was small. She'd been steamed last winter when Answer had called up Tromp, Zenith and Cost, the trio of bullies, to the New Moon, but it was great at the Major Ceremonies.

  The three nasties were walking up there, and weren't supposed to come back here where the little girls walked. So, no bullying on the walk to the mountain.

  They reached the peak just before sundown. Answer, Blissful and Curious climbed all the way to the top, the Dark Crescent. Not much room up there, Rustle thought, wondering how the other witches were going to fit when they paused for sure. Delight, Elegant and Furious were already well up on the academics of the level.

  The level of the Waning Half was larger, but still crowded, with two triads and two extra witches.

  They didn't have any Full Moon sisters. Once the girls were a little older and started grasping power, their mothers would advance. Until then, the Waxing Half Moons had two triads and an extra. Mother was the extra, she spent so much time with the explorers they didn't even try to fit her into a triad any more.

  The Crescent Moon tier was also empty. It too would stay that way until all the girls her age, now eight years old, started grasping power. Two holes, awaiting time and maturity to fill them up.

  Tromp and her pals gleefully monopolized the New Moon's position at the base of the spire, sneering down at the younger girls, who were keeping a respectful distance but still watching and singing.

  "There's nineteen of us, if you count the six year olds," Bid muttered. "We should do something."

  Rustle shook her head. "Nope. Let them be the ones to get into trouble. They always do."

  They fell quiet as the singing started. Tromp, Zenith and Cost got to sing their advancement songs, lifting their hands theatrically. Empty, too, Rustle thought, smugly. Then dropped her head, ashamed. She took a deep breath and exhaled it, sending away her pettiness. She joined in the song of Summer, and the rest of the children did too. The Sun was down and the sky deepest blue and the stars brilliant. The gibbous moon would rise later.

  A shooting star flashed across the sky, horizon to horizon. The Auld Wulf had said that they were rocks, falling to Earth, heated to burning by the atmosphere. As two more flashed by, she raised her hands as if to grasp them, to add to the pull of gravity. Light flickered, danced between her fingers, and she looked at them in surprise. Gathered the light into a ball. She could suddenly see how she was taking the Gravity and twisting the power around to make this firefly light.

  She blinked in startlement as she was pushed forward.

  "Go up, Rustle!" Ask sounded gleeful. "Up to the Crescent Moon."

  She looked up, and could hear her mother's voice singing the Daughter Song as she stepped up to the Full Moon tier. Rustle climbed past the glaring Zenith and started singing the Song of Power. She looked at her hands again, twisted the gravity . . . She felt some vast change within her, and knew her life had just gotten even more complicated than before.

  Chapte
r Thirty-one

  1 Shaban 1664/Summer 1362

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

  Ajha skulked around the government buildings, ate in any number of over priced restaurants frequented by members of the Council and the palace staff, and collected genetic samples at all levels of government. Some distant relatives of the king had another new power gene on their Y chromosome. The number of the genetic insertions any of the Western natives possessed was wildly unpredictable. Obviously magical potential had nothing to do with anyone's position in government, here.

  The few samples they'd collected in that mountain village had had unusually high numbers of the insertions, but no power genes at all.

  Ajha scowled at his results. "We ought to have explored further, around that area. This village is far above normal, the other villages around might be even higher. We should have collected hundreds of samples."

  Usse looked cynical. "And perhaps the most powerful prefer something other than life in a bucolic village. However, I have an appointment with a client. So to speak. He thinks I work for him, when I actually manipulate him and garner information from his gossiping and complaining. You can sit in and listen, as it is slightly relevant. I'm going to steer him toward that village of yours."

  Ajha nodded. Was he being mentored in spy craft? Deep post minding?

  "Havener Discol is rich. But it is control that truly matters to the man, showing his essential insecurity. He's fixated on diamonds, wants to control the diamond market, and in truth he's got his fingers in every gem brokerage and quite a lot of control. I have hunted down information the man wants, and now I'm going to aim him at this Ash, and see what happens." At the knock on the door, Usse reached and opened it. A short broad figure hustled in.

  "Mr. Discol, please come in, sit." Usse's manner was so meek he nearly disappeared from the man's consideration. "I have the information you seek, and a possible location."

  "Tell me."

  "The packages are always sent from Wallenton. Always by a woman, but not always the same one. There are a dozen or so women, but they only come one or two at a time, and generally with teenage girls along. They stay at one of three inns, and there they are associated with several men, one selling wool and one selling wine. The group comes in several times a year from the Village of Ash, up in the mountains."

  Discol frowned. "Never saw it on a map. It's too far north. Diamonds are found down in the volcanic lands northeast of Farofo."

  "Isn't Mount Frost a volcano?"

  Discol frowned. "Ash. Ash. That's it. They've hid their diamond mine from me. It's probably a big strike, if known it could pull miners, prospectors into the area, start a rush, so they hid it. Hoarded the diamonds." He nodded. Reached into his pocket and tossed over a slip of paper. A bank draft. "Thank you so much for your special handling of the shipment. Much appreciated." He heaved himself to his feet and walked out.

  Ajha closed the door against the push of a hot dry wind, and the clink of the prancing hooves of Discol's carriage horses faded away.

  "He'll return, dissatisfied, and I'll have to listen to him complain for an hour to mine the bits of information I want. Specifically, we'll find out how they treat obnoxious, nosy, visitors. So you three will know what you are facing. Hopefully he won't get snowed in, I'd prefer the information earlier." He waved his dismissal, and Ajha left.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  30 September 3479/Early Fall 1362

  Karista, Kingdom of the West, Comet Fall

  "Contact!" Allie sounded excited. "It was a burst transmission, low level, but I got a direction!"

  Mike and Richie hopped into the wagon, the rest gathered at the door.

  "Ten to one compression . . . let's see if we can decrypt it, if it's in English we ought . . . Okay, play it."

  "The Earther Native Affairs Office is still empty. If those fools are still infuriating everyone they speak to, perhaps the Scooners burned them at the stake. Still no further action in the Temple of Ba'al."

  "Nice. A direction, and jam packed with information." Mike's finger traced the line through the city. "Definitely east side, goes out to sea about the middle of the sea docks. So, they've got an information collector in Karista. And they've been keeping tabs on the diplomatic types. Excellent. Damien, can you take the Bear wagon a nice slow amble from there to the river docks?"

  "Da. Will do."

  "Why don't you think about how to find out why the interest in Ba'al. No further action, they said. What was the first action?"

  But the sweep along the bay and river front yielded nothing, nor the sweeps two and four blocks inward.

  They stopped for lunch at a tavern on the upriver side of the River docks. Joe had been running the instruments in the wagon, and stretched, happy to be out. "Hard to believe you didn't stop at your favorite dive."

  "This one is a bit upscale for us, so mind your manners." Damien tried, and failed, to keep a straight face.

  Joe looked around the dim interior and grinned. "Less grease, more dust, and a pretty thin crowd." He flashed a smile at an over aged waitress and took his first sip of beer. Choked. "Just found out why."

  Damien winced at the harsh green brew and glanced out the dusty window at a clatter of hooves and raised voices.

  Three men nearly fell off their horses in front of the tavern. Laughing, and most likely half drunk. They were dressed in the lacy shirts and embroidered quilted vests favored by the set that tended to duel at the drop of a hat.

  "I can't believe you took Rufi's colt!" The first one through the door was grinning.

  The second one swaggered. "He was too damn handsome to resist. Uncle Rufi won't grudge me a bit of a ride."

  "Oh yes he will, the colt's not yet three, you shouldn't have run him. Damn fast though." The third noble looked around like he was smelling something bad. But some crashing and squealing from outside interrupted anything he might have to say about the place.

  Damien glanced out and leaped to join the cursing group rushing outside. 'Rufi's colt' had broken the rein he'd been tied with and despite all the harness and the wagon in the way, was doing his damnedest to breed Blue. The nobles laughed about it, cheered him on, and sliced harness when the colt put a foot through the traces dismounting. They flung Damien a coin, like he was a serf, nearly beneath their notice, and managed to produce a sturdy rope to tie the young stallion to a tree. They went back inside and appearing to find the whores suddenly interesting, disappeared into the back.

  "One! Turned themselves on watching, didn't they?" Another patron was snickering.

  Damien removed the cut strap and took it inside to deal with, sitting so he could see the man who'd just spoken. He made a key hole splice, and wrapped the overlap with a leather thong. "That should get me home to replace it." He dropped his voice. "Joe check those three men at the far table. Remember them."

  Joe walked over to the bar for another beer, nodded amiably to the trio. "I wish the fall rains would start. I'm tired of driving down to the river docks and finding nothing."

  "Yeah, should be any day now, and the kitty will be delighted. We really ought to run both wagons for awhile. I've been thinking we should buy that house next door to us, so we could spread out a bit next winter, not get on each other's nerves."

  "That's not a house, it's a pile of rotted wood." Joe dropped his voice.

  Damien eyed his trace. "Well, I reckon it's time to see if this will hold." He led the way out, and buckled the strap in place. Blue didn't help any, nickering at the black horse, who was throwing a fit from across the yard. "And you behave yourself, old lady. No foals, you're a working girl of a different sort."

  They were turning out into the street, when he glanced back. The man who'd sworn by the One staring after them.

  "Okay, who were those guys?" Joe asked

  "Oners, I think."

  Joe looked around. "We're out of sight. Let me off. I'll see if I can follow them. Go tell the lieutenant."

  Th
e trace held long enough to get him home. Code swapped the team while he dashed inside to report. They grabbed comm gear and Mike led all the guys out to help with the tracking. Allie groused at staying to mind comm central. Damien let the horses trot all the way back. The guys started dropping off along the way. Damien stopped at the end of the wharfs, and Mike and Carl walked the rest of the way.

  He could hear them subvocalizing over the comm net.

  <>

  Damien hauled freight all afternoon, taking only short local hauls, keeping his eyes open. No sign of the Oners, nor Joe.

  They stayed out until dark, then met for a hasty dinner and headed out on foot again. In the morning Damien drove past the tavern to the northwest gate and asked about his 'cousin'. The guards hadn't seen him. He turned back and worked the area again all day.

  Code joined him for the afternoon's labor. They stopped once at a leatherworker’s shop for a replacement strap, and kept going until the light was gone.

  They ate dinner alone; Allie was in the basement monitoring, and the others still gone.

  A city guard knocked on the door about dusk. "You the Damien that hauls freight for Master Halse?"

  "Yes, well, I haul for anyone, but . . . "

  "We've got a body the Master thinks is a relative of yours."

  Damien closed his eyes in pain. "Joe. I've been worried . . . " he choked down an inappropriate curse. "Where?" He snatched his jacket and followed the guard down to the docks. The body was not pretty, after a day in the water. But the cut throat was quite obvious.