Mages at Large (Wine of the Gods Book 18)

by Pam Uphoff

  Five bags. They must have hit more than one little camp.

  Henry split the gold bars among his men and they rode out quickly.

  With a spell of foggy forgetfulness. They wouldn't remember much about him until they needed to sell gold again.

  Marcus slipped the bags into his hidey hole. The illusion over it was strong. He put his scales away, and hearing another clink of hooves he trotted over to the gully where the kids were ferrying a few sacks up from the bottom and waved them to come up. "Strangers coming."

  They grabbed for their crossbows cocking them and taking position along the rim of the gully, before the drop down to the Rip itself.

  The Army patrol reined up as they cleared the brush and looked around as they approached the pavilion.

  Marcus stood up and waved.

  "There was a rough bunch through here not five minutes ago. They looked us over and kept going. Guess they knew you were on their trail, eh?"

  "No doubt." The officer tipped his hat, and turned to follow the bandits' tracks out. His scouts were already down the trail.

  Max let out his breath. "They didn't even notice that they'd stopped here. Dad . . . this is wrong. We can do fine mining honestly. Look how much money we have already."

  Marcus looked down at him. "I really do wish you'd learn from Paul's example. He's a clear headed realist, not a besotted dreamer."

  Max bared his teeth. "Do you enjoy breaking the law? Abetting thieves and murderers?"

  "I enjoy being high in the power hierarchy, not a weak victim." He needed to do something about that girl, but betraying a witch wasn't easy. But the way Paul's getting pushy, I'd better take care of that soon. Witches can really hurt a man who gets pushy. And the witch playing games with both Falco and Max is going to cause problems.

  He'd heard they'd opened a new claims office in Southern Hell. It would be closer than Lucky Strike; he'd have to find some bravos and take care of the problem. It wasn't like they actually needed a witch to find gold, anymore.

  But for now, he regularly formed up the compass and made the youngsters work. Falco was getting stronger, but . . . a little odd. No doubt something to do with having a wizard for a mother . . . Is that why he can open the God shields? He shrugged that aside and watched as Falco experimented, cutting rectangular blocks out of the edge of the cliff. He's getting good at slice as well. Just seventeen. Building a cabin, he says. Marcus eyed the blocks scattered about. So far any cabin was just a "plan" on the ground that they kept moving around. He snorted. They're starting to stack the stones, so maybe they've made up their minds.

  ***

  "I can still only cut about a foot into the rock." Falco looked glumly at his pile of almost consistently sized blocks. "The main question now is what we should use for mortar. Mud? I think the rain will wash it away."

  Max snorted. "The next time we go to town, we'll buy proper mortar. How hard can laying bricks be?" Max was better at slicing than Falco, now, but they were trying to be consistent in the size block they cut.

  Dobs glanced over her shoulder. "There's a witch trick . . . I couldn't do it, before." She blushed.

  Falco raised his eyebrows but kept his mouth shut. About time you two snuck off and, umm, advanced a level, each.

  Dobs walked over to the stones they had laid out. Two small rooms in the back, one for the Archmage, and one for Dobs. A larger square common room, where the three young mages could sack out. A fireplace in the middle . . . the roof might be a problem. Dobs sat down cross legged facing one of the corners.

  "We need roof beams. Shingles, or maybe tiles." Falco stepped away from Dobs, to not distract her from whatever she was doing.

  "And firewood. Those scruffy trees on the ridges . . . maybe we should start cutting them down, Some of the trunks might be long enough for the roof, and the branches we could stack for firewood . . . " Max broke off at a whoop from Dobs.

  "Yes!" She was hauling on the rocks, and not budging them.

  Max galloped over to help. And failing.

  "I did it! I melded the block to the ground." Dobs shifted. "Let me do it again. I ought to be able to get the blocks melded together too."

  By nightfall she had the first layer done, no gaps between stones.

  Paul sneered. And went off to hunt.

  The Archmage walked closer and watched for a few minutes, before he walked away.

  Falco wondered just what he'd been thinking.

  Then he and Max got to work, cutting more blocks.

  ***

  This far south, most of the winter was merely cold. But there had been two brutal storms that made Marcus very glad the youngsters had amused themselves building this snug little cabin.

  There had been no problem traveling regularly into Southern Hell.

  And now there was something odd. Something that had been added, since he'd been here last.

  Marcus studied the traffic going through the arch labeled 'Havwee', and disappearing. Half a block further down the road people, horses and wagons were appearing from nowhere, walking out of another arch. Maneuvering around so he could see through the arches, he could see the people walking on down a street that just wasn't there. He finally couldn't stand it any more, and stalked forward.

  "Dad, what are you doing?"

  Max was starting to get on his nerves. Damn boy was timid. Law abiding. Afraid to take risks. Marcus shook his head. No, the problem is that he's nice. He wants people to like him, and he likes people. He has no thirst for power.

  The three kids scurried in his wake and he followed the foot traffic squeezing between wagons.

  He stepped into the arch and walked out into a different town. City. Brick streets with palm trees, lawns. Pleasant, normal people, who eyed his miner's garb and gave him room.

  "Whoa. That was wild." Dobs was walking backwards staring at the Arch.

  "We need a map," Falco said. "Look at all these arches."

  Marcus pulled his eyes away from the welcome greenery and looked around. Indeed. What he had taken for side streets were arches. Six on each side of the road, with names over them. 'Farofo' and 'Karista' had the most traffic. Baytown—probably the nearest port. Lucky Strike, and Two Trees. The arches labeled Southern Hell looked new, down here at the end of the row.

  I must have missed seeing the corridor in Lucky Strike. Two Trees . . . I never bothered going there, since it doesn't have an Office of Mining Claims.

  They were on the side everything was exiting from. Across the street, people were driving into the arches. He watched a pedestrian slip into an incoming arch, and the next person out was cursing and glaring back at the arch.

  The Karista arch was wider than the others, with a pedestrian walkway. He sauntered casually across the street, and followed people through.

  Into an icy cold city. Karista was a big city. Hills, frigid winter air. Several dozen arches. A boy hawking maps. He got one of the kingdom, showing the corridors and one of Karista. On the Kingdom map, Karista had a star. The capital. Yes, this is where he would be eventually. For now, though, he'd continue accumulating money. He crossed the street and walked back to Havwee, where the kids were frantically surveying the arches, and led them back to Southern Hell.

  These new corridors had some interesting potential. He needed to find Paul, and discuss the possibilities. Did Henry's gang know about these? They could steal gold down here, pop through a couple of corridors and sell the gold in Lucky Strike before anyone could possibly know about a robbery.

  But today they could drive through the arch to Havwee, cross the street, and drive through to Two Trees. Which cut the remaining distance they had to drive to get to their claim in half.

  Chapter Seven

  Late Winter 1394

  Gold Rush Territory

  Falco looked over at Dobs drumming her fingers and looking irritated. And Max with his fists clenched. Paul smirking. Marcus disgusted.

  Two weeks of bad weather had kept them mostly inside. Rubbing each other wrong.


  We need a break. Badly. He wandered casually over to their crates of supplies, tossed a few things in a bag.

  "The weather's clearing, it's getting warmer." He looked over at the others. "We should get out today and do a little exploring."

  Paul leered. "I'm ready to settle down by the fire."

  Dobs jumped up and grabbed her coat and was out the door before she got it on. Max snatched his and followed, and Falco was on his heels. With the edibles.

  "Let's check the horses. Maybe we ought to take them for a ride, find some grass for them." Falco glanced guiltily at the ridge. The two geldings were probably fairly old, and had had to make do with a wind break and roof. They'd built a reasonably sturdy corral and stacked up a no-doubt-incompetent haystack with rather coarse grass and weeds, and bought oats. Almost gone now.

  The other two nodded. "That's as good an excuse as any." Dobs shivered. It wasn't really cold, but better than yesterday.

  "Then let's go check out . . ." Max glanced back at the cabin. "The area north of here."

  Our claim. We ought to spend some time there, dig up one of those veins Dobs can feel, and pay taxes . . . Move there and build our own home. Falco shot a look at Max and Dobs, walking together and fought down a wave of loneliness. Two houses. Everyone I ever knew is dead. So long ago that there's no way to even know if they survived the comet. Except for those of us who were frozen in the Museum. My neighbors . . . Grace. I ought to find someone to innocently ask about the Old Gods. They were over three hundred years old already. Probably they're all dead too.

  The horses stuck their heads out of the shelter and nickered. The haystack was nothing but scattered clumps, spread everywhere and well trampled.

  "Definitely time for them to try foraging." Max grabbed the ropes hanging on the side of the shed and caught Star. The two geldings were well mannered and well trained, and Star was perfectly happy to have Max and Dobbs riding double. Falco used a rock to get himself up on George's broad bare back and they ambled northward. The sun came out and warmed their backs. The horses trotted a bit and made short work of the ten miles.

  Their claim was just one more rocky barren. They staked the horses out to graze the winter dried grass on the ridge and walked out onto the barren black lava.

  Dobs closed her eyes. "Oh yes, it's much clearer now. It's right over here. Let me see if I can tell how deep it is." She sat and the guys withdrew a bit.

  Max huffed out a breath. "So. What are we going to do?"

  "Free more mages. I've been thinking about it. We need more people, men that your father respects. And your mother, the other mages' wives too, maybe some of the older daughters. Dobs needs to be with other women, and other women will divert Paul too."

  Max bit his lip. "Yeah, it can't hurt. I'm about ready to just pack up and leave. I won't have Paul harassing Dobs, and I won't . . . I can't just keep looking the other way while my father fences stolen goods."

  Falco nodded. "Yeah. Let's give it a try. Your father said we had enough gold to take into Southern Hell when the weather looked good. And we need more oats for the horses. Let's see about slicing our way down to this gold, then we can . . . what?"

  "Buy our own wagon, and go get some mages and their families. Tell Dad and he can come with us and choose who, or not, as he wishes." Max nodded and turned to look as Dobs stretched. Pointed.

  "Walk over there, Max . . . two more steps. Yes right there. Five feet down."

  Falco started cutting blocks, and stacking them around the spot Dobs indicated.

  "Are you thinking about another cabin?" Dobs walked around, frowning at the ground and shifted two blocks.

  Max grinned and handed her a block. "Might as well have a shelter here. And if we're going five feet down, then we only have to go a few feet up for headroom."

  "Well the gold starts at five feet." Dobs set the block in line with the others and reached for the one Falco held out. "So we may not need walls at all."

  "Oooo! Two floors! A mansion!" Falco grinned and got back to slicing. It's good, being away from the others. Damn. I wish I hadn't got them out. And now . . . what if I make it worse, letting more mages out?

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Who can I talk to about a dangerous mage? Hell, I don't know anyone, let alone any government or law enforcement types. Let's see, the nice people who rescued us the second day. Haven't seen them again. I don't even know the names of the mining claims people. Or any the grumpy miners around us. The Old Gods? Right, like Art or Mercy would give a. . . and they'd be on Marcus's side anyway. I've never spoken to any of the others. I'm nothing to any of them.

  We're on our own.

  They stretched the potatoes and dried rabbit out for two days, but finally had to go back. The twenty pounds of gold, wrapped in the food bag, they tucked in a corner of the wagon.

  Marcus stalked out to glare at them. The bag. "You get twice that in a single day, down in the Rip."

  "Yeah, but it was a great cure for cabin fever." Max scowled over at Paul as he walked up. "And we need to get into Southern Hell as soon as this next storm is past. The horses are down to the last sack of oats."

  Falco nodded. "I'm going to cut some more hay for the horses, to get them through the storm." He walked off, and Dobs and Max followed him. The rough decomposing stone of the ridges was ill suited for haying. Unless one was a mage. Slice had a much larger reach when going through air and grass. They just had to walk out to where the horses hadn't been staked out and start slicing grass where it grew in hollows here and there, and around the scrubby trees.

  And bundling it up and carrying it back to the shed.

  Marcus glared at Dobs, and Falco made a point of hugging her where Marcus would see. Nothing more was said about their little vacation, and in two weeks the temperatures warmed and the grasses all sprouted.

  Two weeks to Southern Hell. And it was definitely spring.

  They exchanged glances, nods. Time to change things.

  Chapter Eight

  Spring 1394

  Southern Hell

  Marcus scowled at his younger son. "What do you mean 'No?' You are my son, and if I order you to assist . . . " He glanced around the city street. Too many people within hearing distance. He dropped his voice. " . . . in the family business, you will. You will stay away from that witch, and you will not be off prospecting on your own. Especially taking my horses off for days at a time."

  Max crossed his arms. "We have decided to go free some of the other mages. Maybe they can talk you into reasonable behavior. And Mother, and the other wives and children. So why don't you come back to Art's place with us, and we'll free as many people as you want. Your Compass. Whatever. I suggest you load up on supplies for the trip, because they'll all be as clueless as we were. Hopefully they'll be more honest, and pressure you to fit into this society."

  Marcus bared his teeth. But it's a good idea. Some of the women too, he supposed. The whores out here were thick on the ground, but well used.

  "Yes. It's about time we brought more people into the . . . family business."

  A quick check to the side, as a wagon halted. Falco and Dobs. A new wagon and team.

  Ha! They're all ready to go. Not going to take no for an answer. Well, Max needs the smack down he's about to get.

  "All right." he nodded. "We'll leave in two days."

  Falco set the brake, and climbed down. "We're leaving as soon as we've loaded supplies. Meet you there."

  Marcus eyed the boy. Very young, virgin, barely trained. Naturally strong, but I can handle him. Hell Paul could, too, easily. "Right, we'll catch up to you." And maybe have a little discussion away from witnesses.

  They bought provisions, and the people in the store laughed when he added so much more. "Once without food in the middle of this desert was quite enough," he said.

  The children quietly loaded more, ugg, beans and rice. And headed out with their new, untested team.

  Serve them right if one of their horses drops dead.
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  He and Paul left later that afternoon. Two corridors to Lucky Strike, then half a day to where the kids had camped. Marcus ground his teeth and acted pleasantly. Another day to Gemstone, where they camped in relative luxury. Then five long days heading north. Falco turned off the road and led them straight to the museum.

  Something had happened while they were away.

  For starters, the museum was visible, the door locked with a simple spell any mage could trip open.

  The second level was smoke stained, a scorched circle on the marble floor, a gleaming speck in the center.

  Falco edged cautious over to examine it. He leaned in close to the bright spot.

  "Don't get yourself killed." Marcus growled.

  Falco shook his head. "It's nothing magic. There's a hole in the floor. I guess we're over the overhanging area, because it's just reflected sunlight shining through." He looked around the room. "No other damage, beyond the smoke stains. Accident or fight?"

  Marcus shrugged. "Art must have come back and dealt with a trespasser. So let's free some people and get out of here." He took the last staircase two at a time, suddenly anxious. Over a year! Why didn't I come back sooner?

  Seeing his old friends again nearly brought tears to his eyes.

  He talked it over with Paul, and walked around considering the bronzed people.

  Falco was staring wistfully at his father.

  "We'll start with four more men, so we have a full compass." Marcus glanced at Falco. "I think Hawkin should be in the next group. Right now, for mining, I need mages who are especially good at large physical effects."

  Falco swallowed and nodded.

  Paul walked over. "They're going to want more people freed. We should move them outside or something, so they don't see them."