Meet the Family

by Pam Uphoff

  Meet the Family

  Pam Uphoff

  Copyright © 2018 Pamela Uphoff

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN

  978-1-939746-01-6

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.

  Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Art:

  ID 13069991© Kenzenbrv| Dreamstime.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Bad News

  Chapter Two

  Enemy Territory

  Chapter Three

  Meet the Wolf

  Chapter Four

  A Nice Village Inn

  Chapter Five

  Meet the Witches

  Chapter Six

  Off To See The Wizard

  Chapter Seven

  The Rip

  Chapter Eight

  Meet the Royal Relatives

  Chapter Nine

  A Casual, Friendly Lunch

  Chapter Ten

  Home Again

  Chapter Eleven

  Are We Done Yet?

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from an upcoming release

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Chapter One

  Bad News

  "I believe Dr. Quicksilver, of course, when she says Xen Wolfson is badly injured, but not dying, and certainly not dead. She says to leave him alone for a year or so and he ought to be fine." President Orde paused and watched her.

  Rael tried to not respond, to not show any reaction beyond polite interest. She suspected she failed miserably.

  “But we'd like you to go to Comet Fall and ask to see him.”

  She raised her eyebrows skeptically, and got a grin in return.

  "Well, yes, as a matter of fact, there are a few other things. Specifically, I suspect you'll need to go to the infamous Village of Ash. So you might just happen to meet the leadership of the Witches, the Mages, and the Wizards. It's . . . for all the importance of the place, it's pretty well opaque, as far as any of their magical organizations and practices go. We need to know more about them."

  "Right. Nothing to it." Rael considered the Fallen, probably the most irritating people in the Multiverse. "I'll start with their embassy on Embassy. If they won't let me through, I'll see if the horses will show me a back route." She ignored the odd look he gave her.

  ***

  ". . . and a map of Karista. It's probably changed in five years." Subdirector of Exploration Ajha Clostuone drew a finger along one street. "Especially Commerce Street, where they put most of their corridors to other cities. They do them in pairs. Outbound to the various towns on the west side of the road, and inbound on the east. It's a very wide street, to accommodate wagon-and-teams' length and turning radius."

  He sighed wistfully. "Look for an arch that says Wallenton. That's the provincial capital. If you leave Wallenton by the Northeast Gate, cross the bridge and you'll be on Stink River Road. Just stay on it. Three or four day's hike, or two and a half if you buy or borrow a horse to ride, and you'll be in Ash."

  ***

  The Attaché looked her up and down. "You actually think we're going to issue a visitor's pass to the woman who tried to kill Xen Wolfson?"

  Maybe I ought to have spoken to Ambassador Never in Paris. Of course, she's Xen's grandmother . . . so I thought it would be easier to deal with the Kingdom's diplomats here on Embassy.

  "Oh, that was the interim government. We're back with the sane government now." Rael smiled nicely.

  Sniff. Sharp smile. "I'll process your request. Come back tomorrow. Late tomorrow."

  Rael smiled back. "See you tomorrow."

  Next stop, Disco.

  Dagger, the black-and-white-haired receptionist, glowered at her.

  "Good afternoon. Is Q in?"

  "No." Glower.

  A laugh from above and behind her. "Yes. C'mon up, Rael."

  Dagger glared up at Dr. Quail Quicksilver, the foremost dimensional expert in the multiverse. And Xen's sister. "Q! She's a trained assassin!"

  Rael giggled. "Actually I'm quite famous in the Empire as the Multiverse's most incompetent assassin."

  Q snickered. "Here too. The bridge back there is now a major tourist attraction, with everyone wanting their picture taken in your statue stance."

  Rael slapped her forehead. "Oh, One!"

  "C'mon up . . . unless you're in a rush, grab a cup of coffee on the way."

  "Q!" anguished tones from Dagger.

  "He's really all right?" Rael squirmed as Q grinned. "I mean, alive and healing? No brain damage?"

  "His brain's as squirrelly as always, his body will heal. In fact when I checked yesterday, he'd persuaded Mom that he wasn't going to die if she took her eyes off him, and put a speed bubble around his bed. Which means he'll be out of that healing coma in a few weeks."

  "Umm, but if he's talking . . . "

  "Oh, the people who do that wake up every three or four days, hit the lavatory, eat, drink and crash back into bed. And when I say 'wake up' I mean drowsy half asleep on their feet. Mind you, Xen's the only one I've seen do it, but Mom says Dad's just like that." Q eyed Rael questioningly.

  Rael shrugged. "The myths of the New Prophets and the Warriors include them sleeping for a year to recover from horrible injuries. Well, Xen's mentioned the healing sleep, and speed bubbles, I just . . . well. I'd like to see him, myself."

  "I understand that. I had to see him before I calmed down. Well, not that I got very calm, but . . ." Q huffed in exasperation. “And maybe this time my idiot brother will learn to get his shields up before the hostilities start!”

  Rael nodded. “He’s so good at talking to people . . .”

  Q sighed. "And keeps talking when he ought to be leaving. So do you need help getting to Ash?"

  "I'm trying to do it strictly honestly. If that doesn't work . . . I'll be back and beg for the use of one of your back doors." Rael shrugged. "Bureaucrats. You'd think I'd be used to them by now. At least yours have legitimate security concerns. Mine just like to throw their importance around."

  Q laughed. "I'm not sure if it's a matter of people with the right personality being attracted to the profession, training, or contagion. But . . ."

  Rael laughed out loud at that. "Contagion! That would explain it."

  Q grinned and pulled out a tab of metal and flipped it over to turn it on. An illusion, a magical hologram appeared in mid-air above it. Bright dots and colored lines.

  "My latest map, in case you're interested in where Xen found trouble this time."

  "Whoa. Getting a bit complicated, isn't it?" Rael studied it. "The green worlds are ours. Red, are Earth’s? Blue for the Kingdom?"

  "Yep. Orange for the various worlds without powered gates, and purple for Disco." Q reached out and tapped one of the most distant of the widely scattered purple points. "That's where Xen encountered the Cyborgs. An inhabited world. He got the impression—clothing styles and sophistication of vehicles—that the Cyborgs might not be locals, but he wasn't there long enough to find out if they had originated there. This is Utopia . . ." She touched a world with a yellow tinge, roughly the same direction, not quite as far away. "One of the Early Diaspora worlds. They were invaded and drove off the Cyborgs, seven years ago."

  "Did Disco help? We never heard . . ." Rael stopped at Q's shaken head.

  "Four of the escaped Black Island Gang. Prince Mirk, Frost—one of the Veronian Witches—and two witch children apparently were able to assist. We're . . . talking to the authorities there, but they’re very cautious and don't seem to be terribly interested in trade."

  "Huh. I wonder if they're very utopian? Aj
ha says he's never heard of any Cyborgs. How about Earth?"

  "They say not, but there was a bit of, umm, exact wording to their answers."

  "Which is not helpful for anyone trying to find them."

  Q nodded. "Xen says there was some gate activity to that world, but that it was originating from beyond his reach. He's really worried about the possibility of a very large and aggressive polity out there. But any information gathering is going to have to be . . . very sneaky."

  She flipped the tab over. "But we'll worry about that when Xen's back. " She grabbed another tab and activated it.

  A detailed look at the region around the One World. "Bright for the One, a bit darker for the early colonies and lighter for the recent?"

  "I wasn't sure if you guys considered the suburb commuter worlds as colonies or not. Those are the lime green ones. The lines are the permanent dimensional links."

  "Umm, I think that legally we designated them as part of the city they're attached to. I suppose they’ll eventually want to change their status and be treated like the colonies." Rael poked the map. "And then the hub worlds. What do the colors mean?"

  "This one, out three links, is to quarantine worlds to isolate dangerous worlds. These blue ones are rarely travelled routes, and then yellow for the worlds being actively explored but not obviously dangerous. There's three hubs going out to all of those."

  "One! They're really adding up, aren't they? Sixty-two we've colonized or are active in, and another couple thousand in the catalogue." Rael swept her hand through the illusions of unconnected green spots. "And I'll bet the red coming in from the side are Earth's discoveries."

  "Yep. And Granite Peak right in the middle." Q's finger followed a golden thread that jagged across the area, with several side branches. "And the Maze. So technically all those Worlds belong to The Kingdom of the West as well."

  "Oh. Not Disco? Well, it didn't exist then, did it?" Rael bit her lip. "So the Embassy World belongs to the Kingdom."

  "Nope. Our government granted it entirely and without conditions to Xen Wolfson." Q grinned. "Oh, the expression on your face. Yep, technically, when any world buys a square for their embassy, they pay Xen. Of course he puts it all into Disco's accounts."

  "He owns the whole world." Rael nodded. "Figures."

  ***

  In the morning, it was Ambassador Never, herself, who handed Rael a piece of paper and smiled benignly. "Have a nice visit."

  Rael had no idea if there was a bit of malice behind the smile or not.

  Did she just happen to be here, instead of in Paris on the One World? Or has there been a lot more high ranking discussion than I’d expected, about my visit?

  I know they don’t trust me, but I wonder what they think I’m going to do?

  She knew the gorgeous blonde wasn't even close to as young as she looked—they'd organized a small elite guard detail to escort the President to her eightieth birthday party last year—but it was hard to believe. Until one realized how close to impossible she was to read, either mentally or through her physical movements and expressions. So very controlled.

  "Thank you, Ambassador. I hope to." She had come dressed to travel—that is, in a proper Comet Fall women's riding suit—and just a small over-the-shoulder purse. Of course the dimensional bag in the purse held a great deal more than anyone would expect.

  Ambassador Never turned away, so Rael headed back out of their embassy, and headed for the dimensional gate on the side of the stone wall that encircled the entire lot. The open decorative stone work made the wall more of a symbol than a security measure, especially since the wall dropped to less than a meter in height at the front where it faced the Plaza.

  The gate was placed for easy access to the carriageway that looped in front of the embassy building. The guards there frowned at her, but waved her through.

  Never told them to let me through. So . . . will I be facing a problem on the other side, out of sight of everyone here?

  She giggled at the guards and bounced through.

  Chapter Two

  Enemy Territory

  Two blank stone walls, angled for firing at the gate and whatever came through it. Enough space between them, straight ahead, that traffic wouldn't be impeded. The soldiers on the walls—what she could see of them—ignored her. So she strode, with just a little bounce, straight ahead.

  Beyond the walls she could see the city of Karista, tall towers with ornate peaks. Trees, colorful houses in the foreground, across a stretch of mown grass, with the road from the gate running straight through it.

  A car was parked just outside an unlabeled fence-line.

  Am I not seeing all the security, or are they that confident they could repulse an invasion?

  That naïve?

  Or the home of the most powerful magical people in the Multiverse?

  She eyed the car as she neared. A limo, well known Oner make, black. A chauffeur in a pseudo uniform hopped out and opened the back door for her.

  Rael leaned and looked in. A young man in an expensive business suit. Paris tailoring, perfect hair.

  "Hi. I'm Rael."

  He raised his nose. "I am Updo Withione Azteca. Ambassador Ozma sent me to . . . Where is your escort? We thought you'd at least have a knowledgeable driver!"

  "I'm not here to make a show, I'm just visiting a friend." Rael stepped back and eyed the limo dubiously. "Not that I wouldn't appreciate a ride to Ash, but . . ."

  Updo popped out of the car. "I'm here to take you to Ambassador Ozma. The embassy staff will make arrangements to get you to Ash, while the ambassador explains our position here, and introduces you to the local government leaders."

  Rael thought about days of meeting important people . . . "No thank you. I'm not here in any official capacity, nor have I the time. I am just visiting a friend. Please pass on my thanks to Ambassador Ozma for his consideration."

  She turned and stepped away.

  "You can't . . . get back here! You're just a guard!”

  Rael stopped and looked the man up and down. "I'm not here to stroke the ambassador's ego, nor put up with insults from a bureaucrat's toady. Go away."

  “You are nothing, you incompetent bitch!"

  She walked away, watching the pair magically, as they talked quietly with much exasperated arm tossing, and at a moment when neither was looking at her, warped light, and stepped off the side of the road.

  They noticed her apparent absence, looked around and scrambled back into the car.

  They drove past slowly, the chauffeur peering out the left side, Updo to the right.

  Rael strolled after them, and turned right at the first corner.

  Small weathered wooden houses, small yards with vegetable gardens, and caged chickens. Not a prosperous neighborhood, but despite a fair amount of peeling paint, not desperately poor either. A shop of some kind on the corner . . . a woman with a basket full of bread looked her over.

  "Lost, honey?"

  Rael looked down at her riding clothes. "Yeah a little."

  "Well, if you've lost your horse, it's most likely being sold down at the auction yard, right now." The woman jerked her head over her shoulder. "T'other side of t'race track."

  "Ah, thank you." Might as well buy a horse now as later.

  Rael strode out in the indicated direction.

  And really wished she hadn't worn riding boots. Not that they weren't well broken in and all, but they weren't cushioned, the hard leather sole didn't absorb impact . . .

  "Hey, Lady! Need a ride?"

  Rael looked up from dodging road hazards. A man was leaning over the seat of a two-wheeled . . . was it called a trap? Whatever. Harnessed to a big chestnut.

  "Joe's Taxi can take you anywhere in town for two royals."

  "Royals! Ha!" Rael eyed the man. "Actually, I heard there was a horse auction around the race track?

  "Oh, well, I kin take you there for just five crown."

  Rael snorted. "Two, maximum."

  "Well, all righ
t. You talked me into it."

  Oops! Ought to have started bargaining at about five points!

  The man hopped down and folded down a step. Rael climbed into the back seat, and the man pulled a canvas bucket thing off the horse's nose and they were off at a fast trot.

  "So, Joe." Rael leaned over the front seat. "What's a good price for a riding horse? Nothing flashy, but sound and trained well enough to not be a problem?"

  The man laughed. "As much as the auctioneer can get out of you. Mostly this place sells the slow race horses, so they're not what anyone would call well trained. And some older horses, back page horses that won't sell at any of the up-town auctions, and broke down horses headed for the knackers. I wouldn't pay above fifty, sixty royals for anything here." And so saying, he steered the horse around a corner and stopped beside a large barn-like structure, a maze of small fenced pens visible on the far side. "I can hear the auctioneer, so there's something selling, now."

  "Thanks!" Rael handed over the two crowns, and hopped down.

  Inside, all resemblance to the fancy auctions she'd attended was . . . organizational only.

  A semi-circle of benches, dropped down a few meters to a slatted pen where the wares were on display.

  In this case a nervy rearing bay circling white-eyed and high-headed, being crudely steered by the man riding him bareback in a halter.

  "Just four years old, good looking bay gelding, Flashy and fast. What do I hear? Who'll give me a hundred royals for this beauty?" The auctioneer slid into a weird chant until someone offered twenty.

  "Twenty! For this fine animal?" Back to gibberish with pointing and back-and-forthing. "Thirty who'll give me forty, Thirty, forty, thirty-two thank you sir, who'll give me thirty-five?"

  Rael wasn't at all sure the man stopped to take a breath, but then he picked up a hammer and tapped.

  "Going once! Beautiful fast bay!" Tap. "Going twice!" Tap. "Sold!"