by Pam Uphoff
***
One body was hideously misshapen. Rustle edged over to look at the other four bodies. Strangers all, thank the old gods. She fingered the oldest man's jacket, then the shirt under it. "They're Arbolians. Feel the shirt. They call it cotton."
The three gods all straightened in surprise.
Harry shook his head. "Damn. I'd forgotten all about cotton."
Rustle pulled the jacket off, turned it inside out. Altered, crudely. "See this tiny stitching? And then here, big fast cobbles. They cut down the sleeves to what is fashionable here."
She walked over and eyed the strange corpse. "It's ugly in an entirely different way than the god thing I killed over there."
Gisele reached out and touched the body. "Wizard X, Storm Y." She walked back to the old man. "I don't know what this odd Y would do . . . "
Rustle closed her eyes, sank into a spell of "seeing" things . . . enlarged . . . larger. The Y chromosome . . . and off center, an addition. Her head started aching. She tried to look in even more detail and it all wavered and fell apart. She jerked her hand away from the body, and looked over at Gisele. "Could it pull magic from other magic users? That would explain the setup in Arbolia, where the Priests keep their Gods, and breed them."
The Auld Wulf growled. "I wonder how close they have to be. We need to catch our two fugitives and ask them some questions."
"Catch them carefully." Rustle said. "We don't want to hand them one of you to use for a source. At an absolute minimum, any magic users in a fight with them need to not touch or be touched."
The God of War tapped his fingers for a long moment, then strode out of the room.
"Damn all gods." Rustle swore.
Dydit leaped after her, hands twitching as he resisted grabbing her. Nil was on his heels, and Never right after.
Rustle stopped and watched the Auld Wulf step through the gate. He didn't return. Either no trouble, or lots. She strode up the hill and jumped through. Wolf was alone, standing with his eyes closed. Glowing. Reaching out and searching. . . And it doesn't hurt!
His eyes snapped open and met hers. Deep brown, nearly black, a reddish rim in the light of the rising sun. "Sorry. I didn't think."
"I think I'm finally recovering."
A faint growl from behind her. "Despite all of us?" Her father walked up and scanned the hills.
"Kurt said it would probably be at least a year before they made it back out here." Rustle looked worriedly around the bare green hills. "Maybe they couldn't find it."
"He's a Prince. It probably took him a year just to get married." Wolf looked around in turn. "I suppose we could build a tower, make the location a bit more obvious."
Rustle hesitated. "Perhaps we ought to wait a bit—not tell the Arbolians where it is, either."
Wolf nodded. "Although they seem to know. I think we've done all we can about this incursion, until they show up again."
Rustle nodded reluctantly. "I'll leave you to it, then, and see what the children have gotten into. I just hope Liz and Kurt didn't already run into these guys."
He touched her cheek, gentle and concerned. "They'll come. And I'm sure Harry will call you."
Chapter Fifty-one
Thursday, April 15, 3494
City of Arrival, Arrival
"Well, Kurt. Your year with us is winding down. You've spoken very little to me of your faith."
Kurt sighed and folded him arms. "Father Miles, I apologize in advance for insulting you. But my faith is quite secure, and always has been. The church, on the other hand, has consistently gone out of its way to misunderstand what I say, and flaunt its authority over me. Only my respect for God, and my sincere hopes that the church will cease these power plays and truly live as they preach keep me here.
"Now. If you need something to report to the archbishop, please tell him that if he can keep up a façade of civility, I expect Uncle Charlie will sell him the Cathedral properties for ten million crit and he can dispense with the charade, which ought to be a blot on his soul and a shame to the church's upper hierarchy."
"Prince Kurt. How long do you wish to remain in penance?"
"Father Miles, how long do you wish the church to remain defiled by sham marriages and false imprisonment for monetary gain?"
The priest stood and walked out, back stiff.
The archbishop walked in an hour later. An escort of priests stood in the hall behind him.
Kurt stood and bowed.
The archbishop closed the door. "So. You have met your ancestor."
"Actually he informs me that I'm the descendant of his wife's foster sister, but he has given me permission to call him Uncle Charlie."
"That old man says a great number of wild and unaccountable things." The archbishop said.
"Perhaps we should all meet in the Cathedral, and we could all place our hands on the holy text, and we could all talk about this travesty you inherited from your predecessors."
"The man is incoherent."
"The man was kept perpetually sleep deprived, deliberately. I think you'll find him much recovered since he convinced his wife to stop disturbing him. Why don't we walk out there right now."
The archbishop squared his shoulders. "Certainly. I have never been able to carry on a coherent conversation with the man." He walked out the door and Kurt followed him.
They were both silent all the way across the maze of gardens to the old man's domicile. Sister Barbara answered their knock on the door, still dressed and starched for the day.
"Is Uncle Charlie awake?"
"Of course I'm awake. I'm eating dinner." Charlie's voice sounded from two rooms away.
Sister Barbara stepped back and waved them in.
The old man smirked at the reception. "So, has the boy told you I'm sick and tired of this crap? Just write up the damned contract. Ten million dollars, err credits or crit or whatever you call money these days. Either way, I'm walking out of here, and to Hell with the lot of you. I've caught up on my sleep and feel great, and you can't stop me any more."
"Now, Brother Charles . . . "
"Don't you dare 'Brother' me! You and your God have got enough to chat about after you die as it is. Ten million dollars or I'll take your Cathedral and sell it to the highest bidder." He waved his left hand. "Tell the truth."
"You are an abomination and your presence here fouls the Cathedral. Your unholy life has forced awareness of unsavory, sinful behavior on generations of priests." The archbishop pressed his fingers to his mouth in shock.
"Shocked to find truth on your tongue? Think about how it would sound in court. Come back with the contract, a lawyer, a legal representative of the Crown, and a clerk from the Exchange to open a bank account for me and transfer ten million dollars to it."
The archbishop turned and walked out without another word. His followers looked around in puzzlement, shifted their feet uncertainly and followed. Sister Barbara was nowhere to be seen.
Halfway back to the main building, the archbishop turned suddenly and confronted Kurt. "And you! I thought you loyal enough to accept your punishment and keep your mouth shut, you Eunuch. I can prevent this marriage your father is so pleased with."
"What is your religious justification for such an action?" Kurt asked him. How far and how long would a spell of truthfulness last?
"I don't need a religious justification, I can do it to put you in your proper place. However impotence will be sufficient."
"Hmm, well. It might be a bit embarrassing to have to consummate my marriage in public, but I will if I need to." Kurt studied him. "However, since we've dropped all pretense of you being God's representative in this matter, consider this. You purchase the land the Cathedral is built on for ten million crit. I marry Liz. I persuade my illustrious uncle to move to West Hills Territory with me. Next year this time, it'll be like none of this ever happened."
"Yes, it would be quite handy for you to have everything swept under the rug."
"Yep. Everything will be quiet and
peaceful, and you will have had a year of peace to contemplate your sins and return to the Grace of God." Kurt eyed the archbishop’s red face with some concern.
"I am in the grace . . . I." The archbishop paled abruptly.
"Perhaps you should go pray for guidance. This appalling situation should never have happened. Certainly a chance to end it right now should not be passed up." Kurt walked past him to his room.
The contract was signed the next morning. The remainder of Kurt's penance was waived and he escorted Uncle Charlie and Aunt Barbara off the premises. "Let's go surprise my father, eh? Then I have a bride to track down."
"That's the spirit, Nephew!"
Sister Barbara had an expression as starched as her dress. Kurt handed her into the waiting carriage and respectfully allowed the old man in next.
He maintained an absolutely straight face as he escorted them in the side entrance used only by family and Very Important People who had immediate access to the King.
The guards on the door looked a bit uncertain, and Kurt started grinning as he realized his guests weren't expected. Marcus Gaines hustled up, frowning. "Prince Kurt, we didn't realize you were bringing guests."
"Sorry. I spotted the carriage and assumed you'd know everything. Could you please arrange a suite of rooms for Charlie Alpha and his wife?"
Kurt snickered as the man's perfectly open and welcoming face slipped a bit. "Yes, Marcus. That Charlie Alpha. He has tired of his quarters in the Cathedral complex."
Kurt glanced at his guests. "Have you two had breakfast? Yes? Would you like a tour?"
The King caught up with them in the West wing. He gripped Kurt's shoulder in greeting, but his eyes were fastened on the old man. "It really is you."
Charlie grinned. "Better than ever. I'm afraid age does odd things to one on occasion."
"I am sorry I didn't visit more often. I found your condition very saddening."
"Heh. Not half as sad as I found it. Water under the bridge. This smart lad of yours spotted the problem and talked everyone into being reasonable about it. I believe I'll follow him out to these West Hills of his, get away from the city and, heh, not act my age for awhile." He turned to Kurt. "In fact, I believe you were saying something about hunting down a bride. Why don't you take care of that. Barbara and I do need to speak frankly with each other about the future."
The King pursed his lips. "Since you are back early, we can announce the wedding tonight. Then the July fifteenth date won't seem quite so scandalously rushed. The Jamesons are back in town, and will be attending the ball here tonight. But go ahead and see her now, of course."
***
Liz's first thought was that he was even more handsome than she remembered. Her second was that he obviously hadn't been kept in a dungeon. Her third that they were probably scandalizing the household kissing like this and she didn't give a damn.
"I don't suppose we could move up a wedding date to, say, an hour from now, could we?" He sounded as breathless as she felt, as he released her and eased back almost enough to be proper.
"I don't think so." She registered an argument in the background. "Oh. Father has hired a governess to keep my . . . younger sisters in check. She thinks she should be ordering me around as well."
"Well, your father seems to be telling her to leave you alone." His eyes twinkled. "But I will of course be perfectly proper at the ball tonight, as I monopolize you and Father makes an announcement."
"Tonight?" She heard her voice squeak.
"Tonight, since the Church has decided that I'm sufficiently penitent."
"Humph!" Her father snorted. "In that case I may have to reconsider."
"It could also be that the Church was afraid to see what else I might do in His service."
"Oh?" Liz eyed him. "What did you do?"
"Well, I don't know how public it is going to be, so perhaps I should just say that an elderly relative of mine has ended his residence in the Cathedral's retirement complex and moved to the Palace. I'll introduce you as soon as convenient. I rather like the idea of bringing Uncle Charlie with us to West Hills."
The Baron eyed the prince. "I hope I get the joke, it appears to be an excellent one."
"Oh yes. I'm actually ashamed of myself for a couple of pieces of it." His eyes were twinkling madly. But they softened as they returned to Liz. "So, I take it you haven't changed your mind over the last, umm, almost year?"
"No, not a bit."
***
Kurt was relieved that the Lady's last gift hadn't been disturbed over the last ten months. Four perfectly ordinary little pebbles. He shifted them around until they were in the right order, then they formed the corners of a picture of a stone paved street, the wall of a warehouse . . .
He propped the top two up on his dresser, placed the bottom two on the floor, and stepped through to Jeramtown. Three people walking by barely spared a glance at the man stepping out of the wall of the stable.
Then one looked back in surprise. "Eh! It's the prince!"
Heads popped out of windows, and he was quickly surrounded by grinning people, townsmen and soldiers alike.
Franklin wined and dined him—at Master Corde's Inn of course—and brought him up to date. "It's boring without you. We've got a bratty ten year old as Baron, well, he's not bad, but everyone here thinks he's 'just precious' and treating him like their favorite grandkid. Hopefully it won't go to his head. Baron Randal and Baroness Amelia have come to visit twice already. So, how about you?"
"I got sent for a year and a day of church service to get these heretical ideas out of my head. They kicked me out early when I subverted an elderly relative of mine. I've got a territory to the west of here. I'm officially engaged to marry Liz in two months, and now you have no excuse to not be my Best Man."
"Using this magical transportation system? I'll be lucky to dodge a year and a day myself." Franklin grinned. "Do you know what that corridor will do to the prices the locals can get for produce if, for some odd reason, you were to rent a warehouse in the Arrival merchant's district and stick your end inside it, where no one could see people and wagons full of grain coming and going in an uncanny fashion?"
Kurt sat back and bit his lip. "Hide it? Well, maybe long enough to get everyone out here who's coming with me, so the church can't slow me down too much. They're bound to need at least five years to study the phenomenon."
Franklin nodded. "Think about the warehouse. I'll circulate rumors, so the farmers know about the possibilities." His grinned widened. "And of course there's that 'gate' to another world, which is most likely somewhere in your new territory. All we have to do is keep quiet for the next two months. Then the Church can study it all they want."
***
A quiet Royal wedding. What a joke. Liz had never been so busy in her entire life.
Two and a half months of frantic seamstresses, florists, bakers . . . endless balls and introductions to sharp-eyed power brokers of government, church, and high society. And shoes. New shoes for every single ball gown, and a new gown for every single ball.
But in the end it all came down to a few simple sentences.
"Do you, Elizabeth, under the eyes of our Lord God, take Kurt to be your husband?"
"I do."
"Do you, Kurt, under the eyes of our Lord God, take Elizabeth to be your wife?"
"I do."
"Then by the powers granted to me by the Grace of God, I pronounce you husband and wife."
Kurt didn’t need any prompting. He swept her off her feet and kissed her enthusiastically, and at length.
Chapter Fifty-two
Summer 1377
Crossroads, Kingdom of the West
"God of War!"
It wasn't the usual summons, it was someone well known, to a well known place, a call he could control, to a point. Arrive on foot, not on horseback . . .
Two old men, wrestling about, rather ineffectually. He sheathed the sword before he pounced and pried the old men apart.
"You a
ll right, Harry?" The God of War looked at him worriedly. "First time I've seen you have trouble. . . " he trailed off as he eyed the old man he was dangling in his hand. Turned him around and started grinning. "Charlie! Good god, what are you doing still alive? How did you get here?"
"I'm only a couple of years older than you, punk. Harry's one of them, and I'm finally going to kick his miserable ass. Put me down!"
Harry gawped. "I am not . . . " he trailed off looking puzzled.
"Only if you wait to start the fight until I've fetched a proper referee."
"I don't need a referee to kick ass."
"Oh, you've grown into a feisty old man." He looked over his shoulder and spotted the pair of upset youngsters. "Keep him under control for just a few minutes."
He put Charlie down—not very far down—and felt the magic ebb. He reappeared, in his comfortable working clothes, in the vineyard. He stuck his head in the door of the winery. "I believe your Prince Kurt is at the tavern. I've got to go get Logic, see you there."
God's residences had a unique feel. Even with her only living there a few years, Logic's home was an easy step for him.
Fortunately she was at home, and didn't have to be tracked down at some library or lecture hall. "What are you grinning about? You worry me when you are so gleeful."
"Come to Harry's. We have a wonderful surprise for you."
She crossed her arms and looked stubborn.
"Oh, no. I'm not going to ruin the surprise."
She glared, but when he extended his hand, she reached out and took it.
She braced her shoulders and walked in the door of the tavern.
". . . can't believe Wolfgang is defending you! Have you no sha . . . " Charlie's eyes flicked to the sound of the door closing.
Wolf sauntered around the immobile woman, and kicked back in his usual seat. "I think we can all sit down and relax now. In fact I ought to sell popcorn. Did you manage introductions before the strangling started? I'm . . . Wolfgang Oldham. Huh. I've had trouble remembering that name for centuries."
