Growing Up Magic (Wine of the Gods Book 9)

by Pam Uphoff

  Staven stood up, feeling clumsy and unreal. "Damien . . . "

  It was the first time he'd called him anything but "Uncle Day."

  There could not possibly be a sheen of tears in the man's eyes as he stood and turned away. Picked up a brush and walked out to brush the horses.

  Staven stepped to the doorway, looked at the house, and all the sparks, bright and dim alike. Witches and Earthers, and old Bert. King's Own. They've always watched me, whenever I was around . . . Damien. And Mihaela, the daughter of his business partner. Is Code an Earther, too? He turned back to Devil, and saddled him quickly. Left without saying good by to anyone. Especially not Mihaela, who would tie him even closer to . . . the enemy.

  ***

  Staven rode out with Rebo the next day, a selection of guards trailing.

  "So, what have you been up to, while I've been gone?" Staven looked over at his younger brother, surprised to see a scowl on his face. "Sorry, do I sound like your mother?"

  Rebo laughed suddenly. "Hell no. It's Rufi riding my ass all the time. Mother just flutters. Stupid . . . " He straightened, looking to the side. "Hey Garit! Any of them belong to you?"

  Staven turned and stared. Garit and two other young men stood among a flock of gorgeous, glowing, mouthwateringly irresistible women.

  "Rebo, Staven!" Garit looked relieved. "Hey, do you know Lord Dominic Marsh from Desert Valley and Lord Keith Rivolti from Ferris Province?"

  Staven eyed Lord Keith. He'd be the grandson of the traitor.

  "And Flori, Lida, Jasi, Wenda, Kessi and Hoon." Garit gave a general wave at the women, not bothering to differentiate among them. In fact he looked happy for an excuse to leave them. Dominic, on the other hand, put a possessive arm around one of them.

  Staven shook himself a bit. They must be witches, to glow so brightly. Old Gods!

  Rebo swung down from his handsome black mare and walked up to the group, nearly mesmerized. "Hello, Ladies!" His eyes were locked onto the gaze of the woman with the brightest glow. In fact, she was most of the glow Staven had mistaken for a group effect.

  Staven slid down from Devil's high back—a present from that damned spy! Concentrate on something else. He took a shaky breath and stepped up to Garit. "Who are they?"

  "Mistresses of some of the fellows in my rotation." He closed his mouth firmly, as if working to avoid saying something else. His mouth tightened further as Rebo stepped right into the tight group, with a fair amount of touching. "Introducing them to Rebo isn't the best of ideas, but better these women than . . . " He shut his mouth again.

  I think I'd better find out what Rebo's been up to.

  A ripple of tinkling laughter from the flock of women. They moved away, leaving Rebo staring after them. The bright woman looked back at Rebo. And winked.

  ***

  Bert was in heaven. Dinner had been fantastic and now . . . "When Damien said to grab you, just because of the village you came from, I thought he was throwing out an excuse." He inhaled the salty smoky fried bacon smell. Drooled over crisp, perfect shredded potatoes. Two eggs soft and luscious as . . . no, he wasn't going to go there. He was a respectable retired soldier. If there was such a thing. And anyway, Mica's breasts were much more . . . He cut the thought off and started eating. I hope it takes a good long while for Mica to find a job.

  ***

  "What's Garit's group like? They can't be worse than the batch I went through the rotation with." Staven grinned. "Of course, having just finished my rotation, I'm an expert." He leaned back and let the servant slide the plate of rare roast beef in front of him. Rufi was eating in the Palace tonight, so the two younger bachelors had the place to themselves.

  Fossi snickered. "Yeah. I hated the rotation. Felt like I was under a microscope the whole time. And from the reports, you were about the only sober young lord in your whole rotation."

  Staven nodded. "Yeah. If they didn't get falling down drunk at least twice a week, they considered themselves abused, and got even more worthless. I don't think a single one got an offer from the Army. In retrospect, I wish I'd waited at least another year. Been bigger, stronger, more confident. I think everyone wanted me away from Rebo."

  Fossi winced. "Yeah, and I'm afraid he hasn't improved. Garit, on the other hand, has. A year away from Rebo and he's acting like, well, a young officer ought to act."

  "Garit is not Rebo's fault! Garit has just as many ass-kissing nobles trying to use him as the rest of us." Staven felt his face flush. "Well, Rebo has twice the pressure. And he's the youngest. Is he going to start his rotation in the fall?"

  "Don't bite. I know he's spoiled, but . . . well. Never mind. Right now, I wish Garit was around a few less of those toadies. I'm not sure this rotation through Karista is a good idea."

  Staven nodded. He'd picked up all the Palace gossip earlier. Which had included the latest item—Rebo running off with a male prostitute. More likely just a young friend, but vicious tongues in the Palace loved to take the worst possibility as fact. But right now he wanted Fossi's opinion, not the pages' and maids'. "Lord Asti's a surprise. And even Dominic seems . . . not a snot. But who the hell is that Xen person?"

  "Hey. He's an odd one, isn't he? Rufi sponsored him, son of a friend or something. One of those Foothill Province egalitarian hermits."

  "Ah. So he probably is a lord, he just doesn't much bother with the title." Staven shrugged. "But what about . . . I heard something about a private brothel?"

  Fossi rolled his eyes. "Six of Garit's group of ten seem to have acquired former Auralian whores as mistresses. Garit laughed when I asked about orgies. He claims the women are good cooks and when they all get together the men just talk and relax, no sex at all."

  But he wasn't comfortable around them. I don't think Garit swings the other way, but you never know. Could it be that he thinks they're spying for Auralia?

  And that one was setting a hook in Rebo.

  Staven raised his eyebrows. "So . . . is there going to be a problem with Rebo being around them? Half of them glow, you know. They may not be trained, but they are witches."

  Fossi looked surprised. "Glow? Like magic? Or the Royals? I haven't actually seen any of them. And maybe I ought to teach you, Rebo and Garit how to shield."

  "That's . . . wait, we aren't wizards or anything."

  "Rufi says we're a sort of mage. Not really magic, but we glow and attract people, charm them subconsciously. That's why we've got so much charisma." Fossi shrugged. "It's no worse than any of his other tall tales."

  "Huh. Really? That's . . . so how do you shield?"

  "Harry taught me this, when I had trouble as a kid. My foster father, before the King's Mage found me. It's a mental shield, to keep other people's thoughts out and your own thought in, so your mind can't be read."

  Harry again? He tried to control a smile. Obviously not the same Harry that Uncle Day . . . that Damien the Earth spy . . . claims is the God of Travelers. I really don't think a god raises abandoned royal bastards. He slumped. I wish I didn't know about Uncle Day. He shoved that weak thought away. Think about something else. "A mental shield? How do you do it?"

  Chapter Four

  23 December 3505

  Early winter 1389

  Another ball. At a town mansion of Lord Deitrick Marsh, the Land Grant Holder of section two, Desert Valley Province. Well named. Sheep, goats and a scattering of barely profitable mines.

  Staven tried to be charitable—a lot of Lords kept a house in the kingdom's capital. The dreary nature of the homeland didn't necessarily have anything to do with it. "I think his oldest son is on his two year rotation."

  "Ha!" Rebo swept a sneer around the room. "Everyone knows Dominic's a bastard. Deitrick only landed a Duke's daughter because he was willing to overlook that she'd been caught whoring around."

  Staven winced.

  On his other side, Garit curled a lip. "See, Rebo? If you'd stuck to Ladies, you wouldn't be paying maintenance for, what is it? Eight bastards?"

  Rebo's tee
th gritted audibly.

  Staven forced a laugh. "Oh, is that where all your money goes? How the hell do you keep that many mistresses happy?" He kept his voice down and dropped a glare at Garit, who shut his mouth and nodded acknowledgement of a public faux pas.

  "Oh, excuse me, got to see a man . . ." Garit turned and slipped away.

  Rebo growled. "I don't keep them. They're whores, they can damn well keep themselves. No telling who the actual fathers of those bastards are—Rufi's twisted Father's arm and made me pony up money for the brats anyway."

  "Heh. Nasty trick, making you pay. Trying to make you behave, I suppose." Steven grinned over at his little brother. "I'm betting it hasn't worked."

  Rebo laughed. "Of course not." He swaggered off toward the bar, and Staven sighed. Looked around hopefully . . . someone was glowing across the room, and he edged through chatting people to see if Mihaela . . . it was the women Garit's buddies had picked up. Or at least the one that had flirted with Rebo. She was chatting with another woman. A young officer was standing stiffly behind her.

  He doesn't like being ignored, and she's using that to keep him focused on her. Nasty bitch.

  Staven had picked up enough "mental shielding" from Fossi's lecture to dim his own glow. Not that he could see it himself, but Fossi has informed him that his mind would be much harder to read, as well as making him less of a magnet for women or political sycophants. He watched Garit and the host's son walking over to join the young officer near the women, while trying to envision a cap covered with mirrors inside and out, reflecting thoughts both directions.

  The young officer turned to chat with Garit and Dominic. The women walked away, unnoticed. The brightly glowing one led the way . . . to Rebo.

  It is none of my business. Unless that young lord decides to attack Rebo. Staven turned away again, and spotted one of his own friends . . . well one of the idiots he'd gone through the rotation with. Safe to chat with, at any rate.

  "Evening, Hugo." Staven eyed the two men Hugo was with.

  "Staven. Do you know Lord Mathew Gallery? And Lord Shy Mason?"

  Gallery stuck his hand out. "Prince Staven, a pleasure."

  The man had a calculated grip, matching the assessing gaze. And just for a moment, he glowed brightly enough to hurt, even through the possibly imaginary mirror hat. "And my daughter, Lady Eden."

  Staven hadn't even noticed the shy creature almost hiding behind her father. He softened his mirrors as he bowed over her hesitantly proffered hand. Glow. Bright, unshielded, innocent . . . couldn't possibly be sixteen yet.

  "You must come to my opening tomorrow. My home is more museum than domicile, I'm an art collector." Gallery dipped fingers into his fine wool coat and pulled out folded papers, the sort that high society used for formal invitations. He proffered two. "Bring some friends. Bring your brother." Blinding bright glow.

  Ouch! Can't he control it? "I'd be delighted to attend. I can't speak for Rebo, of course."

  "Of course."

  Staven accepted the invitations. "Nice to see formal manners surfacing again."

  Lord Shy curled a lip. He was in his mid-thirties and pudgy.

  Gallery was fit and looked ageless. Staven puzzled over him. Confident, powerful, not cocky enough to be young, despite his dark hair, untouched by gray.

  Old enough to have an almost grown daughter. Staven shrugged away the puzzle. "So, what are you up to, now that you've escaped from the Army, Hugo?

  "M'father's put me to work while he fishes for a 'suitable wife' for me. Gads, you wouldn't believe . . . " He gabbed on while the other men retreated.

  Staven kept half an eye on Gallery, and spotted him making an early departure, the shy daughter on his arm. Rebo, on the other hand, stayed late, attempting to impresses another man's mistress.

  Chapter Five

  24 December 3505

  Early winter 1389

  Staven bit the bullet and ambushed Rufi in the stables. "I need to talk to you about two things. Rebo being the most important. I heard about the eight bastards, possibly not even his, and now he's being played by a real slick . . . well, I've heard she's Auralian. Is there anything that I ought to know?" He bit his lip. "And not mention in front of Damien Malder?"

  Rufi blinked at that. "Huh. Guess you're old enough to know the truth. Umm, Malder. Well, he's marooned, and even before that he'd been known to drop us a hint or warning." He huffed out an irritated breath. "I wish Rebo'd had the good influences you had in your childhood. The orgy at the temple of Ba'al apparently had to be seen to be believed. Talk to Deena she was there. Five young women—one had twins and one had triplets—then the next year he ran off with a . . . bad influence, even younger than Rebo. The boy is driving us to distraction."

  "And this Auralian woman?"

  "Try to get him away from her. Warn me if I need to do something drastic."

  "Right." Staven eyed his uncle. "Wait. Triplets? Not the ones whose mother was murdered and . . . Malder adopted?"

  "Yep. And damn it, I like the man. If he weren't an Earther, I'd be delighted to have your almost stepfather raising possible royal triplets." Rufi eyed him. "Yes, you have every right to be upset about it. But you knew he was a foreigner and you've been very good about not talking about anything sensitive when you're around him."

  Staven looked away. Rufi likes him? Approves of him? "Well. Let's concentrate on Rebo, for now. I'll try to divert either him or that . . . woman . . . Umm. I just had an idea . . . that I hope I don't come to regret." Because if that woman is attracted to Rebo because of this wretched glow, I just met a man who glows even brighter. And if Rebo is attracted to her because of her glow . . . I know another young lady whose got a pretty damn good glow, too.

  ***

  ". . . just need to figure out how to impress her."

  Staven looked over to where Rebo and Garit were talking.

  Garit rolled his eyes. "Haven't you gotten into enough trouble with women already? And a hardened prostitute? I thought you preferred virgins?"

  Staven snickered. "I suppose you could invite her to some of the more exclusive parties. Assuming she'd actually drop her pretty boy money source."

  "What do you mean, exclusive? I just go where Janic says is safe . . . " Rebo's eyes narrowed. "You're talking about something he hasn't cleared, aren't you?"

  Staven shrugged. "I don't have as many restrictions as you, the Crown Heir, have to live with." He fished in his pockets. "I got an invite last night to a party in an art gallery tonight. . . I . . . don't know if your girlfriend would be interested." He frowned dubiously at the invitation.

  Rebo snatched it from him. Opened it and read, eyebrows climbing. "An exhibition of Art, both Ancient and Living? Admit two, all hoity toity like the Palace invites? Heh, maybe she'd be impressed. I'll give it a try, thanks, brother." He walked off.

  Garit swapped a glance back and forth between them. "Staven! Do you have any idea how much trouble that idiot can get into?"

  Staven smiled. And pulled out the other invite. "Why don't we go find out? I have a plan."

  Chapter Six

  24 December 3505

  Early winter 1389

  It looked like an ordinary mansion on the outside, with some fascinating statuary flanking the door. A prospector standing to the right, studying a rock through a lens. Incredibly detailed, cast in bronze. The bronze woman on the other side of the doorway, Staven instantly identified as a witch. Her left hand was raised for spell casting, her face remote, attention inward.

  Although as far as he knew, witches didn't generally run around naked. How does an artist get so much expression into metal, evoke so much from the viewer?

  Garit boggled at bit at them. Staven handed over the invitation, and they strolled in as the very stiff and proper butler announced them, with all titles appended. Master Horace at the Palace couldn't have been stiffer.

  Inside the door, another bronze. Two little girls wide-eyed in wonder.

  And the pictures. Big oils, str
eet scenes from before the Dark Ages, with their powered vehicles . . . like Earth. Landscapes glowing with light. More statues. A huge bronze bull head lowered to charge, fury in every tense muscle. A gentleman admiring a painting, drink in hand, old fashioned suit. If he hadn't been bronze, Staven would have thought him real.

  "Living Art. I thought your friend was being pretentious." Garit looked around. "So, where's our host, and more to the point, where's Rebo?"

  They were late arrivals; if there had been a reception line, it had already broken up. Staven nodded across the room. "The tall man." He strolled over, stopping dead at the coiled rattlesnake.

  "I saw a live one almost that big once." Garit stepped wide around its low platform, as if expecting it to strike. And stopped dead to blink at another exquisite oil painting.

  "You like it?" Gallery walked up behind them.

  "It's brilliant. Takes my breath away." The prince turned away reluctance in every line.

  "Garit, may I introduce Lord Mathew Gallery?" Staven glanced around. "My Lord, Prince Garit Negue."

  Halfway through extending his hand, Gallery's head jerked around toward the entry.

  Staven turned.

  Rebo was squiring the Auralian woman through the door. She was oblivious to the artwork, staring across the room at Gallery. Glowing.

  Gallery froze for a long moment, then jerked back into motion. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince Garit. Excuse me." He headed straight for the woman.

  "So far, so good." Staven muttered. "But perhaps we should get closer, and hear what is said."

  Garit nodded. "Who the hell is that man? His glow is like Father and Uncle Rufi combined."

  "His daughter's pretty bright as well. I figure if the father can't distract that woman, maybe the daughter can lure Rebo away."