Empire of the One (Wine of the Gods Book 14)

by Pam Uphoff

  Three of them. He poured himself a glass with a generous hand. He was going to need it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paris, European Region

  25 Yusef 1396 yp

  "We haven't spotted a forged ID all month. Either the few early arrests shut them down, or they found someone who could do a better job programming the IDs." Glue looked glum.

  "Perhaps it's time to pull in Mr. Randle?" Izzo looked up the conference table.

  Director Orku hesitated, shook his head. "No. I refuse to get impatient and break the only thread we've got. They may be sitting pat until they decide the raids on the local reprogrammers had nothing to do with them, and that no one implicated Este Randle. Cut back the surveillance. Let them think they're safe. When they need money—say at the start of the next semester—we'll start upping coverage again."

  Efge nodded. "Good idea. Now Ohbu, that bank robbery."

  "They pulled off a slick job, for amateurs, but once away, they had poor contacts for laundering that amount of money. We scooped them up last night. We're still looking for two of the peripheral actors, but we've got the brains and the brawn. And three small money men. The locals are pleased as all get out; we're gutting their worst problems."

  Uzga leaned over toward Izzo. "Jiha Street Gym tonight. Twenty-one hundred sharp."

  Director Orku asked about two other high profile cases, then dismissed them. Poor sod had seven other regions to keep track of.

  Izzo walked back to his office, wondering what the War Party insiders were going to do at the gym. And why he'd been invited. He fidgeted though the rest of the day, reading reports and . . . fidgeting. He left the office on time, and stopped for a quick snack on the way home.

  I really hate this political crap. Why the One Hell didn't I stay at precog until I could find a posting in a colony . . . and never met Xiat. He loaded his fencing gear into his car and drove to the Jiha Street gym.

  At the small club, an angry subdirector from the Exterior Relations Directorate was challenged by Efge and thrashed. Then challenged by Subminister Arlw. Then Duke. Then General Akja fenced him, playing hard, hitting him repeatedly in the lower right ribs. The poor sod withdrew, looking sickly after the fifth round. He slunk out of the salle, walking a bit hunched.

  The meeting broke up. Efge invited Izzo to walk out with him. "Such a pity, when a man loses his superior's respect and trust."

  Izzo put his unused gear back in the boot of his car and watched Efge walk away. I think I just received a message. I wonder what that poor schmuck did—or didn't do—to deserve what basically amounts to a legal beating? And what I did that required me to see that little demonstration.

  Izzo read all about Exterior Relations' subdirector Ylro's resignation in the papers the next day. The conservative paper quoted him as wishing to pursue other interests. The Dirty Insider suggested that his wife was pregnant by another man and he'd lost the respect of his subordinates and the confidence of his superiors.

  ***

  "I thought that only happened in sappy romance novels." Izzo commented later.

  Xiat snickered. "Hmm, Colonial, I must warn you to not let anyone else know you even know those things exist."

  "Their perusal was necessary to my understanding of Oner Society. Had nothing to do with the utter lack of anything else to read in some of the hinterlands I've lived in. " Izzo stopped to savor a bite of orange duck. Not a real live duck, of course. Not on the One World. Almost all meat was vat grown. Reasonable flavor, but a bit too soft for his preferences, honed by prior primitive experiences. He'd even gone hunting for wild ducks, and to his mother's dismay, brought two dead ones home. Even in the hinterlands, she'd mostly managed to find protein in packages that rendered them less dead-animal-like.

  Xiat smirked. "Good. Stick to that story if found out." She turned and eyed his glass case of actual paper books.

  "Yes. Some places we were totally off grid. Modern tech still hasn't reached some of the out of the way places my father just had to go study. Half of those are in T!ectlk*. The translations are very popular with the Natives."

  She blinked a little. "You're fluent in Tectalk? I can't even pronounce it."

  "It's different when you grow up there. Here, I tend to feel lost. There's a lot of political unrest right now, that I don't understand. I thought Akja was going to kill that poor cuckold yesterday. Why was he so furious? I'm not much of a game player . . . "

  Xiat raised an eyebrow.

  "But I've seen that fellow following Akja around, I know they've had drinks."

  "Uh oh. That's serious."

  "Is it? I rather thought that when I stopped for a drink with Efge and Uzga I dropped a ball somewhere. I'm afraid I just don't see the plays developing."

  "You are about as highly placed as you can get without playing. Start paying attention. Men like Akja are always plotting and planning and maneuvering. That fellow may have been running errands for him blind—no questions asked. Or more likely, since he's in the Exterior Directorate, running errands for Director Agni. Messages they don't want to commit to paper, perhaps? But given the clear ill will, I rather think he was in on whatever Akja is doing. And that Akja's plans are serious enough that an underling getting into trouble would jeopardize Akja's standing. His treatment is a warning to the rest."

  "But what is he plotting and planning that is so important?"

  "Most likely a presidential campaign. Which means he'll want solid men that are loyal to him in crucial spots in the party and in the Directorates. The lower level errand runners, if they do it right, can count on preferment once their principal is in office."

  "I don't run errands. And . . . well, I hesitate to bring up all the precogs about Paris, and the President. One knows I personally understand how difficult an interpretation can be. Probably ninety percent are either wishful thinking or indigestion. But . . . don't rule out some serious changes, or desire for same."

  "Well, I've heard enough at parties to know that even the Directorates are treating Orde like a temporary inconvenience. The War Party seems to be splitting their attention between the Isolationists and their internal power plays. The Isolationists are all breathless at the opportunity to seize the presidency." Her lips thinned. "They barely seem to notice President Orde, some days."

  Izzo sighed. "Indeed. At least my Director gets along with Urfa. Exterior Director Agni is going to find himself unemployed if he doesn't . . . do his job."

  Xiat sighed. "Urfa's giving him too much leash. But then he doesn't have a good replacement, yet."

  Izzo contemplated the people he'd met, around Urfa and the President. "He's a bit thin on entourage, isn't he? He needs to start luring away people at the subdirector and subministry level. Not that Efge is interested in leaving the War Party. Maybe older men, who would consider a stint as exterior director to be the pinnacle of their career, perfect for their last position before retirement."

  Xiat shook her head. "I think they're all too entrenched in their party power structure to make that sort of break." She studied him. "Pity you're so young. You'll have to marry to get into the Game properly. Play for at least another decade."

  "No. The revolving wives game is right out, for me."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe. I suppose you could see about a girl babies only spell, but I don't know if they work."

  "I checked. Seventy-five percent chance was the best they'd claim. It's better for the people who want boys. More Medgicians work on those spells, as there are ten times the clients."

  "Umm."

  "Yeah. Which means that I can't use the old seduce your opponent's wife ploy for advancement either. I wonder who did? And why are they letting it work? Are they at such a backstabbing level that any loss of face is a career ender? And was it deliberate?" Izzo dumped plates in the cleaner.

  "Of course it was deliberate. Status is all about perception. Silly fool ought to have stifled the early test results, though. Must have come as a shock."

 
Izzo considered that. However dubious, however stupid, that did seem to be the way the political parties played their games. "However, getting back to the political turmoil, the War Party doesn't seem to have a firm idea as to who should run for President. Opri, Akja, Ihle, and probably a dozen regional party organizers. I expect it to settle down, unless they're going to try the 'seduce the opponent's wife' route, en masse. Or would that be in sequence? In the round?"

  "Eep! I suspect that putting himself firmly above the other candidates is Akja's plan. I wonder what the others will do? And which of them stage-managed the wifely seduction." Her eyes got thoughtful. "With the ID forgeries case cooling off, perhaps I'll see if Urfa will let me find out who's sleeping with whom among the War Party wives."

  Izzo eyed her. She didn't want to disappear with the near ending of the forgery case? Could he have actually managed to seriously attract this gorgeous woman, or had he gotten high enough to be assigned a princess? I'm not important enough. Yet. And that kind of princess doesn't sneak in, she announces herself.

  ***

  Ydro managed to keep up the moderately friendly political discussion long enough to follow Este all the way home. The group was still sleeping above their shop, very much against the zoning rules.

  At the doorway, Este jerked to a halt. "What happened?"

  Ydro peered around him in alarm. The shelves were nearly bare.

  Kail and Heil swapped grins.

  "We should give them a pathos ridden tale about the raid. What do you think?" Kail laughed, probably at their expressions.

  Heil shook her head. "We were visited by a woman with a drive to redecorate, and her Personal Style Advisor, who was also a buyer for a large upscale store. When we told her we couldn't do any more glasswork, due to not having the right permits, she bought them all."

  "With a gleam of avarice in her eyes." Kail injected.

  "We also have a contract for ceramics of various sorts, with weekly deliveries. Should take up about half our time."

  Este sighed. "Don't let it cut into your classes. In fact, put the winos to work."

  "Former winos." Kail grinned. "Will do, Boss." She glanced over at Ydro. "Hey Yid, you need a job?"

  To get close to this bunch? "You bet!"

  Chapter Eighteen

  Paris, European Region

  3 Nicholas 1396 yp

  Paer let Crystal drift outward a bit, then turned in to take the fourth jump at an angle, reducing the sharp turn to the fifth jump. As the mare set herself to jump from the side, her forefoot slipped. A wet spot under the top layer of soft fill, probably. Covered up when they resurfaced and dragged the arena, ignored because it wasn't on the straight run at the big double barred barrier. The horse scrambled to recover, slid into the arena wall. Rebounded. Tried to jump as her speed took her into the bars. She crashed down on the heavy timbers. Paer flew over the mare's head, stopped with a jolt, a foot still in a stirrup. She landed amidst the ruin of the jump, clutching the reins desperately as Crystal lunged to her feet and dragged Paer as she backed away from the jump. Sweating, wild-eyed, she stopped, trembling, one foot off the ground, but ready to bolt . . .

  Xiat leaped forward, froze. She hadn’t seen him moving, but Dewulfe was halfway across the arena, slowing down, speaking softly. She could feel him reaching out to the horse, reassuring her mentally. "Good girl Crystal. Relax now, we'll rescue you. Everything is fine." He stayed in the mare's view and walked up to the side opposite Paer. Released the cinch with two quick jerks, unclipped the breast band. He stepped around to the other side.

  Xiat walked quietly up to them. The fall wasn’t the sort of thing she could protect the girl from. She kept her eyes up, and around. And on Dewulfe, too close, holding an injured, frightened ton of unpredictability, where an "accident" would be so easy to arrange.

  Paer was pale, nearly green. She'd come down hard across the poles, not to mention the ankle . . . She whimpered as Dewulfe gently pulled the saddle off and lowered it, and girl's leg, to the ground. He took the rein above her death grip. "Let me move her. The vet's on the way. She'll be fine."

  She let go. "She's hurt bad, don't let them . . . "

  "I won't. She's too valuable, anyway. They wouldn't dare put her down."

  The girl curled her arm protectively over her ribs, and Endi gave the mare a little push. She hopped back a stride, not putting the left fore to the ground. Xiat could see that the mare’s ankle was already swelling. All those little bones in there . . . Endi grabbed behind her knee and ensured that her leg stayed off the ground as the mare hobbled back, further away. The medics rushed in, carrying a stretcher.

  Dewulfe soothed the mare, let her take more three-legged hops backwards. Then he knelt and looked at the ankle.

  Xiat squinted. He’d opened a tiny hole in his mental shield, and only by that hole could she see the strength of the shield. She closed her eyes and listened, focused on him. His thoughts were tight and fast.

  Not too bad, little lines of fractures, but the pieces barely displaced, thank god she didn't run on it. He cast a tiny spell, hardly any energy behind it. Not unlike a manufacturing spell . . . just for a moment, Xiat could see the bones, clearer than any X-ray, and a displaced chip squeezing back where it belonged. A healing spell, another manufacturing spell, a template of a calcium carbonate molecule, shifting, no, crystallizing. Next piece.

  Xiat winced and opened her eyes, head throbbing. Telekinesis. The man was using telekinesis to put all the pieces back where they came from. And another spell to crystallize calcium carbonate from the bones across the fractures to hold everything in place.

  Xiat gritted her teeth and told herself she was one of the strongest of the One, she could at least look at what the man was doing. She focused again. More spells, familiar healing spells, to reduce swelling, increase blood circulation, cool it all down. . . . he ran a hand up the mare's leg and found more bruising and swelling, a bit of tearing of the tendon . . . he decided to leave that to the vet and returned to the ankle. More crystallization. He felt himself weakening. Didn't dare pull in power from outside, not with so many people watching, especially the vet and his team, moving in slowly to avoid spooking the mare. He let one of them take over, holding up the leg. Watched the vet tsk over tendon and ankle.

  "Not bad for a Halfer."

  Xiat opened her eyes, and the half of the headache she’d been feeling—his half—faded. He stepped back, wobbled his way back to the entry gate.

  Xiat stood up and stepped back as the medics lifted Paer to the stretcher.

  The girl looked frantic. "Xiat? Can you stay with Crystal?"

  Xiat looked around. Rael was a few feet away, the two uniformed Blackhorse guards had closed in, and Idlo and Ahba were in sight. "I will."

  The medics hustled the girl away, the rest of her security followed. The ground crew rushed in to repair the jump—there were two more horses to go, yet.

  A single frightened-looking groom was keeping War Party out of trouble in a corner. Xiat could see and hear Lady Haov’s head groom, red faced and furious, reaming Dewulfe. "You can't abandon your own mount to help someone else! A rival! And look at you, you can hardly stand up. How are you going to ride?"

  "Hopefully without falling off." Dewulfe turned his head slightly. A bevy of fans. Young and innocent, hanging over the fence.

  One of them held out a glass. "You need the sugar."

  He sucked it down while watching the paramedics carry off the stretcher with Paer. Then Crystal hobbled out, her foreleg wrapped and supported. The grounds men were already clearing the wreckage, rebuilding the jump. He thanked his drink provider, who half climbed the barrier to kiss him. Then he mounted and took War Party out for a few warm up jumps in the outside arena. The horse was impatient and irritated. The ground crew finished, drove off in their cart. Xiat paused to watch.

  War Party pranced and huffed on a short tour through the arena, then Endi returned to the starting area, nodded to the judge. The timing lights lit and War Par
ty leaped forward. Dewulfe managed to aim him at the right jumps in the right order, keep him away from the slippery spot, and slow him enough to avoid disaster on the in-and-out. But he brought down two rails, which put him out of the jump off.

  Xiat scurried off and caught up with Crystal’s painful progress at the vet’s station. Two X-rays later, Xiat was confirming that the mare was worth the attempt to save her, and helped wrap her up for travel.

  The vet's aide rushed back from the tech trailer with the developed X-rays.

  The vet whistled. "Beautiful repair. If you keep her calm enough, off it enough, to heal, she'll be fine."

  Major Eppa arrived with a low slung trailer, pads and assistants to get the mare home. "I saw it all on the screen, and started out, hoping it wasn't too bad." He eyed the X-rays and winced. "Damn good job, I don't recall ever seeing anything like those repairs before." He nodded respectfully to the vet, who was still studying the X-rays.

  The vet was muttering under his breath. "Halfer my ass . . . where did he learn to do that? What, exactly did he do?"

  Xiat detoured to pick up Paer’s saddle and other gear, and caught the rest of the debacle.

  Mistress Haov in full voice. "Bad enough that you helped an opponent, but incapacitating yourself and embarrassing me like this is inexcusable! All this on top of apologizing to the little witch! You are fired! Do not bother coming back. I'll have your things boxed up and shipped to you."

  Dewulfe looked down at her, expressionless, shrugged and walked away.

  Xiat collected Paer’s gym bag, with change of clothes, watching Dewulfe as he stripped the gear off his saddle, and added it to a stuffed bag.

  The Head Groom trotted up, a bit pale, now. "The Mistress told me to inspect . . . "

  Endi opened up the bag and displayed his gear. "War Party's bit is mine, but I won't take it from the next poor fellow who has to try to slow him down and make him pay attention."