by Mark Eller
I could kill him, Kim thought. Warrior hard and training tough, Mac Harris little realized his many small vulnerabilities. Kim pushed the idea back to the depths. The emptiness demanding she kill was temporarily abated because the One God's presence hummed inside her holes, strong, though not as strong as when she touched Aaron. At those times, His presence suffused every layer of her being.
"My fault," Aaron admitted. "I didn't want to accept war as inevitable. I put matters off far too long."
"Yes, you did," Melna told him. "Now you're leaving us with the mess." She looked like she chewed on something sour. "Another thing I want to talk about, can we stop this ferbog? One of the contestants, a woman named Choict, died yesterday. She drank so much milk her stomach burst."
"No," Patton answered for Aaron. "They'd kill us if we tried, and that's the same as handing everything over to Clack."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Positive," he answered, ending the discussion. Patton was their Chin expert. More than anyone else, Melna handled the small details of running the scattered empire. Patton handled the Chins.
* * *
Several hours later, excitement welled up in Kim, though she refused to let it show. Aaron was making his rounds, talking to the last of his people. When he finished, they would leave. It was at those times when he became most completely engrossed in the use of his Talent that the last bonds he kept on the One God' Power released. Only then did she know what it felt like to fully commune with a god.
She followed while Aaron inspected the work being done on the university. Most of the buildings, Kim saw, were now up, though much interior work still needed doing. The surrounding wall seemed complete, but she found herself confused by the trenches and holes being dug outside of those walls.
"A university," Aaron told her, "needs green grass. We'll eventually have waterwheels to drive pumps. The pumps will send water through a series of underground pipes and be emitted from sprinkler heads. That way the grass will always be green."
"But there are no trenches inside the walls," she pointed out.
"Not yet," Aaron told her. "I've only so much pipe. Right now, I need the sprinkler system completed before anything else."
She looked at the trenches, the laid out pipes and lines and objects that must be the sprinkler heads he talked about. Kim shook her head. The idea of going through such bother so the grass would stay green during summer seemed just a little bit around the bend, especially when other projects, seemingly more important, waited.
"Are you ready?" he finally asked an hour later.
Kim nodded, too anxious to speak.
Holding out his hand, Aaron clasped her larger one. "Let's go."
Flicker
* * *
The summer palace of His Royal Majesty of Halimut was, perhaps, not the greatest palace Prophet had seen. Squat and sprawling, it possessed a definite odor of mold. The mortar holding its brickwork in place was crumbling, and not every gargoyle still possessed a head.
Even so, the place did have certain amenities, scrubbed floors, clean linen, and plenty of food. It also had a large suite reserved just for him, and the suite had a ceramic tub. Most of all, the palace was filled to bursting with women willing to help him bathe. Even now, two of those women, the most delectable ones he had yet found, ran soapy hands across his bare chest and thighs. They giggled, but he did not mind. Prophet felt like giggling himself.
Hell, he felt like doing more than giggling. More like bursting out with a good belly laugh. He felt like running to the rooftop garden to raise his head to the sky and crow over the superstitious rabble surrounding him.
It was good to be Prophet of the Lord. It beat the hell out of the other scams he and the Khante brothers pulled off over the years.
"Does He really speak to you?" one of his ladies asked. A secretive smile played about her lips. Amazon tall and wasp waisted, she owned a shape fated to drive men wild. Merry lights danced within her green eyes, and her long blond hair provided poor cover for her bare breasts as her fingers crept higher on his thigh.
Kelina, he remembered. She was called Kelina. Her husband had killed one man and three women for flirting with her. Looking the man in the eye as he handed over his wife for Prophet's use had been a pleasure.
Being Prophet really was good, especially when Halimut's king wasn't in on the scam.
"Yes," he whispered when Kelina's fingers brushed against her target. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the sensation of her strokes while the other woman kissed his eyelids.
"And the Lady?" the other woman, Jamile, asked when her kisses finished. "Does She speak to you?" Her lips brushed his belly. Opening his eyes, Prophet saw the dark sweep of her hair lying in the water.
"Sometimes," he answered. "Twice."
Turning her head, her warm cheek rested on his belly as her eyes sought his. A gentle smile of religious wonder graced her lips.
Prophet smiled. She was an enticing woman, this sprite. Her youth was on its outward passage, but she remained comely, full, and rich textured. Her features were those of an aristocrat. She is, he thought, exactly what a person would expect in a queen. The king was a generous man, a not unusual event of late. Jamile was Prophet's third queen this week.
"Speak to Her for me," she begged. "Ask Her to grace me with a child."
"I will," he promised, and then she turned her head. Warm lips engulfed his erection.
Yes, he thought once again, releasing a satisfied sigh, it really is good to be Prophet of the Lord.
* * *
"You have done excellently," One complimented, her eyes alight with satisfaction. "Turner will be surprised when he discovers he hasn't the resources he expects."
"Then the protests are going successfully?" Five asked.
"Yes and the riots will soon start on schedule." One smiled. "Our people are in place. If things go according to plan, Turner's holdings in this part of the world will be ours by the year's end. It should go a long way toward restoring our family fortunes."
"After which, there is Bivins," Five added. Acid hate dripped from his voice.
Prophet of the Lord frowned. These two were entirely too involved in their own affairs.
"Yes," One agreed. She turned her attention toward Prophet. "You are doing excellently. People are joining the cause of their own will. We should be able to field our forces soon."
"It is not I who is doing excellently," Prophet of the Lord told her. "I am only the messenger. The Lord's will is the message."
"He's starting to take this all too seriously," Five noted. As always, his face was indistinct, shadowed beneath a heavy cowl, and gauze wrappings covered the lower portion of his face. Prophet gave the man his best hurt but forgiving look, trying to catch his eye. It did not work, as always. Five was a restless soul.
"I am the Voice of the Lord," Prophet intoned. "Your disbelief does not change what is."
"Good Gods," Leo Khante exclaimed. "I think he's really starting to believe it. Gary, my lad, I hate to break it to you, but despite your recent rise in circumstances, you're not some special Voice of God. You're just a two-bit grifter with a Talent Stone. You might remember I was there when our friends gave it to you."
In past years, when Prophet was a child and his name was still Gary, He and the Khante brothers had been inseparable. Prophet now wondered about the wisdom of his past choices. He looked at the Khante, taking in the thin, bony frame and the sharp edged nose. Those things along with the thinning hair on the top of his head said this one was Leo, the one who first brought him into the Khante gang. At first, the tiny gang of three merely borrowed items from empty homes. Soon, they graduated from break-and-grabs to pick-pocketing, and then, after reading a pile of books they once "found" inside a home, they became financial consultants and professors of any discipline suiting their most recent scam. Leo, Prophet remembered, had been a good friend, a good partner, and a replacement for the older, wiser brother perverse nature and the flu had not allowed
Prophet to keep. Leo had been good to him then, but those times were over and Leo's usefulness almost gone.
"I am Prophet of the Lord," he said, focusing the full strength of his Talent on Leo's mind. Laughing inside, he watched Leo's eyes glaze.
"Gary is good," the new woman said. "I doubted his ability to pull this thing off when I joined up. Those doubts are gone. He completely looks the part."
"Too much so," One grumbled. "He no longer admits the truth, not even to us."
"Of course he doesn't." she explained. "He has to live his role to keep from slipping. He's under the public eye. Even his nights, when he's sleeping, aren't private because he's expected to have bedmates. He can't afford to slip even once. He can't afford to admit the truth, even to himself."
Prophet of the Lord felt a warm surge of satisfaction. This woman almost had it right. She had almost reached the truth. Once, he felt the way she described, but no more. For now and forever, he really was the Lord's Prophet. His followers numbered in the tens of thousands. One day they would be millions. When that day arrived, he would be the one resting his righteous posterior on the perfectly puffed pillows of a royal throne.
"Your name?" he demanded of the woman.
"Montpass," she said. "My name is Brenda Montpass, and I've wanted to meet you ever since I saw your pamphlet in Isabella."
He raised an inquiring eyebrow. "I have many pamphlets. The contents of each are different."
"It talked about the evils of man," she told him. "Most specifically, it talked about the evils of one man."
"Aaron Turner?"
"Yes." The corner of her lips turned upward, but no humor showed in her eyes. They displayed only wariness and despite. "You're trying to destroy him. I want to help. Nobody knows Turner better than I do."
"That," said One, "is a very arrogant statement. What proof do you offer?"
Brenda held out her hand, palm side up. Flexing her fingers, she closed them in a fist-tight grip. "I have him here. I know all the factories and industries he owns. I know where the people special to him live, and I know where to strike for the greatest effect."
"Proof," One demanded once again.
"I offer you knowledge you already have," Brenda said. "I know everything about Aaron Turner, including his enemies, Mistress Balandice."
One released a surprised gasp. Five laughed quietly. Instantly, Brenda's gaze fastened on him. "Mister Andrews, I wouldn't laugh if I were you. Your name is high on Turner's list. Your factory in Efran supposedly makes shoes. I know it manufactures substandard explosive powder. Not nearly so powerful as the stuff I'm used to dealing with, but it's good enough for the double barreled rifles your cousin is producing. Crude affairs, truly, but they'll be deadly in the hands of your new army."
"How do you know these things?" he demanded.
"I am a very thorough researcher especially when I'm motivated," she informed him, "For one, both your pictures surfaced while I researchedTurner."
A bark of appreciative laughter sounded. Surprised, Prophet discovered the laughter was his. It came from deep in his belly and burst out of his mouth without asking a by-your-leave from his brain. One, Balandice, looked at him as if she feared he teetered on the fringe. Her obvious apprehension made him laugh even harder, made him laugh until he bent at the waist, made him laugh until his throat was sore. He sat down, head hurting, feeling giddy from a lack of air.
"Leave him be," he heard Leo say. "He'll recover eventually. He's had these spells since he was a kid."
"The man is insane," Prophet heard Andrews say in a voice almost buried beneath somebody's laughter.
"Maybe," Leo agreed, "but it doesn't matter. Insane or not, Gary has always been effective."
Chapter 12
Seven days later Kim's hand clasped Aaron's right hand while Missy grabbed his left elbow. Their other hands held tight to Delmac's so they all appeared to be an outward facing circle standing on the air.
Aaron fell. The overhead clouds were layered and high and thin, whispering shrouds of gossamer webs. The air felt crisp, cool against Aaron's skin as it pulled against his clothes, reaching through the fabric to caress his body. His senses felt alert, awake, and aware as the grasslands and hills rose to meet him.
Below them, herds of beasts dotted the landscape amid the green of grass, trees, and bushes. Sliver thin threads of rivers and streams cut thin lines. A long lake dominated the ponds surrounding it.
"Nothing," Missy called out.
"Nothing," Kim agreed.
"Perteet," Aaron's Zisst added from its perch across his shoulders. Aaron felt his pet shift its weight. He sensed motion from the Zisst perched on Missy's shoulders. Somehow, the animals seemed connected.
Raising his eyes, Aaron fastened his gaze on a drift of cloud several miles distant and more than a mile above them, making it his next target.
Flicker
And they were there, looking over a new expanse of empty land, another chunk of the Chin Empire. Aaron's gaze wandered, seeing hues of green, brown, and blue, seeing the impossible because the grey and brown hues created the form of a striking snake. The snake's proportions were enormous, perhaps miles across from its beginning to its end. Humped mounds of manmade hills surrounded each of the similar representations they had so far seen. Aaron had walked over those hills while traveling with the Chins. He had walked over some of those fantastic animal renditions without knowing what lay beneath his feet.
"I don't understand," Kim called against the wind of their fall. "Why would anybody build something like this? It's so big nobody can see it except from up here."
"Unless they were Talent Masters with Talent Stones," Missy added.
Aaron shrugged, but he remembered his wonder a few days earlier when first laying eyes on the cave painting. At one time, there had been civilization in these lands. The giant earth mound animals proved it had been one of consequence and vision.
"Religion," Missy yelled. "If you ask the experts, everything comes down to religion. Look at the stuff they've pulled out of the site."
Fat women, Aaron remembered. Aidan and Leona had unearthed the remnants of several pottery statues, each representing several fat women owning unreasonably large breasts. Aidan said they represented the Earth Mother and her daughters, symbols of the dependence felt by those at the mercy of the unforgiving seasons.
Smiling, Leona had given her opinion, saying they may very well be nothing more than idle hands finding something to do during the long winter months, or perhaps they represented an ideal of beauty among a people living hand to mouth. Of course, she added, the figures may have been an attempt to recreate some tribal member who was fondly remembered. Later she admitted herself unwilling to believe any theory so far espoused, despite Aidan's insisting religion was the key.
Kim's fingers tightened around Aaron's. "I think I see cattle."
Turning his head, Aaron followed her gaze and had to agree. Buried beneath a thin haze of raised dust were the heaving brown backs of a Chin herd.
Flicker
A sea of brown fur and ivory horns stretched out beneath them. The herd was on the move, an undulating mass tearing up the ground beneath its feet. These cattle were migrating, traveling to fresher grass, but the tribe claiming them was nowhere to be seen.
"There," Kim shouted. Gesturing with a nod of her head, she indicated a spot further toward the north. Aaron followed her directions and saw tents, trails, and small dots indicating people. His vision momentarily blurred because his eyes watered from the wind of their fall.
"A gathering of more than one tribe." Kim released her hold on Aaron's hand so she could point. "There, and there. You can see where other tribes are converging."
She brought her hand back, and Aaron made a quick grab for it because they were already starting to drift apart.
Flicker
"Don't be afraid," Aaron told them. "We'll fall almost to the ground, but I'll transfer us again before we hit."
"I don't like it when
my body makes squit sounds," Missy warned. "Make sure the landing is gentle."
"I've been practicing," he assured her. "Flex your knees because there'll be a one or two foot drop."
Behind him, Delmac grunted.
They were, he saw, not unseen. Faces raised and fingers pointed. He eyed the ground carefully, gauging the best place to land. There. A cleared area at least thirty feet across.
Flicker
Aaron watched carefully. Experience had taught him to wait as long as possible. The closer he came, the more detail he could absorb. The ground rushed closer. Missy's grip tightened. Kim's hand relaxed, and Zisst purred from where it lay across his shoulders. Ten feet from the ground, Aaron transferred.
Flicker
"Oomph."
His knees flexed as they met the earth. He staggered, releasing his grip on the two women's hands because Missy fell, pulling Kim off balance with her. Half flung from its perch, Missy's Zisst squalled. Only the grip of its fore claws on her jacket kept it from hitting the ground.
Grumbling, Missy rose to her feet. "Might I suggest roads and cities," she complained. "You wouldn't have to go to so much trouble finding your loyal subjects if you built someplace for them to stay."
"I'm working on it," Aaron promised as figures moved toward them.
"Work harder."
"My emperor has arrived," Ard Chuk said solemnly as he approached. Four women, dressed in clothing of rank, stood respectfully behind him. "I hoped you received my message."
He spoke to Aaron, but Aaron saw his eyes flicker warily toward Kim. Aaron was not sure, but he thought he saw some faint reflection of fear.
Unconcerned by Ard Chuk's reaction, Kim leaned over to set her Zisst down. Missy's Zisst made a rumbling noise and leaped from her shoulders as she rose to her feet.
