Wine of the Gods 26: Embassy

by Pam Uphoff

  Chapter Fifty

  10 October 3516

  Embassy

  Napoleon Zambrano stalked out of the embassy building after the departing army officers. "You cannot just confiscate every single recording I made. I demand copies. No, I demand my originals. You may have copies when . . . after I appeal this, this . . . outrageous search and seizure warrant!"

  They ignored him. "The Earth wasn't even involved in the police actions I recorded. Disco needs these records!"

  He stopped and fumed as they got into a car, and zipped away. Ground his teeth and stalked back inside the embassy. Montgomery was still in the lobby.

  "No wonder you were so accommodating, and letting me stay here. I cannot believe you have so little respect for the press . . ."

  At Montgomery's gesture, two large men grabbed him and threw him out the door.

  Perfect. They are completely fooled. He dusted himself off and stalked off, head down so they couldn't see the grin he couldn't hold in any longer.

  I'll get one of my backup data crystals from Q. They'll never get them all. Bwahahaha! Just wait till I edit them and send them to the bureau. They'll be all over the news. And I'll bet I can sell copies to every world with an embassy here. Especially the Oners.

  ***

  ". . . ask for some training with Disco, learn how to shield against or counteract some of those spells. How to combine the sword work with the spells." Learn how to shape change. Rael sat back. "And we might want to import some of those horses." Even if Pyrite is obviously a genius within the whole exceptionally smart horse group . . . damn that was an impressive critter, and a truly amazing way to fight.

  Snort of derision from Agni. Even Ajki looked skeptical.

  Heh. Didn't expect you to like the idea.

  "Thank you Princess. Now, Action Leader Efda? About these ordinary stun and spin spells that blew straight through your shields. Was it just raw power or were they different in enough detail to explain . . . "

  Efda was covered with the thin red lines of fast healing cuts. A shattered slice spell that had gotten through his shield, fortunately with very little power left. The teamers were making a joke of it—the near-death of a thousand paper cuts—but there had been a bit of shock still in their eyes.

  They'd snagged some of Xen's wine and sought privacy with some willing women, apparently scandalizing the diplomatic contingent. Importing the, umm, Action Subdivision's cleaning staff, which just happens to be composed of party girls, for a three day beach party. Not that I believe a word of what they say went on, but the guys sure looked happier and healthier the next time anyone saw them.

  Rael shut out the much repeated testimony. I didn't get Rior. He was much more than I'd expected. Not just genetically modified, not just physically modified. He's been training with the Comet Fall magicians and picked up quite a few tricks.

  Well, if I wondered if I was going to ever see En . . . Xen again, I think the answer is now yes. We need those magical techniques, those variations on what we do—that we can't shield against. Yet.

  Epilog for the Bad Guys

  It was six in the morning in Calgary when two men, four young women, and a large black goat ran out of nowhere onto a suburban lawn. And kept running, ignoring the looks they got from the neighbors. The goat had people looking as well. Fortunately the transdimensional corridor was hidden just a few blocks away. It took them to a huge city called Houston, chosen with the thought that they'd be more able to get lost on a city of millions. The corridor they'd used ended on the side of a store; some men unloading a van gave them an odd look. Turned to frown at the wall they'd just walked out of. There was an illusion over the corridor, but it could be found by feel . . .

  "Jade? Can you collapse that corridor so we can't be followed?" Rior frowned down at the goat. "Eldon, did you mail the contract for the office?"

  "Mahahaha!" The goat nodded.

  "Excellent." The place was just down the street, and they were all used to walking. Although Eldon was probably at a disadvantage. There was some subtle nuance of traffic flow or appearance or something that had left this strip half empty. Well, no doubt the age of the buildings had something to do with it. With new construction all around, they'd rented this space for half what the neighboring building would have charged. His name garnered instant recognition at the office, and identity card inspected, the keys were produced and the rented space inspected. Rior nodded in satisfaction and handed over a plastic chip. It wasn't a cash card, but it was darn close. "We'll run some sort of business out of here to make money for the short term," he told Jade. "And as cover for our less legitimate income."

  The witches spread out and approved of the empty spaces. "I think we need to collapse all the corridors, and make no new ones for a few months. Lie low while we figure out what to do, long term." Jade frowned at the goat. "Dammit. Where's Teri when you need her? Rior, you've been experimenting with transformation spells. Can you change him back? Soon? He smells."

  Rior looked at Eldon and realized his expertise was insufficient. "I can't change his digestive system back. One! They did a real job on you, and so fast! I'll start studying the spell residues, but better we take our time and not really mess you up." He looked over at the younger witches. Epee and Falchion were obviously pregnant. And they claim they have the little bubbles of the babies storage cradles stuck on themselves. Fifteen. They'd brought fifteen babies with them. "Better leave them closed; we don't have diapers or anything else."

  Betelgeuse glared. "I need to nurse. I'm sore." She opened and closed eight bubbles before she found her own baby. Her incipient panic subsided when she found the right infant. Who wasn't hungry, but was wet and cranky.

  Rior walked out, headed for the nearest store. They needed money, diapers, transportation, an actual house—with a yard for the goat. He noticed all the types of stores along this stretch. Liquor, dry cleaners, nails, Chinese restaurant, hair stylists. Next strip, real estate office, beauty salon with tanning bed and 'french nails', dry cleaners, hamburgers. Across the street, tattoos, permanent make up, nails, dry cleaners and a liquor store. Next strip, Mexican restaurant, insurance, computer repair, laser hair removal and nails. And finally the corner store where he bought diapers and some sandwiches, a jug of milk.

  He returned with a good idea.

  Armed with all those spell potions he'd unravelled, two wizards and four witches ought to be able to change hair color permanently, ditto makeup, tans, hair removal and nails. What did these people do to their nails, anyway? A bit of observational research to learn the local styles and they could open for business.

  ***

  Mirk frowned around at the endless rolling miles of tall grasslands, and contemplated his companions. Frost was meditating, trying to figure out which direction would be best to travel. Halberd appeared to be perhaps thirteen or fourteen. Napalm looked triple her three calendar years and had precociously grasped power the month before. All things considered, the three witches weren't a bad trio to be lost with.

  "There's something that way." Frost pointed. "Mechanical, powered, electrical I think. It's coming this way."

  "If it's a vehicle, maybe we can get a ride." Prince Mirk stretched his back and tried to not look weary. Ten years ago, in a fit of insanity he'd hired an assassin to kill of his nephew and half brother. He'd been running or in prison since. No matter how many weird elixirs and magic wines he drank, he was tired. When the air cushion vehicle whined to a halt in front of them he was delighted.

  The top hissed upward. The vehicle was empty.

  "You are trespassing on the East African Savannah Preserve." Mirk eyed the speaker at the front of the three rows of seats. "You are required to board this vehicle for transportation to the headquarters in Mombasa."

  Halberd climbed into the rear seat. "Might as well get someplace first, then start disobeying."

  Mirk took the front seat. Frost joined him and Napalm slipped into the rear. The clear dome closed over them. "Please fasten
your seat belts. The air cushion vehicle cannot move until all passengers . . . "

  What odd land had he come to? He strapped in. This could be really interesting.

  Epilog for the Good Guys

  Early Fall 1399

  A week later Rael attempted to sneak into his house.

  Xen reached and pulled her down next to him. He broke off the kiss with reluctance. "You know Spikey, you keep showing up like this people are going think that I've either got a girlfriend, or that I work for Urfa."

  "You think Urfa deserves an employee like you?"

  Xen snorted. "So . . . what is it you're distracting me from this time? Or does Urfa want something from me?"

  "Umm . . . "

  "Hate to tell you this, but Q and I aren't the only people you need to distract, around here. But my job is stopping cross-dimensional wars, with a sideline of stopping crime. So things like that cavalcade that slid, very neatly, by the way, into Purple, isn't any of my business. I hope."

  Rael winced. "Actually, we haven't heard back from them, as planned, and we're getting worried."

  Xen eyed her thoughtfully. "You lot are so arrogant, I can see you having trouble fitting in. But it shouldn't have been an immediate disaster unless they did something really stupid like dying their hair purple."

  Rael blinked. "Of course they dyed their hair purple. Is it a crime?"

  Xen squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Imitating a Purple? Damn straight it's illegal. We'd better go rescue them."

  And A Final Scene

  "Do you know . . . with these gates and just a few corridors, our economy is booming." Ambassador Ashe Withione Narsingi Bangladesh looked around. "Ridiculous shape for a restaurant."

  Ambassador Jacob Montgomery nodded. "Yes. But the points of the star do allow for some privacy."

  Ashe looked past three empty tables to where his two guards were in a stare down with Montgomery's. "Until they get busier. It's actually rather nice having limited facilities. Headquarters can't overwhelm me with staff. Assuming they could spare any from all the other activity. I don't seem to be getting the best and brightest."

  "Did that attaché of yours really pinch Ambassador Never's rear?"

  Ashe winced. "I told the rest of the staff that the next one who did something that stupid was going to stay a goat. She's going to be a very interesting addition to the Paris scene."

  Montgomery nodded. "The fellow they're sending us is refreshingly ordinary. Or will send, once the Council gets over their huff and decides to abide by the treaty. Actually, I was shocked. When I told the President there would be no new gates for six months, his reaction was 'Thank God! Maybe that'll cool the economy down a bit. It was getting scary.' I don't think he was kidding."

  Ashe Withione nodded. "We're at full employment, and interest rates are climbing as companies borrow to expand. We may have to take steps to avoid a boom and bust cycle."

  Montgomery grunted. "Wages are skyrocketing. The mining companies—once they realized there were no gate fees beyond the first two million dollars to emplace the permanent gate—are hiring like it's Black Friday."

  Ashe paused to try to remember which holiday that one was. Shrugged. "Yes. The mining companies. Prices for damn near everything is dropping."

  "And . . . suddenly no one's even half as paranoid about the Oners as just two years ago."

  "Sixteen months since we heard Wolfson's insane proposal." Ashe nodded. "Now Earth's a rival, not an enemy."

  They tapped wine glasses and drank.

  Excerpt from an upcoming release

  Rael

  Two Novellas

  Just Following Orders

  Pam Uphoff

  Chapter One

  12 Shawwal 1401

  "I don't know why I keep winding up in your bed."

  Rael could feel the flex of his facial muscles against her temple.

  "It's not funny, dammit."

  "Yes it is. The reason is that you are either here to distract me, divert me, take advantage of my brilliant . . . oof! Violent brute! Vicious, spikey little redhead. To dangle bait. Or to talk me into doing something for Urfa."

  She snorted, and cuddled back into his chest. "I needed to get away, to find the time to think. To dissect the politics behind an order I received, and . . . figure out how best to carry it out."

  "You don't like the orders? Who you working for these days, Spikey? Urfa or Exterior?"

  She sighed. "I came to hide, not explain things to an enemy agent."

  He rubbed the heel of his hand up and down her back. "So you don't like the orders. Think they're politically motivated?"

  "I've been ordered to kill a man, so the police investigation exposes his racketeering, traces his bribes, threats, intimidations, get his blackmail victims to talk and so forth. It's damned bad police work—I don't even have to consult with the cop my sister's dating to know that. Actually he probably has this weird idea that assassination has no place in police work at all."

  Xen snickered.

  "Could be just cleaning up corruption with a message that it won't be tolerated. Or possibly a personal vendetta. But I don't know . . . the political aspects could be very deep."

  He snorted. "Could be? With Oners? If the police investigation doesn't find any of that very impressive list—either because they are paid off, or, wonder of wonders, the man's honest—will they connect a friendly redhead to his death and accuse Orde and Urfa of having him killed?"

  She nodded. "I . . . don't think the blame will fall on them. I had thought of that. But I don't see who would gain, who could order the hit. I just have such a bad taste in my mouth, and I don't know if it's because I don't want to kill the man or . . . if it smells like a trap."

  Xen shrugged. "It could be personal. After all these years, you'd think the War Party should have gotten over your information leak. But, from what I've heard and read, you're too well known as a Presidential Guard for anyone to not assume anything you do is by order of Urfa, and thus the President."

  "One damn it all." She snuggled in. "So how do I figure out whether I ought to kill this guy or not?"

  "You got through my shields. Can you get through his?"

  She snorted. "You weren't surrounded by maids and butlers and a wife and an official princess."

  "And can you invoke the same investigation without killing him? What if he just disappeared?"

  "I'm supposed to make a big nasty mess. Make it newsworthy."

  "The only thing that attracts more public attention than blood, is sex. Or a really good mystery. How about if he disappears after being seen in public with a drop dead gorgeous woman? With spiked red hair. See what happens, both with the police and the politics. If it turns out to be an attack on Orde, then you bring him back."

  "I really can't keep a man captive in the barracks." She snorted. "Tempted though I am to give it a try—with you."

  "It'd never work. You need a bubble. Trans-dimensional, with handles."

  Rael froze. "The Prophets had those. There were only ever thirty-five in existence . . . and some of those have been lost."

  "Easy to make." His chest rumbled in a chuckle. "For someone of my brilliance. So . . . who is this fellow that you are going to kill, or not?"

  "Former Exterior Director Agni."

  Xen's muscles all stiffened. After a moment he started breathing again. "Princess, excuse me, Dancer. Why does the One want him dead?"

  She huffed out a breath. "Is it that obvious who's ordering me around?"

  "I was having trouble seeing Urfa ordering you to kill anyone, let alone someone you didn't completely agree with him about killing. So who else can order you around?"

  "The problem is, I'm not really sure about the validity of the order. Things are a little weird, at the moment. We've got conflicting Philosophers."

  "I thought that was the nature of philosophy?"

  "No. I mean, yes. But this is a conflict in the overarching philosophy of the One itself."

  He made an
irritated sound. "Keep in mind that I was pretending to be a Oner pretending to be a Halfer, when I was there. With damn little to base our guesses on. And I couldn't ask questions in case it was something every ten year old knew. I haven't got a clue what you are talking about."

  "The One itself, the hive mind, has a member who personally, individually, holds a strong philosophical belief. His strength is based on the large majority of people who also feel that way. He anchors the One. He . . . causes the bias of the One's decisions and actions. But right now we're in the middle of a major change in how everyone views the universe. Multiverse. All your fault, by the way. We now have two men who embody two different alternate philosophies, and have so much backing in the populous, in the collective subconscious, that they affect the hive mind. Despite the strongly held beliefs of the official Philosopher."

  "Oh. Great. I thought the whole Hive Mind was creepy enough already. Now it's gone schizo?"

  She growled. Grit her teeth. "No. Well. Yes. I never was convinced it hadn't lost track of reality centuries ago. But now it's got a multiple personality disorder on top of it. And I can't tell who's operating on their own—only possible under these sorts of conditions—and who really does represent the One. This week. I don't know who wants Agni dead."

  "I don't understand why. Since he's retired."

  "Oh, he's just retired from Exterior. It's a tossup whether he'll settle for Minister of War, or run for President."

  "Spikey, you are so screwed." He rubbed his chin on her head.

  She could barely detect him thinking, couldn't snag a single thought through his habitual shields.

  "Wouldn't the One just order his Princess to kill him?"