by Pam Uphoff
Heirs of Crown and Spear
Pam Uphoff
Copyright © 2014 Pamela Uphoff
All Rights Reserved
ISBN
978-1-939746-02-3
This is a work of fiction.
All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.
Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Cover credit:
Design: P. A. McWhorter
Table of Contents
Chapter One King's Own HQ, Karista
Chapter Two King's Own HQ, Karista
Chapter Three King's Palace, Karista
Chapter Four Charliesville, Arrival
Chapter Five King's Own HQ, Karista
Chapter Six Ash, Foothills Province
Chapter Seven Cave of the Gods, Ring World
Chapter Eight Wizard's School, Prairie Coast
Chapter Nine King's University, Karista
Chapter Ten Ash, Foothills Province
Chapter Eleven Ash, Foothills Province
Chapter Twelve King's Palace, Karista
Chapter Thirteen Ash, Foothills Province
Chapter Fourteen Desolation Province
Chapter Fifteen Ash, Foothills Province
About the Author
Other Books by Pam Uphoff
Excerpt from an Upcoming Release
Chapter One
Winter 1393
King's Own HQ, Karista, Kingdom of the West
Captain Staven Negue sat down in the wooden desk chair. It creaked as he turned. He leaned his left elbow on the desk, and wondered what to do with his right. Missing from the elbow joint down. Still tender. Still something happening. The Goddess of Health and Fertility had told him it would regrow, but couldn't tell him how well, how far, how normally it would grow.
He pulled his mind back to his new office. "All I need is the proper training and experience to go with it."
His commander, Colonel Wacolm, laughed. "Don't worry, you did very well investigating the assassination, for being tossed into the deep end without warning. Now I'll make you follow one of the experienced detectives around, and learn how to do it properly."
Staven snorted. "How about you? I thought you were Intel?"
"I started out a plain old street patroller in the City Guard. Then detective. Then Janic hauled me off to do a different sort of detecting. It's actually a relief to be back here, in familiar territory."
One of the winners in the shake up after the assassination.
"And no more magic?"
"Heh. In my dreams. At least I can now throw it in Lebonift's lap when it happens." Wacolm glanced to the side. "They've got a quarter of the floor, and will probably expand. So enjoy the mere four floor climb while it lasts." He started to turn away, turned back. "I've assigned Markly to you. He's still officially a page, so try to keep him out of dangerous situations. There's an open niche beside the stairs, I think your guards have already staked it out as their post while you're here."
Staven sighed. "Surely I don't need a guard when I'm here? This is home ground."
"Give them a few months. They're a bit over-protective after losing one of their charges." Wacolm advised. "Work with them, so they trust you to not ditch them. Rebo has them trained to . . ." He sighed.
Staven nodded. "He got away from them so often, they practically had to sneak around and spy on him. Not that it did any good." He shrugged aside the painful memories. "So, boss, what do I do now?"
"You are, officially, on light duty for medical reasons. And since you look like you're going to get tapped for the Crown, you know you're going to be sent off to college."
"Law school. Grandfather insists. With large lashings of economics and history."
"Good. Get your class schedule settled, then I'll assign you to assist one of the detectives. Today?" Wacolm looked around the office. One desk, slightly battered, one bookcase, empty. One file cabinet, empty. "Grab Markly and the two of you find office supplies. Decorate, but keep it minimal."
"Ah. Leave the walls empty for the pinning of notes and clues? I'll just see about a small picture of the girlfriend . . . " He broke off at Wacolm's wince.
"Prince Staven . . . They won't let you marry her."
Staven froze. Took a long deep breath. I should have seen that one coming. He forced his voice to sound casual. "Oh. Yes. I suppose they're plotting out who I ought to marry already."
"They most certainly are. First wife for the next Spear Heir, and then a wife with political connections for the Crown Heir. And they'll expect you to stay married to her, and cater to those political connections for the rest of your life."
"Right." Staven controlled his breathing. "Well. I'd best get decorating."
And thinking.
***
His mood was not improved when he spotted Duke Bret Newry frowning his direction, then turning a cold shoulder. No surprise. Princess Amilie's father had lost a grandson when Rebo had died. And however little he'd ever appeared to love his grandson, all possibility of a closer relationship to the Crown had died with him.
And I haven't heard that he's ever noticed he's got a dozen or so great grandchildren. Staven blinked at a sudden thought. Poked it a bit to see if it was sound . . .
"Duke Bret? A word please." Staven ignored the man's frown. "I was wondering if you had any information about the legality of Rebo and Lady Eden's marriage." He let the man think about that for a moment. "Because we need to be clear on the matter of the crown and spear heirs. Letting these ambiguities slide will just cause more problems in the future."
The Duke's eyes narrowed.
Politician, through and through. Yes, Duke, you could be the great grandfather of both crown and spear heirs.
"I will make sure the Council continues their enquiries, and the matter is not tabled for lack of enthusiasm."
"Thank you, sir." Staven gave him a minimal nod. That'll start that ball rolling. Then perhaps I ought to go and talk to Eden again. Actually play with the babies. Start being their Uncle Stave.
Chapter Two
Winter 1393
King's Own HQ, Karista
Everyone called it Magic Central.
And why they put me in charge . . . Major Carwell "Lefty" Lebonift surveyed his expanded command.
A nook full of offices in between Internal and External Security, right by the stairs up to Intelligence.
Lefty had declared the central space their meeting room, and grabbed the most desirable office for himself, and assigned the others by rank and seniority. Easterly, and Deena had taken the last offices with windows. Xen had figured he'd be frequently away, and had grabbed the office nearest the stairs. As if I don't know it's so he can escape more easily. His four new people . . . Lieutenant Dominic had grabbed the largest of the remaining offices. Private Jeff Lovett, Private Yellow Jasperdaut and Private Fuchsia Irondaut had the inner offices.
Fuchsia was Yellow's superior in witchcraft even though she was her junior in the Army, having enlisted two weeks later. And Deena, who outranked both, militarily, was barely trained—in magic—at all. Maybe I ought not have put Easterly in charge of them. But he knows more about Palace Security than anyone except maybe Deena. And I thought Deena might prefer to not be the automatic target for the other two. Women! I do not understand them. But they're all mine now, so I'd better figure out how to fit them into . . . whatever Magic Central evolves into.
"You know, you three need to work together. Be an actual triad, rather than just three witches." Lefty ignored Fuchsia's raised eyebrow. "Two of you are Half Moons, and Deena will join you in the fall. No do
ubt that'll be changing again in the next few years; Centauri's seven years old to Jaguar's one month, but a triad of Half Moons will be very powerful. And there's no reason to not practice working together." He looked at the cool lack of expression on Fuchsia and Deena's faces and sighed. "And maybe consider some magical fighting training at the Wizards School as well."
Deena looked interested.
Fuchsia sniffed. "I've done that. Once as a Crescent, once as a Half Moon." She looked down her nose. "How did you get put in charge of the magic users in the Army? Not to mention . . . him. He has very little power and even less experience."
Lefty sighed and looked at "him."
"I outrank you all." Captain Easterly smiled. "I will listen to your advice, as I would to any expert. "
"I have a solid seven years experience as a Half Moon. I grasped Power at twelve, and advanced to Half Moon at fifteen." Fuchsia wasn't about to back down.
"I have seventeen years of military experience, most of it in palace security." Easterly gave her his usual pleasant idiot expression. If he was trying to subdue his country accent, it wasn't working. "Saturday night we'll all attend t'Garden Party at Duke Banic's City Residence. Fuchsia and Yellow, both of you need t'establish yourselves in t'high society circles so you can blend in when protecting Royals at such events. It's also a useful venue for picking up information, which you will write up and send t'Intel. In the mean time, Fuchsia and Yellow will continue working with Lieutenant Basco on illusion proofing t'Palace. When that's done, depending on what comes up, I'll try t'free up some practice time for you three witches. And get you all out of here on t'Summer Solstice. Dismissed."
Lefty sighed as the three women left. "Why can't we get someone like Wacolm to run this office and let me be one of the workers instead of the co-ordinator?"
"Heh." Easterly eyed him. "You're pretty good at delegating t'worst."
Lefty looked past Easterly's shoulder as the last member of his command looked in.
"You could delegate something to me." Lieutenant Xen Wolfson or Xenotime Rustleson. Prince Xen.
By any name, a young man he'd watched grow from baby to man. Easily the most powerful young wizard he'd ever seen, and more to the point, the most powerful young wizard the archwizard had ever seen. Lefty crossed his arms and frowned. "Xen?"
The young man sighed. "No doubt Rufi talked to you. Yes, I have registered at King's University. Yes, I have an appointment with their Testing Department, to see what I already know about which subjects. I have an appointment with a counsellor to talk about a degree path, once they have all the test results. I have a course catalogue. You know, you need me to be chasing down those four murderous witches. I could put this off another semester, or perhaps a full year . . . "
Lefty shook his head.
"Right." Xen huffed out an irritated breath. "I'll just take up catching Black Widows as a weekend hobby. If I don't have too much homework."
"Yep." Lefty fished out the memo from security. "However, while you are here, here's a wish list of magical things people have thought up, that they would find useful. I haven't the slightest idea if any of them are even possible. Have fun."
"Dear god." Xen scanned the list. "Cloak of invisibility. Message sender . . . "
"We'll work in when you're on duty around your classes, once you have a schedule."
"Thanks." Xen walked out mumbling to himself. "Remote listening device. Quiet shoes. Night vision . . . "
Xen aced the math tests, did well in chemistry and biology. Passed all the foreign languages requirements. Got stuck in remedial History. At least he managed to qualify for actual college level classes in Civics and Physics.
"I'm going to have to learn to keep my mouth shut about some things." He sat down across the table from his sister. The student union was quiet at the moment, between the usual lunch and dinner hour.
Q took her nose out of the book she was reading. "I know. It's a pity they set so much value on credentials from a place like this. Just, whatever you do, don't get into the philosophy class about the 'Thirteen Archetypical Gods of Antiquity' it can get painful trying to not laugh out loud."
Xen snorted. "Yeah. I had to refrain from writing all over the biology test about how they got the genetics wrong. And I think I flunked the physics test because, you know, sixteen dimensions. At least that's in Dad's old books. I haven't a clue how many the professors now think there are."
Q snickered. "Exactly. I'm having to game the system. I'm writing a doctoral thesis on some specialized electromagnetic effects, without ever mentioning the Multiverse or cross-dimensional travel. Umm, they think there are three dimensions, and some of them argue about time being a dimension as well. They've totally lost Quantum and String theories, and call General Relativity an ancient myth. And Dad's physics books don't agree on how many dimensions there are. It's all theories to them."
"I'm going to have to read fast, and as you say, game the system." He paused to search his memory. "Umm . . . How long have you been here?"
"Two and a half years? Doesn't seem that long."
Xen blinked. Less than three years? She's what, eighteen? "Doctorate? How'd you manage that so fast?"
"Aced every test they had, so I started as senior. I just had to take a few things they didn't test for, hence the philosophy class. It's actually handy, the way they have to test every incoming student, because of the rather, umm, uneven education some people get." She gave him a severe look. "Of course I studied their text books before I took the tests."
"Yeah. I really ought to have paid more attention to what were acceptable answers." Xen shrugged. "But I'm going to have to work hard to dodge being crammed into Law School."
Q grinned. "Oh, surely Political Science . . . no? Well, you said you regretted not learning more genetic engineering from Lady Gisele. You ought to do the biosciences here, then get a Doctorate in Genetic Engineering from the University of Ash. I'm trying to talk them into forming that officially. Departments of Biological Sciences, Magical Sciences—don't laugh, you know the world's experts live there—Schools of Medicine, Mathematics, and Dimensional Physics. Just because we lack an organized campus is no reason to not get credit for what we learn and create ourselves."
Xen nodded. "I shall amuse myself with daydreams of Rufi's reaction to my producing a PhD thesis in Magical Warfare."
"Or healing, or genetic engineering. You'd have to reach to beat your purple bunny spell for a research project, though."
"I could always use that one for demonstration purposes." Xen tried to suppress a smile. "Tomorrow I have a meeting with a counsellor. If he refuses to play to my strengths in biology, I shall have to try that on him."
"Do you realize that the Great Grand has immortalized your unique battle with those bandits in a tall tale?"
"Yes. I only hope no one outside of a few friends ever realizes I'm the Boy with the Talking Horse."
She grinned. "Fortunately no one on campus has read Rufi's tales. Although rumor has it that they may get printed."
"Just kill me."
Chapter Three
Winter 1393
King's Palace, Karista
"It's a boy!"
The unofficial announcement was tossed out as Queen Nez trotted through, grinning from ear-to-ear.
Staven heaved a sigh of relief. His sisters, well, half sisters, whooped and crowded the doorway.
It's going to complicate things. Which, from my point of view, is all to the good. In fact, there's rather a lot of children and babies that could save me from a fate even worse than being sidelined as a useless cripple. Make one of them the crown heir, and I can marry Mihaela, instead of whatever highly placed lady the politicians might choose.
I'd better talk to Garit about this. Maybe he likes being the spear heir. He could be this baby's spear.
Let's see. Rebo has eight bastards, that I know of, not counting Eden's twins who may be legitimate.
If Rebo had married Eden with official approval, they'd be
the heirs, no argument.
Then there's Mirk's two boys. Not their fault their father's a murderous traitor.
Staven shook his head. His studious intelligent uncle. A hard working and respected bureaucrat. Even now it was impossible to think of him as either murderous or a traitor. Of course, right now he's a big bronze statue in a back room, scaring the hell out of everyone who walks by.
His son Kel is barely a year old, and why the hell did Marie name the baby Mirk? He's just six days old. Either of them could be spear to my new brother's crown.
"Come in and see your little brother." His father's voice jolted Staven out of his thoughts. The crown prince was smiling, his shoulders relaxed now that the baby was safely born.
The girls bolted passed him.
Staven gave his father a friendly thump on the shoulder. "Guess I'd better go make friends early, in case he winds up being my boss."
"Hmm, well, I'm almost sorry it's a boy. You and Garit are a good pair."
"Oh, there are plenty of complications we'll all have to work through." Staven glanced to the side. Mirk's Apartment. "Is Princess Marie planning on staying here?"
"Off and on. She . . . did you know she was pregnant? She had a boy last week."
"Yes, I heard. It was awfully soon after the other, wasn't it?"
Crown Prince Rolo snorted. "Indeed. They're eleven months apart. And she's already out and about, visiting friends. Leaving both babies behind. And the girls. Seven and three years old. The king has hired two nannies, one for the girls and one for the boys. And a wet nurse." Rolo sighed. "Such a pretty woman, with such a vicious mouth. We used to hope they'd divorce. Now we'll have to put up with her until she's done mourning, so to speak, her husband's disgrace. And we're still hoping she'll divorce Mirk, marry someone else and move out, but that will probably take a year at least."
