by Pam Uphoff
They were all nodding thoughtfully. The boys were looking a bit horrified.
"If you flunk, why don't you just go back home? Or . . . were you born here?"
They all nodded. "Most of us were. Rain and Sand and Shadow, they were from the Temple of Love. They got power really early, and they got all sorts of advanced training. Usually we're like eighteen or twenty before we get sent on a proving mission. Ooo! The Chief was so mad!"
"Is this Chief your Arch Wizard?"
"No. He's General Sarcovski. He's in charge of the Academy, and the Magic Corps."
Xen pictured Nil's evilest grin. A normal in charge of a batch of young half trained wizards?
"Hmph. I think you ought to be able to go out, find husbands, maybe jobs to earn money while you're looking. They can test your kids when they're, what, teenagers? No reason to not be normal, you know?"
"I guess you guys don't have the problems the girls have? If you're anything like us Traveler's—if your dad was magic, you are magic."
The oldest boy smirked. "Yeah, the girls are screwed."
"Literally, it sounds like." Xen eyed them. "Well, I suppose if you've been raised to be spies and whores and killers, so what if you end up baby machines? I suppose it sounds like a good way to live. Nothing but sex and babies. You do get money, don't you?"
There were a lot of narrowed eyes and clenched fists among the girls.
"Don't glare at me. I am not the one trying to turn you into a sex slave."
Any reply, physical or verbal, was cut off by the dinner bell.
Dinner was typical of school or the military, cafeteria style, but surprisingly quiet. Xen observed and counted. A whole bunch of the middle-aged staff or whatever were obviously goat boys. Fortyish. The ones who looked older were probably Oners. Or, of course, Mages and Wizards. Lots of the genes floating about.
There were sixty of them, and double that number of regular Veronians who ranged in age from fifty to twenty. About three times as many men as women
The students seemed to overlap the age range of the staff. Late teens and early twenties all the way down to the schoolchildren who were leaving as his group entered.
The class sizes got a bit smaller as they got younger. That big bunch of female Goat Boys have entered menopause. So much for their grand breeding scheme. Of course the next generation was probably doing their part, now, but the women weren't like the Virgins of Love, popping out a baby a year for decades. They'd most likely had five or six babies each, well spaced out, and then with recruiting . . . maybe thirty kids a year all told, and recently more like twenty a year. Roughly four hundred kids, a quarter of them old enough to be dangerous, if properly trained. The oldest groups of students were virtually empty of women. Flunked and turned into broodmares.
In fact, the seating among the staff was interesting. The military in one section, with some overlap of the older civilian men, many with black hair and golden eyes. A small clique of women, well dressed in a severe style that might almost be military. The majority of the women in softer, more feminine dresses and perhaps twenty of them were obviously pregnant. They didn't look happy. In fact, the younger women in the group looked quite unhappy. They need a pep talk. If I can't get to them, perhaps some of the women I just talked to will spread my opinions and spells. My apples of discord.
Were the Veronans aware that the Wine of the Virgins concentrated magic genes? Could they tell which non-magical women were carriers of the wizard X, and which had no power genes? The Oner X was a recessive as well. His inner sight showed that most of the young pregnant ones had no power genes. They were probably higher in the other magic genes than complete outsiders, but couldn't contribute any power genes themselves. How large a group did it take to avoid serious inbreeding problems? If over half the founder population was composed of Dydit Twicecutts' goat children, the number might be quite large.
After dinner they were apparently expected to return to their dorms and stay there. Xen promptly slipped out. He pinned a corridor to the outside wall of the building—closed so it could only be found by someone with dimensional abilities—and headed for the Mansion most of the military staff had entered.
He needed just a weak spell. Subconscious suggestions. "Inbreeding is bad. Probably half the problem. Gotta do something about these girls with no fight in them, no loyalty. They need an infusion of good blood, that's what they need." He ended the spell.
He found the dogs, but couldn't find any corridors on the Academy grounds. So. Time to check out the Army post.
He sent Pig and Barracuda back to the camp, and trotted across town.
The Army Post was outside the city walls, and showed signs of new construction. He headed for the largest of the new buildings, and found his instincts had been correct. There were three corridors with twenty foot spacing at the far end. The building was large enough that a troop of men would be able to come through at full speed and not hit the wall. Or a wagon train could be brought in and not seen by outside observers.
Xen added a light warp and stepped through the first corridor. Scruffy brush forest on one of the Ash ridges somewhere in the New Lands. Dirt road, with the double ruts of frequent wagon use. He took some rough star sightings, felt for the glows of human towns, and felt the Rip. Good enough for his purposes. He stepped back through the corridor to the Army base.
The other two also led to unremarkable locations, both further north than the first. He released all three corridors.
Time to get out of here.
He walked back invisibly to the Travelers' camp, shed the light warp as he entered the firelight.
"Rats! He has returned. We can't steal his horses." Thos grinned. "Although that chestnut is doing his part to improve the horses we raise."
::He asked politely.:: Pyrite sounded a bit defensive.
Xen snickered. "And paid you oats? Are those some of Phantom's daughters?"
"Yes. They seem to live long healthy lives. I probably should have bred them to your buckskin for the size, but, oh, this beauty! I could not resist." Thos proffered a carrot, and Pyrite munched happily. "That dog, however . . . Perhaps next time I will not kick the dog of a wizard." He glared at Pig, who grinned toothily.
"And you, Xen, you are not telling us to pack up and run for the border. Had you no luck?"
"I was lucky to be able to check thoroughly. I'll head home tonight. It might be well if all the Travelers were gone in the morning."
Several snorts.
"We are already packed. At least this time I will not have to fear being chased by a God." Faro grinned. "Or have you upset one again, Xen-son-of-a-god?"
"No gods to be seen, I am delighted to say."
He saddled Pyrite, bubbled the wagon and team, and opened the corridor he'd been dragging along for two days. He rode from corridor to corridor, releasing them as he went. By noon he was in Southern Hell.
He caught Garit in from a morning's patrol and received the very welcome orders to take down the Veronian school. He detoured to Q's office and roughly plotted his star fixes for the other two former corridors. Outside Gold Mountain and Lucky Strike, as best he could tell. He sent notes to Garit and Easterly, and plotted the downfall of the Academy. He'd need a bunch of his own corridors . . .
Chapter Nine
Spring 1398
Empire of Verona
Rior let Ibrah talk, while she observed, both visually and magically.
General Sarcovski and his staff were universally sneering and contemptuous of the bandit chief.
Idiots, all of them. Ibrah believes that he'll be the Duke of Long Lake as a reward for helping the Veronians capture the land from there to the current border. Sarcovski and his people . . . a hundred normals, more or less . . . imagine that they have a trained group of magical fighters. They have children operating with instinctive power, poorly socialized and practically untrained.
Sixty adults with power. Older, with better training than the children. Or just with enough time to have f
igured out some tricks on their own. An interesting mix, though.
They'd been talking for three days.
Rior had used the time for some research of her own. Genetic samples, a bit of back and forth, undetectably, through the corridors between here and the Kingdom. All that equipment just sitting in the post in Karista. Currently without an attendant. The genetic analyzer had clarified a lot of what she was seeing here.
A few witches, all female. Mages, male. A whole lot of wizards, both male and female, and some Oners. No doubt the grandchildren of those Action Teams that were running around loose when we first discovered this world. And they've interbred with the local powers as well.
Those are the brightest spots, those four men, that group of women . . . Some of the Normals glance their way when they speak of putting up corridors.
Fascinating. I should find a child with that ability and raise him myself. A fleeting smirk. Or I could seduce one of them, and have a child of my own. A second child. I have no idea what happened to the first, but I could do it again. I have that wine. She wrinkled her nose. No. Once was quite enough. But I may come back some day and steal some powerful children. A small gang of well trained magicians would be quite fun. Very different from these crude idiots I have to deal with now.
"So we're agreed then. My two centuries of trained fighters will hit the border guards from behind at the same time you hit them from the front. Then we sweep to the Rip, and take Long Lake and fortify it. Hold it." Ibrah nodded decisively.
The general grinned and shook his hand. "Indeed. Duke Auchel."
Chapter Ten
Spring 1398
Section Twenty-five, Gold Rush Territory
Quicksilver felt downright voyeuristic, sneaking around Canyon's edge. She used an illusion to check in and get a room. Most of the women here were whores, and she didn't want to spend half her time disabusing drunks of incorrect assumptions. She was tall enough that she didn't have to fake that, just overlay broader shoulders, _muscular_ chest and masculine face. She dumped her saddle bags in the small room, and took a quick tour of the premises.
Heliotrope had found most of the corridors. Quicksilver checked the far side of them, and released the bubbles that formed them.
She returned to the Inn, and explored every empty room she could find. She was beginning to feel like she was lost in a maze. The eighth corridor, in the locked bank-style vault in the basement, went to a house in Discordia, according to the pile of old newspapers. She released it and was careful to lock the vault when she left.
Outside the Inn, she circled, found a corridor in the stable, leading to the woods north of the Crossroads, released it. And in the thin woods between the inn and the town of Two Trees she found a corridor to another alley in a city where people spoke the Auralian mixture of Anglish, Spanish and Arbic. Released it.
Another to a small barn in Lucky Strike. With more corridors off of it. She hesitated . . . then left them in place. Open but with a difference in the opening at the Lucky Strike end. A way for any witch to close and lock the corridors.
She slogged back to her room. She wrote up the report, to deliver in the morning. She doubted she'd found all of them, most likely Garit would want a patrol here, soon. And set a trap in Lucky Strike.
***
Garit grinned and tried to glow at her. No idea if he was succeeding . . . No idea if I want to. Dammit, I used to have honor. Is it really just spells? Or have I just gotten old and cynical? "Excellent work. And for a reward I regret to say we've been invited to my brother Crown Prince Rolo's birthday bash. Rufi's note was in the form of an order not an invitation. And it said to bring you and Xen along as well, if I could find you."
Q just grinned. "Oops, bad timing on my part. I like dancing, but somehow I manage to scare off most of the men if I dare open my mouth."
Garit bit his lip. "You need to stick to the shallowest levels of science . . . umm, pretend you are, oh, say, Lemon."
"Lemon is pathetic."
"Yes, but if you tried you might reach a level of discourse that didn't terrify your dance partners. And it may not be too dire, they invited a lot of the New Lands politicians and businessmen."
"So not too many young obnoxious self important nobles? Excellent. And no, you were never a stuck up snob." She glanced over her shoulder. "Xen's back. Do you need to talk to him?"
Garit hunched his shoulders, his mood darkening. Damn it. I thought I'd gotten rid of him for at least a couple of months. But an opportunity for a test of Q's loyalty . . .
"No. He'll report to Easterly, let's just go . . . Oh . . . " He swallowed a curse. "Yes. I do need to talk to him."
"And I'd best talk to Deena, as well. She's working with the town guards. She'll need to know where Ricardo's old corridors went, in towns, in case the bandits try to use them." Q walked out of his office tent and headed down the row to where Xen was dismounting.
Garit followed. "Yes, the bandits will get a nasty surprise if they try to use some of their old escape routes. And I'll explore the Lucky Strike group. Set up ambushes, unless I get really lucky and one of them leads to their camp."
Xen looked around. "I closed three corridors, from a Veronian Army base outside Ochase, that led to three spots here. The closest one ended about twelve miles to the northwest."
Garit smiled hungrily. "So anytime they pull something here they'll run for that spot."
Xen grinned back. "And get a horrible surprise. And you as a bonus. Now, shall I stay and help, or head back and do more violence to the Veronian Academy of Magic? I especially need to be sure I take out anyone who could rebuild those corridors."
Garit eyed him narrowly, nodded. "Verona. I don't want them making corridors whenever they want to. Q has also closed nine of Ricardo's corridors that started near the Edge of the World."
"If any of the gang knew any of the organized bandits, they might have shown them a private short cut."
Garit shrugged. "Or made one for a price. Like as not the bandits don't know about that bunch of corridors, but closing them is a sensible precaution. And leaving some open, for the purpose of setting a trap."
Xen nodded. "I'll plot out the exact locations—former locations—of the Veronian corridors so you can prepare a proper welcoming committee."
"Right." Garit couldn't stop a grin. "Their next raid is going to end badly."
And somehow he failed to mention the Crown Prince's Birthday Bash.
***
Q found it almost a relief to get back to being treated like everyone's little sister.
I know it's just a bunch of spells. I know Garit will go back to finding me sexless. And I don't want to get tangled in the succession crisis, so no children . . . dammit. She turned to eye the other witches hovering on the outskirts of the crowd. Yellow was on duty, but Inky? "And how about you? I refuse to believe you can't get dances. What's up?"
Inky smiled crookedly. "Don't you dare laugh. The guy I'd really like to dance with isn't here."
"Oh. No. Not another wedding in the offing. Your family is a disgrace from every side." Q managed to keep a straight face, but her eyes twinkled. "So, what's his name?"
"Vinz. And I don't know anything else, so how do I find him again?"
"Oh dear. Where did you misplace him?"
"The Middle of Nowhere. He works for the Laughlier Mining Company. All I have to do is get up the nerve and go to their offices and start asking about surveyors named Vinz."
Yellow choked and snickered.
Quicksilver considered the young witch, and recalled quite clearly a Vinz Laughlier, who was known for doing a lot of his own surveying and prospecting despite owning the company and being filthy rich. He quite definitely would be here tonight.
"This should be fun." Yellow was grinning, and moved off through the crowd.
It was certainly different. Quicksilver wasn't used to huge rooms full of strangers. Any more. She'd been just as lost the first balls she'd attended after she'd moved to Karista, living wi
th her great grandfather Rufi.
But she spotted Marshall Trehem, the Governor of the Southern Divide Territory and his Duchess, and Jin Genero the Governor of Gold Rush Province, with his wife, who was apparently being graced with the title of Duchess. And, old Gods! Uncle Havi was being introduced as the Governor of Desolation Province and Rip World. Well he was, but . . . His eyes twinkled and he stroked his mustache.
"At least you're better behaved than Cor," she muttered.
He grinned. "Poor Cor. I round him up periodically and drag him home." His brows lowered then. "But he seems to like being the archetype of the Dirty Old Man."
Q spotted Vinz Laughlier to one side, and slipped up behind Inky and goosed her.
Inky turned ready to attack and Q just pointed. Inky went pale and gulped. She actually cast a quick look doorward, as if wanting to flee.
"Oh no you don't. If you don't walk over there right now, you know you'll never have the nerve to do it."
Inky squared her shoulders under her elegant high necked gown and stepped that direction. Vinz raised his head and glanced around the room. Froze.
Q faded back to watch, as Inky walked the rest of the way over.
Watched the big tough mining mogul's face light up, and his stance melt from wary to eager. Sighed.
"What?" Yellow poked her. "Not dancing with Garit?"
"Not until the reception line falls apart. You should go check out the bald guy, he's got a nice glow. Needs training."
"You need to stop analyzing men from across the room and go talk to them. Huh. He is kinda cute. Maybe I can offer to cure his baldness." Yellow eased through the crowd.
Q followed far enough to hear her accost Vinz's security chief.
