Black Point Clan (Wine of the Gods Book 36)

by Pam Uphoff

  The last year and a half since then, he'd been assigned to teams tracking down the still missing students. Mostly women held as sex slaves at remote farms.

  He'd been based on an Empty World for the last few months. An almost-colony for the Oners who'd merged with Helios, and mostly recovered. Many had been rejected by their families, friends, neighbors, potential employers . . . Ajha'd been running the rescue missions out of there, returning with rescued Oners to that Empty World, delivering his rescued personnel to the hospital and finding them living quarters. Now many of the rescued were spreading out into farms and small businesses when the welcome mat was not laid out back home.

  Over the last few months, Ajha had been spot checking, but pretty much run out of anyone to rescue. He'd been turning the unofficially named Limbo Colony over to self-rule when he was recalled and sent home for the Patriarchal Convention.

  "Poor sod. I wonder what he'll do now?"

  Endi Dewulfe's popularity and heroics, once he had been publicly outed as a Comet Fall Spy, had shattered the concurrence of the collective subconscious. The belief in the utter supremacy of the One was shaken. The myriad possible resolutions of the confusion had coalesced fairly quickly around three people whose own personal philosophy matched big chunks of the collective confusion. The old arrogance was still in control. But caution, and the possibility of avoiding strong opponents had appeared. Isolationism had a sudden leap in the number of adherents and found a champion to carry their standard.

  And now the huge swath of people who wanted peaceful relations with the multiverse in general, and Comet Fall in particular, had found a man who shared those beliefs and who was strong enough to gather the spectrum of peaceful possibilities together and wield their beliefs as a single weapon in the battle for the overarching reactions of the One to the rest of the Multiverse.

  Until yesterday, Xiat hadn't been interested in the matter. It had nothing to do with Presidential security, nor criminal matters in the European Region, once she'd transferred. An agnostic, the philosophy of the One wasn't anything she found interesting, so she hadn't read any of the philosophers' histories.

  I may have to check Usse's.

  Some subdued looking maids started laying out the breakfast buffet. Xiat filled a plate and returned to watch the Newsies presentation of every recorded word Ajha'd said since his arrival. She'd heard half of them, and more that hadn't been recorded. They all oozed egalitarianism on one hand, and peace, friendship and trade with Comet Fall, on the other.

  "Well, I can't say I expected the third Alternate Philosopher to be just like the others, but this is a major divergence."

  One of the guards passing through suppressed a grin.

  "Hang on a second, what happens next? Do they have a convention all their own? When? I keep hearing about how the third one will trigger a Great Debate. Seems like I hear debates all the time."

  He cocked his head at her. "You're a Princess. You probably caught more of what happened yesterday than most people. The balance of the desires of the collective subconscious shifted, as the Third Alternate Philosopher attracted some energy. That's what they call a Debate. As people hear him, think about his ideas, he will either gain more, or lose so many he is no longer a nexus. With the energy being unevenly shared out four ways, especially with this one so different, the possibility of the Philosopher of the One losing the absolute majority grows. That triggers a Great Debate. Or, more likely, a series of them over the years, until a new—or old—absolute majority is reached. Then the One adopts that Philosophy."

  "Right. Voting by aural energy through subconscious interconnections." She returned her attention to the vid, just in time to catch the equine hanky-panky, suitably censored for young audiences. "Jioh is going to kill me."

  Ajha, dressed a bit more formally than usual, padded in from the south hallway. He shook his head at the vid. "That was my first cold blooded political maneuver. I know the effect the joy juice has. Dosing geldings is a running joke—and prank—on Comet Fall. Please extend my apologies to her, and tell her that if it had been the full von neumanns potion, she'd be wasting her veterinarian's time gelding him again for a full year. In three weeks time, more or less, his regrown testicles will descend. He may have colic symptoms. Painkillers and muscle relaxants will help."

  The guard shifted uncertainly. "It actually regrows parts? I mean testicles? I mean, I like the jump in power, but . . ."

  "Yep. Amputated limbs, damaged nervous systems. And it's a killer fertility treatment, apart from the umm, ungelding effect. And an aphrodisiac. We need to study things like that, not run screaming because every other time someone gets their hands on it, it causes a spontaneous orgy."

  "Err . . . "

  "It should be in the hands of physicians . . . Am I going to start lecturing every time I open my mouth?"

  "Most likely, sir."

  Ajha sighed and head for the dining room.

  Xiat followed him, grabbed a cup of coffee. "So you're going to be the Philosopher arguing for peace? With the other three variously fired up or cautious about the coming war with Comet Fall?"

  "Yeah." He chewed thoughtfully. "I wonder how much I can get declassified? And I'm going to need some statistics . . . "

  The house comm interrupted. "An unauthorized person is approaching. Fean Withione Tunisia."

  "Admit her and add her to the list of approved guests." Ajha looked around; the guard nodded and headed for the door.

  The woman who followed him in was a spectacular beauty of the Multitude type, black haired and olive skinned, full lipped and exotically slanted big brown eyes. She was shedding a rain spangled coat.

  "Fiend, this is Investigator Xiat of the Internal Relations Directorate. She's investigating the murder. I think she still thinks I did it. I'll brief you shortly, give her all assistance."

  Xiat frowned at the woman. Despite the classical type, the House had identified her as Withione. The girl lifted a supercilious eyebrow.

  Ajha looked from one to the other. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Yet another Princess faceoff. Why can't high Withione women get along with each other?"

  "Princess!" They managed a fair duet, and looked each other over again.

  Fean sniffed. "I dropped out, the second year and transferred to the Directorate School." She turned back to Ajha. "I stopped and looked at four properties in Freeport. I have contracts for all, but I thought I'd see how your house here felt before choosing one."

  "Look around, beware sleeping bodies, especially the ones down that ramp and to the right. I like this house, one sort of like it would be good."

  "I got a good feel for the area and setting walking up. I think I can eliminate all four of these and start over. More trees, lower profiles, more isolated. Finding an office is going to be interesting, the property managers are trying to figure out how much traffic of what sort you'll be bringing through their doors. I'll be seeing them tomorrow." She looked around the house. "You're going to go stir crazy, sitting around not interrupting this convention. And Ebsa says everything is done on Limbo. Ra'd got so bored he painted the warehouse, much to the ire of the Maintenance Chief. He is now posted there, having to paint things in the approved colors."

  Fean tapped at her comp and displayed a picture.

  Ajha looked at the picture . . . a cartoon crawler. On its back. "Roll over! Good Boy!" written above in weird blocky letters.

  "On the outside wall of the warehouse? Well . . . I can see why some people might object. I . . . will make a note to never let him get seriously bored. Is Ebsa still on Limbo?"

  "Till next week. Then he says it looks like a desk job until you do something more exciting than merely disrupting the entire Empire."

  "A desk job. What blithering idiot would put Ebsa behind a desk? Don't tell me, Ebko booted that disgraceful Closey Upcomer Bastard out of A and E, right?"

  Fean gave him a firm look and tapped her comp. "Yes. Now. Have you started writing yet? This isn't the sort of thing you
write a report on after it's all done, Boss. What I'd recommend . . . "

  Xiat slipped away. A damned baby princess, eh? She shook herself mentally. This is not a contest. I need to get to work. We've never talked to all of Udzi's relatives, in-laws and former in-laws. We can't forget the possibility of personal motives.

  Ajha set up his modular comp on his mother's makeup table and tapped away diligently until Mushy stuck his head in to say his father's speech was coming up.

  The Ax looked fresh and relaxed, happier than Ajha could ever remember seeing him on screen.

  "I'll be brief. Concentrations of Power allow one to complete great tasks. Great concentrations of Power warp the balance, and allow excess and extremes full rein. A huge concentration of Power has just blitzed my family. My son cannot refuse the role that has fallen on him. To moderate the impact, I believe I need to soften my own personal hoard of power. As a first step, I withdraw from this contest. Both Ozji and Arlw are honorable, intelligent men. Listen to them now, and choose between them. Thank you."

  "Oh. Clever." Ajha glanced at Ajki. "Had he planned this all along?"

  "Oh no. You've tossed our plans to the four winds, One only knows where they will land." Ajki flashed a grin. "But he was purely hating the thought of kneeling before Arlw and swearing his loyalty to Clan."

  Ajha snorted and listened to Arlw talk about the Pride of the One, the Duty of the Clan to uphold it, and to defend it from further attack. To retaliate and attack Comet Fall. Before he was done, Ajha was back at his computer, writing a timeline of Comet Fall's experiences with the Multiverse. The early years when they had no gates of their own, when the Earth and the One had considered them a tasty morsel to trample while they fought over which one would get to eat it. He'd send someone to Embassy, to check it over for accuracy, before he posted it.

  A history of genetic engineering wouldn't be a bad idea either. He might be able to show how closely related the Prophets were, to the Comet Fall Gods. Show how they were One people, become many, spread over a Multiverse too large to be squabbled over.

  In the Great Room, he heard Arlw finish his speech, and the Clan Council call up Ozji. He walked out and stood beside Bo to listen.

  Ozji sideswiped the history of the Clan for a few useful details, spoke of the flow of obligations, from people to government, and government to people. He spoke of how the Federal Government took more than it gave, to support an Army, defensive and offensive, research, development, exploration . . . then he spoke of the Clan, that gave more than it took, to help individuals, to keep the home enclave prosperous and productive, encourage childbearing and education. He spoke of Arlw's suitability for the Federal government, and his own fit for the homeland role. "No one can do both jobs. Attempting to will just harm both. And I'm here, where a Patriarch belongs."

  "And not a word about the redefinition, bioattack or retaliation for same." Ajha sighed.

  Bo frowned at him. "Are you really going to espouse a pacifist position?"

  "Well, I don't think we should roll over and let anyone kick us. But we've been the bully in the sandbox for long enough. We've stepped out of the playground, and found out that bullying may not be the best method of dealing with the adult world. Oh Damn. I hate my mouth." He threw his hands up and walked back to his comp.

  Bo followed him. "What?"

  "Every time I open my damned mouth, some One bedamned speech comes out of it. All full of metaphors and political . . . residue."

  "Residue?" Bo laughed and walked out.

  Ajha pulled the voter page and identified himself. Voted for Ozji. To Hell with Father and his political ambitions. He looked out at the gloomy dark ocean through towering redwoods, their branches trimmed to give a breathtaking view from here. It looked like it was going to get serious about raining.

  ***

  "Now that was a proper breakup, not one of these modern polite, arranged divorces!"

  Xiat smiled politely at the old Neartuone. Udzi's maternal aunt, aged one-hundred-and-fifty-four-and-not-ashamed-to-show-it, Duiz, Doozy to her friends, was well named. As a source of family dirt, she was a gold mine. All Xiat had to do was balance a tea cup and look wide-eyed occasionally. But even a stoic cop was sometimes knocked out of her tough shell.

  "Sixteen pregnant dachshunds? She walked out and left him with sixteen . . . "

  "Give or take a couple that might have already whelped. All the servants quit. My! How that house smelled! But Udzi got the better of her. It was such a good story he had no problem selling the pups at all, and that's how he financed his run for Regional Representative."

  "I see." She controlled her breathing carefully. Serious cops do not roll around on the floor laughing. She tried to concentrate on the periodic tick of raindrops on the roof above her head.

  "She came by briefly, just to say hello, she said. I think she came back to the enclave hunting for a new husband, or even a remarriage to Zi. Well! No chance of that! Once was quite enough. Let's see. After Zi divorced her, he married into the Brightwater Subclan. Was that ever a mistake! Woman was completely barren, and no good saying it was Udzi's fault, for she had no children, ever, through a dozen marriages."

  And the problem with it all was that Udzi's election would have reflected, however distantly, on all those connections. What she needed to do was to look for motives in the political hotbed of Paris. And look for connections to the Black Point Clan. And find out what they'd been doing, since their arrival.

  They finally came to an end of all the wives.

  "Did Udzi ever talk about his work in Paris, or his socializing? Did he keep a big house there?"

  "Oh, Sweetie! Everyone who is anyone has a big swank apartment in Paris!" She dropped her volume, confidingly. "And 'Social Secretaries' to do the entertaining, but most of those are really mistresses."

  One! I didn't realize anyone still euphemized assigned Princesses! Xiat widened her eyes, like a naive little girl. "But, their wives . . . "

  "Wives come and go. A good Social Secretary is never, ever dismissed."

  Ha! As if the man were the one in control of that!

  "I see." Xiat shivered, thinking back all those years, to her Princess training. Most of her classmates were assigned Princesses. They often occupied their time acting as social secretaries. And if the One decided the man they were assigned to was dangerous, the social secretary took care of the accident.

  "They are the highest of the Withiones, you see, and can never have children. Very handy."

  "Quite." She agreed, weakly. "So, who was the Udzi's social secretary?"

  "Meoc." The old woman sighed. "Such an exquisite woman. Died in a auto crash two years ago. Udzi was so distressed. He was assigned another, but when he retired, she was recalled. He just shut down the Paris apartment and came home. He said it was time to leave the bigger playing field. I think he was looking around for a nice cozy sort of wife, lower class but less fuss, you know? Old men get like that, silly things."

  "I see. So . . . who was he dating?"

  "Negotiating for, dear. Old men don't date."

  "Oh, surely they can be a little frivolous."

  "Frivolous. Humph. That pretty much describes the girls. Honestly! Goim's youngest wasn't but twenty-two! And . . . "

  Xiat escaped eventually with a list of five women.

  One lived just down the street.

  Gaem Clostuone rolled her eyes at the mention of Udzi. "Call me Game, please. One, these hideous names, why don't they let us at least register a nickname and use that? Udzi was a dirty old man. It's bad enough when they leer at the maids. When they start in on the daughters, look out! I couldn't see why mother kept inviting him in for tea. But when she started insisting that we join them, it became clear. 'So good for you to practice your manners, dear.' Ha! Turns out the old creep wanted to marry me. Makes my skin crawl! Yuck. I mean, my big sister would have jumped at the chance. She's a Neartuone. I figured she'd be the one getting the offer. That Ewmo of hers may have good numbers, bu
t he's just starting out. I'm a Clostuone, a disgrace to the family. That means I can marry for love, and I damn well will. And I told him so, when I turned him down."

  "Wow. Well, I'll bet your boyfriend's relieved."

  "Oh, I haven't got one yet! I'm taking classes on the grid, and I'm going to get a job, save some money and unlike all my Withione neighbors, I'll have kids. And they'll all have the same father. Thank you very much."

  Xiat blinked. "And they say the younger generation is lacking in common sense and morals."

  "Just three-quarters of us. And with those genes gone, even some of them are wising up."

  Xiat checked in with the investigator, then met him for a quick lunch.

  "Huh. All these politics, funny if we end up with an enraged boyfriend offing the old guy for trying to outbid him with his girl. Did you catch the speeches this morning?"

  "No. Anything surprising?"

  "The Ax dropped out. Called both his opponents worthy and walked."

  Xiat nodded slowly. "So either Arlw is nagged to death by Clan duties, or he has a recent loss on his election registry. Either way, the Ax wins. I suppose he used Ajha as an excuse?"

  "Yep. Said he had to avoid a dangerous concentration of power."

  Xiat contemplated that, and took another bite.

  "I take it you don't think Ajha did it?"

  "I went riding, at night with Jioh. Retracing the path she'd taken the night of the ninth, around ten-thirty to eleven-thirty."

  "I saw the news feed. Stop to chat?"

  "Yeah. From the path, she saw someone asleep on the patio, and the slope was undisturbed. Above and beyond that, Ajha now has immunity, and still says he didn't do it."

  "That could be to stay in image."

  She shook her head. "Philosophers don't have false fronts. Ajha's run smack into the One, and his deepest and most heartfelt convictions are surfacing. I'm not sure he's capable of lying, right now."