by Pam Uphoff
The cry came, not from the front, but behind. "Traitor!"
***
Xiat glanced up as the door opened. The start of a smile froze. "Ifbo. Taking up house breaking, now?" Ewmo and Orc walked in behind him. The door closed.
***
Izzo reached for that leap of speed even as he spun, evading the grip that would have trapped him. Stepped out of the way. Ipge's rush and lunge and natural size gave him huge reach.
Arlw looked down blankly at the steel that pierced his chest. Ipge recoiled in horror. Blood spurted as Arlw folded.
A rush, and troops were suddenly everywhere. The uniformed medgician bent over Arlw, straightened, shook his head.
What the One hell? Someone was standing by, watching . . . Oh.
Urfa shouldered through. Then looked around and summoned someone out of the crowd. "Emmy, you're the Metro Chief of Police. I believe this is all your baby. Tragic accident, nothing left but the paperwork."
Izzo watched in fascination as the glares and menace that had been aimed at him, started softening, eyes started darting around the room.
"Accident?" Efge growled. "Izzo aimed him . . . "
"Sorry, but the view on the monitors was quite clear. Izzo dodged, and didn't touch anyone. I wasn't aware you'd been released from isolation, Efge. Or perhaps we should call you Feeg for the next little while. Until we figure out that sex change spell?"
There was a general inhalation of horror, and there was suddenly a wide gap in the crowd around the directors and the body. Izzo eyed his boss. The aggressively masculine suit was loose enough, the shirt stiff enough, to hide the difference between breasts and muscle. Hard to say how far the spell had gone.
"The spell is temporary, and more illusionary than actual." A sudden shift in Efge's eyes showed that he'd realized he shouldn't have admitted to any feminization in this crowd. "It is a sign of how dangerous those people are."
"Actually, I think it has a lot more to say about their understanding of our culture, and their rather nasty sense of humor." Urfa crooked a finger and summoned two Blackhorse Guards. "Director Efge is going to make a statement to the police, then you will see that he returns to his quarantine."
Izzo made a quick, factual statement of his actions. Nothing of suspicions or deductions, thoughts. The Chief of Police scowled at Urfa, and told Izzo he could leave.
As he stepped toward the door, Urfa materialized at his side and walked out with him.
"So. Switching parties, are you? The Strong Federalists lost a high functionary, lately. Weren’t you a member when you were living on Homestead? Or the Democratic Republicans might interest you."
"I will certainly give those Parties my consideration, Director. Along, of course, with the Modernists." Izzo was past being surprised that Urfa had shown up in person, keeping a very close eye on this meeting.
"Good. Good. Now, in view of Efge's retirement, which he will be announcing soon, the President has decided to mix things up a bit. If Axti becomes the next President, no doubt Ajki will take over my position. Two, or better yet seven, years atop Interior Relations would prepare him nicely for that. This will leave the President a hole at the top of Exterior Relations to fill. Why don't you think about that as well?"
The street was dark, a faint sheen of oil on the damp street.
"I will." Izzo looked both directions, and stepped off the curb. Stepped back quickly. The car brushed his bag as it whipped past. Lights off, license covered, a very strong unnoticeable spell. It turned the next corner and was gone. "I've found a variety of experiences to be useful to a man. Precogs, for instance. I worked with them directly for years. The weird thing was how their predictions could be interpreted to cover three or four things. And they always seem to hit after one thinks one has avoided them. I'm going to be paranoid about crossing streets for the rest of my life."
Urfa's cover closed in, several of them moved out ahead. This time they crossed the street safely. And escorted him the last two blocks.
A trio of police cars were at the entrance to Xiat's tower.
***
They looked aggressive, but their hands were empty. "Well, then. You three are under arrest. Up against the wall, and . . ." Xiat sidestepped and twirled as Ewmo rushed. A step in the dance, a kick to Bo's midbody, a graceful leap that included contact between the ball of her foot and Orc's jaw. She danced to the table and picked up the two steak knives.
Ewmo was looking in consternation at the hunched and gasping Bo. The limp Orc.
"This is your last chance, Ewmo. Hands up . . . "
Ewmo and Bo rushed her simultaneously, and she spun, a steel-edged whirlwind that intersected Bo's reaching hands and stopped suddenly, right hand low, knife up under Ewmo's shirt and deep into his abdomen. She left the knife in that wound, as he staggered back and collapsed. Bo was staring at his hands, the stumps of fingers . . . his eyes rolled up and he folded.
Xiat hit the emergency button on her com. "Police and ambulance." Damn, do we need Ewmo's testimony?
He was still breathing when they whisked him away. A second gurney was brought in and Bo and a bag holding his fingers loaded. Orc, still dazed, but in handcuffs, was taken away, also hospital bound for his broken jaw.
Xiat was frowning at the stained carpet when Izzo rushed in.
He huffed out a breath of relief and straightened, trying to look professional in front of the remaining cops. "Warned you about those pre-cogs, didn't I? Whose blood is that?"
"Ifbo's and Ewmo's. I hope they found all of Bo's fingers. The cleaning service will be challenged enough as it is. I think they will all survive, although Ewmo looked pretty bad." She suddenly noticed the man behind him. "Director Urfa."
He nodded to her, and the metro police behind her. "I'm afraid Minister Arlw died this evening. Shocking accident at his fencing club. Congratulation, Investigator. I believe this should wrap up your case."
"Indeed."
A few minutes later they were alone.
"Mind you, I'm only reasonably certain Efge wasn't the instigator." Xiat looked Izzo over carefully.
He held his hands out and turned around. "See? Practically untouched. Urfa tells me that Efge will be retiring soon. I don't think he's told Efge that yet. Then the President is going to shake things up all around the Directorates. Urfa suggested that I consider Exterior."
"Exterior? What happened to Uncle Ajki?"
"Nothing. But Urfa thinks a few years at Interior is just what he needs to get ready to take Urfa's place if Axti wins the Presidential election."
Xiat rubbed her nose thoughtfully. "And the President has such a reputation for not Playing."
"Just taking advantage of what comes by." Izzo shook his head. "All this starting with a figurehead Patriarch's title."
"Black Point Clan. There’s not another quite like us."
"Thank the One."
Excerpt from and upcoming release
Fractured Loyalties
Pam Uphoff
Chapter One
21 Emre 1408yp
Empire of the One Embassy, Embassy World
Ra'd ibn Nicholas returned the disgusted stare of the senior administrator.
"Intelligence is run by the Ministry." The administrator frowned down at his computer. "Wqlw Withione Nicholas Makkah. Formerly of Action Team Twenty-nine. For seven weeks, ending in disciplinary charges. Formerly of Exploration Team Forty-eight? Only lasted two months, there. Formerly of Action Team Thirteen. Lasted two and a half years. You're improving. But it comes as no surprise that now there aren't any teams that want you. Well, Directorate personnel, here, are Embassy Guards. So report to their office. Wqlw."
Ra'd eyed the idiot. Shrugged. "Certainly. Will you forward those orders to them, since it has apparently been misdirected?"
And I must remember to invent a time machine, and go back to kill the person who thought of this naming scheme. Or maybe just far enough back to tell me to not be so bloody-minded stupid.
"Certainly. Go
away."
Ra'd walked out and headed back down the stairs. He'd memorized the layout of the Embassy before he'd come across, and knew the security offices—and all the other non-Ministerial operations—were stuck off in another building where no one had to notice them. Although the exterior doors so close to the gate were no doubt handy.
It was the first built—and now renamed Building Three—was the smallest building in the complex. The last of the trio of tall buildings was mostly residential—for the ministerial staff.
The Directorate staff all lived in the upper floors of building three. All External Relations in one subdirectorate or another.
The ground floor was mostly facilities and maintenance. Ra'd trotted up one flight of stairs to the Security section.
The Guard Commander looked up as he entered. "You Wqlw?"
"Yes, sir." Ra'd gave the office a quick scan. Family pictures didn't seem to include wife or children, artwork leaned heavily toward architecture. The prism of plastic on the desk was embossed with "Umbe Withione Damasq."
"I'll query Security HQ." The commander shook his head. "You don't even have any security experience. Go . . . take a walk around town and familiarize yourself with the place. Come back in a couple of hours and I'll most likely have this straightened out."
"Yes sir." Ra'd was pretty sure he'd managed to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice.
***
He strode cheerfully out the front gate and crossed the street to the huge plaza. He'd driven in and out twice, never stopping long enough to really look at it. But he'd seen it on screen often enough. News or vids, the big model of the solar system in the pavement and the big fountains in the middle were instantly recognizable.
He turned south, away from the Comet Fall Embassy. No need to give the watching guards too much to gossip about. The small city was built on a half mile grid—roughly 800 meters. The original plans had been for four embassies per block.
Of course both the Empire and Earth had immediately decided that they needed the full block, and the other polities had mostly followed suit.
The first two embassies built—Comet Fall and Arrival—sat side by side on the block north of the plaza. The Empire had taken all of the west side, the Earth occupied all of the east side. The southern block had been taken by Arbolia, another polity on the same world as Arrival. The block diagonally to the northeast held Disco Headquarters.
Ra'd glanced across at the cubic black building. Much lower than the Earth Embassy beside it, it still managed to loom menacingly. It almost looked as if the Earth's tower was leaning away from it. Cringing.
Is Wolfson there? Intel—Directorate Intel—says Nighthawk is frequently here. Would she have Oak here? He restrained an impulse to race across the plaza and find out.
The southwest block was cut by a diagonal road. The Comet Fall Hospital to the south, a hodgepodge of lodgings and shops to the north.
Ra'd turned away from the hospital and strolled past the Arbolian Embassy. Unimaginative stone and glass square. A road led diagonally off the southeast corner. That would be the road to the beach. The white building would be the library. On the east side, and back on the next block, a fort of wooden poles.
The Purple Embassy. Another Exile World, an ally of Earth's. The wooden fort was a cultural and historic form. Not indicative of their current tech level, which was industrial, and had been edging into the electronic age when they'd been discovered by Earth.
He turned north and strolled past the Earth Embassy. The guards on duty watched him, but made no move. Then he was at the corner, and had to decide whether to commit to this or not.
"If you don't, you'll be in trouble."
Ra'd started, scanned . . . the man's unnoticeable spell was strong, and leaning casually on a gate arch, he was close to invisible.
Ra'd stalled, not used to being tongue-tied and dry mouthed.
"Of course she's here. First time I've ever seen her panicking over what to wear." Wolfson pushed off the arch. "I'd almost think she wanted to impress you. Walk around to the back, you can admire the grotto if she's still frantically trying on everything she owns."
Ra'd attempted to suppress a vision of Nighthawk partially undressed and failed entirely.
"I find that hard to believe. I'm not the least bit nervous about my reception." Ra'd strolled past the man as he snorted in amusement. A glance to the side showed nothing.
So, was he there and teleported away, or was that just an illusion . . . with projected speech? No . . . he was there.
Ra'd strolled past the black steps and turned up the street beyond. The Comet Fall embassy on the left was all craved marble, elegant and beautiful. To his right, the Disco building was tickling his flight-or-fight reflexes. Beyond it, an angular building claimed to be a restaurant. The walk between the buildings split, one branch curving away from the black hulk, to swoop down into a deep landscaped ravine. Ferns, flowers, a graceful bridge . . .
Ra'd lowered his shields to incoming mental impressions, felt for Nighthawk . . . and blinked at the strength of the nervous, excited, frantic, frightened, vulnerable swamp of emotions leaking from a woman he'd always thought of as so self confident . . . It really is love. Not just passion.
He followed that trail of leaking emotions up the far side of the grotto to that house right there. The door opened to his touch. He followed the emotions down a corridor.
She was standing in front of a mirror in panties and bra, holding up two dresses. Elegant and slender, smooth curves of muscles under flawless dark honey gold skin.
"The red one. Definitely."
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-seventh anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Black Point Clan is my nineteenth novel, thirty-sixth (!!! How did there get to be so many?) in the main Wine of the Gods universe. Project Dystopia will be the eighth in the spin-off Directorate series should out in March of 2018, with two more planned for this year—Fractured Loyalties and External Relations—as well as two or three short stories.
I also have some unrelated work in progress . . . The first Marshal to the wild frontier of the Asteroid Belt, and an orphaned werewolf raised by very nice (and very tolerant) foster parents who goes off to seek his blood relatives—and might live to regret it.
Email [email protected] to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases, or follow me on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pam.uphoff
Other Titles by Pam Uphoff
Wine of the Gods Series:
Outcasts and Gods
Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)
The Black Goats
Explorers
Spy Wars
One Alone
Comet Fall
A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)
Dark Lady
Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)
Young Warriors
God of Assassins
Heirs of Crown and Spear
The Fiend
Empire of the One
Warriors of the One
Dancer
Earth Gate
Mages at Large
Art Theft
Triplets
Sea Wolves
Bad Karma
Dark Side of the Moon
Cascades
/> Olympian
Embassy
Rael
On the Run
God of the Sun
Cannibal World
No Confidence
Pure Poison
Flying
Last Merge
Nowhere Man
Mall Santa
Saturday Night
The Directorate Series:
Directorate School
A Tale of Three Interns
Trouble in Paradise
First Posting
Surveillance
Fort Dinosaur
Shadow Zone
The Lawyers of Mars
Fancy Free
Time Loop
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Atlantis+
Fantasy:
Demi God
