by Pam Uphoff
"Oh, Joe. Yeah, that's my cousin Joe Hertz."
The guard who had fetched him nodded. "When did you see him last?"
"We had lunch together yesterday at the End of the Wharf. He said he had something to do—I figured one of the whores down there—but when he didn't show back up I started worrying. I asked around a bit this morning, but Joe wasn't a very noticeable fellow. Damn."
"He have any enemies? Girlfriends?"
"Nah, ask Master Halse, Joe was a hard worker, got on with people. No steady girls, well, maybe some regular whores, you know, but nothing to get into a fight over."
"You left him at the tavern?"
"Nah, couple blocks this way, he upped and decided he had business. There was this stupid to-do at the tavern, nobleman's stallion got loose and bred one of my mares, there was a lot of joking about it, but it sure seemed to get a bunch of the fellows in the mood. I figured Joe'd go back and get a quickie and find me at the docks, so I went back home and swapped to my fresh team, and then came back down here. I took short hauls so I'd be easy to find–it really speeds things up, having two of us to unload."
The guard shook his head. "So a whore, or her pimp or a footpad cut his throat and tossed him in the river. Well, we'll see what we can find, but I 'spect we'll never find out who did it."
Damien nodded, feeling sick. We can't even send him home.
He was buried early the next morning in a nearly silent ceremony. The whores from the Sooty Duck came and cried. The guard spoke briefly to them and left.
***
Lefty could hear the voice from the general's room.
"It looks like an ordinary cutthroat. There no indication that any of the royals were involved at all. If they had been, it would be a sword thrust we'd have found."
"Good. Not that we need a murderer at large, but I really hate it when the family, however distantly related, is involved. Bad enough they stole my horse and raced him."
The other man chuckled. "Right, you impress all of the kids with your tall tales, and then you expect them to be able to resist a colt you tell them was sired by the War God's stallion?"
"These lads were about ten years too old to be that silly. Thanks, Jer."
Lefty eyed the unobtrusive man who walked by. Moderately tall, balding, average. On a first name basis with the general. One of the Emperor's Own intelligence officers, no doubt, regardless of the City Guard uniform. Which looked a bit padded, the heels of his boots badly worn on the outside edge. Anyone seeing him in a guard's beret probably wouldn't recognize him two minutes later in street cloths, which he probably wore with shoes worn down a bit on the inside.
"So, Lefty, what are the Earther's up to now?"
"Getting bored. It's been a year since the Oners tried to provoke them with that raid . . . The Auld Wulf bred that mythical black horse to a mare of yours?"
"Jet's pretty big and solid for a myth. And you know the Ash Tradition! Every time he comes here, a mare or two just happens to get together with that horse. This is the oldest colt, just over two. There are a couple of younger ones down at the Royal Stud farm."
"Huh. Well, don't let Master Nil find out or he'll be horribly jealous. In the mean time, it looks like the Earther's science camp is packing up and ready to head home. Hopefully that's a sign that they're going to give up altogether, and just leave."
"Excellent. Now we need to work on the Oners, and try to break up their love fest with Auralia."
"Before they murder any more city guardsmen." Lefty scowled. "I really hope we have an opportunity to do something nasty to that Action Team Oscar and Bran met up with."
Chapter Thirty-three
1364/Fall 1362
Karista, Kingdom of the West, Target World Forty-two
Usse was pissed.
Egto and Idre were keeping a low profile. Wink was spending a lot of time in the storage room, analyzing the news clippings.
Ajha tried to ignore the cause. It was more than a little difficult. The Earthers had seen the other three, been following them.
Been killed by Usse.
"Three of you and you had to yell for help to deal with an Earther spy." Usse glared in Egto and Idre's direction. "And swearing by the One at just the wrong moment. If you didn't swear at all, you wouldn't have made such a mess. If you spot the other Earther, don't kill him. Follow him. There will be more of them, there always are. I should have suspected that pathetic embassy of theirs wasn't all their assets. I've requested an Action Team, to clean them out. You little boys will stay close to home so the Big Bad Earthers can't get you.
Ajha relaxed as Usse stopped glaring and nodded.
"Now, the Ambassador tells me that one of the Action Teams is going to try to bait that God of War into appearing, so they can test him. And kill him, if he's real. The other Action Team is in Discordia." He snorted. "After having some organizational and medical problems. So there will be a delay before one or the other of them arrive. It's been long enough that I am certain you were not tracked back here. So you may start going abroad again. But . . . There will be no more swearing. You three will dye your hair, you will wear country fashions, not city. You will stay out of taverns. Perhaps you will survive. You had better be vigilant, notice immediately if you are spotted and do not let yourselves be traced. In fact, concentrating on your college classes and avoiding the dock areas as much as possible would be a good solution to that claustrophobia you claim to be developing." He switched his glare to Ajha. "Pure luck you weren't there as well. You will do all the marketing, and prowl the area, looking for that mismatched team of horses. One white, one dark grey."
A month later, Ajha was breathing a sigh of relief that it was Edmo's team and not Kael's that had been sent.
Or maybe he shouldn't be relieved. Ajha eyed the Action Team and felt a sinking sensation in his guts. What they lack in personal complications, they probably make up for in viciousness. Edmo's guys were lean, mean, and they had a grudgy feel about their auras, left from their failed attempts on Pax. He'd noticed immediately how they all seemed to start moving at the same time, no matter what they were doing, and sat still together to listen. They were even more synchronized now. They don't disengage as thoroughly as Kael's, even when they're off duty. He reinforced his usual shield, last thing he wanted was to be influenced by that compass. For a second he thought the integrated Team might even overshadow Usse. Then he saw their almost reverent respect for the old man, and realized that the old Withione had deliberately put the Information Team at ease. Now with the Action Team here he'd shed that cloak and Ajha lowered his own shields enough to see Usse's glow, as deep as any Priest of the One. When Usse gestured, the four of them slunk away to let the others discuss . . . whatever they'd been talking about when the Info Team had breezed in from a day at the college.
"I have never been so thoroughly disregarded in my entire life," Egto muttered.
Idre nodded. "I feel like a little kid."
"Compared to them we are little kids. I think I need my diaper changed." Wink sighed. "If we're lucky we may be allowed to be errand boys. They're a lot different in the field. I'd only seen them giving reports and chasing women, down in Fascia."
Ajha just settled down in a chair. "Well, maybe we can find reasons to do research out of town. Search for the God of War, again."
Usse stomped by and eyed them with disfavor. "And what would you do if you did find him? They are here to take care of the problems we're having with Earth spies. You will help them scout. Now, take this and make yourselves useful by buying some food. Got it?"
"Yes, One."
Take care of. As in kill.
I like this place. But I'd better remember that they are the enemy. Auralia will conquer them, and then the whole planet will be subsumed into the Empire. At that point we can start thinking of them as friends.
One damn it all, there ought to be a better way to coexist with other worlds. The sword is not the only answer to every question!
Chapter Thirty
-four
4 October 3479/ Fall 1362
Karista, countryside, Kingdom of the West, Comet Fall
Mike was looking sick, as he grabbed Damien's arm and steered him away from the others. "A new intercept. The local agent has sent for an Action Team. He said the Information Team was worthless when it came to cleaning up after their own mistakes. The diplomats are still out of the country, so we don't have to worry about them being targeted. But what are we going to do about Code? The kid's a loose end that could unravel us."
Damien choked faintly. "I was wondering about selling those damned recognizable pintos. How about instead we buy a cheap farm hundreds of miles away to the south, and get Code to mind them all winter long?"
The tenseness around Mike's eyes eased. "Da, that would do nicely. But do we have the money?"
"Plenty. Rocky land for grazing, not farming, is very cheap. I'll haul the beasts and boy out of here tomorrow." Damien walked over to the stable shivering with more than the autumn chill. Silencing a team's friendly vulnerabilities was something he'd never had to do. "Hey Code. Mike and I talked it over. We figured maybe we ought to put the mares out to pasture for the winter, find some decent grazing land for them. You interested in going too? We'll pay you to grain them regularly."
Code lit up. "Solstice too?"
"Yep. And remember, even though he's a big pet and willing to do anything, he's still a baby. No riding. Not even just to sit on him. Not even in the spring. Why don't we head out tomorrow, there are towns all up and down the road to Havwee where we should be able to find what we need." Damien stepped over to scratch Solstice. Nice looking colt. Great legs. Probably about time he admitted that he wasn't going to terminate his sister's experiment. He grabbed the small rope halter he'd made and slipped it on the colt. Code skipped along as Damien led Solstice out.
For now, he just took a few minutes to walk and trot the big colt, tie him up and brush him, and pick up all of his feet before putting him back in the stall with his anxious mother. "We'll take it slow, so we don't over tire him."
He sold a dozen cut synthetic sapphires to a jeweler, and they left the next morning.
He hitched Sombrero and Macy to the tiger wagon, for the first stretch. Sandwiched the probably-most-noticed Blue in between Blackie and Solstice, tied on behind. It made him nervous to parade through town like this, even with the different wagon. But once through the gate, Damien relaxed and just let them roll along. He'd come out this direction often enough to buy hay and pick up communications, and he'd taken the south road a few times. Enough to have a good idea of the farms and conditions. With the light load and a change of horses they made good time. The colt kept up without any problems, but Damien still took long mid-day breaks, and stopped early every evening. Several nights they stayed in inns and let someone else groom the horses. A couple of hundred miles out of town they started looking at the countryside in earnest, and making enquiries in the small town of Bleaker Knob led them to a 'square', apparently a standard sized plot two miles by two miles of which not a lot was farmable. The northeast quarter was a piece of upthrust granite, the south half was marshy, with a low dam making it worse. Anywhere a scrubby tree could grow, they'd taken root. The previous owner had built a small cabin and a large run-in shed for his cows, before he'd given up and abandoned the land for back taxes. Damien bought it cheap, for a year ahead in taxes. He stayed for a week, fixing fences and getting hay and grain in, not to mention buying two nice ordinary bay horses to pull the wagon back to town. Older mares, no doubt he'd be replacing them within a year or two, but completely unrecognizable.
Code and the pintos looked happy as he drove off.
He pushed the pace a bit, and beat the first really bad storm into Karista.
Mike still looked worried. "An Action Team! Professional killers, if our intel is right."
Damien nodded. "Or that could be hype. But if they ship them in from Fascia . . . How long ago was the request?"
"Twenty days ago. They could be here by now. I've never been in the middle of a cloak and daggers war, and I'm not looking forward to it."
"Well, we've got different horses, and in this weather no one will be surprised if I switch and drive the covered wagon. My hair's longer than usual; I'll stick on a knit cap and we'll be fine."
"Everyone is upset. Max accused me of killing Jeinah's little brother. How did he get so damned attached without me noticing?"
"Relax, lieutenant. I'll talk to him. You worry about the Oners."
Mike grunted unhappily. "We've been silent for six weeks. We need to get out the Bear wagon and send a hell of a lot of info. And hopefully gets some good news back."
Damien corralled Max and showed him enough pictures of the old cabin and the delighted young man that he relaxed.
"Sorry Damien. It's just that I know how nasty bad the spy stuff can get. Once we get some new news and all, it'll be better. Maybe we'll get a pull out date. What more can we learn, here? Lefty and Dydit are the only sign at all of Oner influence in the Government, and I'm beginning to wonder if they are Oners. They don't seem to interact with the Post Head, the Information Team or the Action Team. They've never shown up in an intercept."
Damien nodded. "I agree. They might as well pull us. Although if they wanted to plant some deep moles, we're here already."
Max's eyes widened. "Are they going to? I like this place. Even if you do work me to death."
"Don't look so eager. The lieutenant will ship you home if he thinks you're in love with a local. Come along tomorrow, you can take the day off, so to speak."
"Nah. We all need to keep our eyes open for those Oners."
"Max, the lieutenant noticed that you seem attached to Jeinah. Yeah, sure, if we go deep mole you can marry a local. But a whore? Don't glare. Think about it. She's got a huge history, starting with growing up in Gullytown, and why she started whoring, and that along with everything else is going to make it hard for her to ever be a wife. And she's got a baby, by who knows who, that would turn into your job to raise. And you could get yanked out of here tomorrow, and what would that do to her?"
Max winced. "We've talked. And Jeff's a cute little thing. We, I . . ." He turned and walked away without saying anything more.
Chapter Thirty-five
1362 Fall
Ash, Kingdom of the West
The Auld Wulf looked at all the eager faces and shook his head in disbelief. He'd always started the Ash kids on sword fighting when they were nine or ten. Flexible, light on their feet, fast . . . fun.
This year there were twenty-seven of them. All organized at the new school.
He could send the less agile off to start next year, but there were another fifteen that would expect their sword fighting lessons next year. And the year after that, the dragons, if they were still here. Might as well swallow this lump of students and get it over with.
"Well. All of you are going to be keeping me very busy this year, aren't you?" Some of the kids grinned. Most of the little girls giggled. A couple looked determined. Rustle, the smart little girl who seemed to sneak in everywhere. Tromp, a big strong girl with a temper.
He knew them all. For his sins, and his wine, he was the father of three of them. Most of the witches would lose interest quickly, and stop coming altogether when they hit fifteen and started serious witch type training. Or got tired of wearing trousers to school two days a week. The mage boys would usually stay until they hit eighteen and started being able to collect and affect serious amounts of power. Every once in awhile he had a few who stayed, and got good, and like as not left for the Army.
For now, he handed out the lightweight wooden swords he'd spent the last two weeks whittling. Crude, with rounded ends and no pretense of an edge.
He set them up with a middle guard, and showed them a straight forward thrust. Moving down the line, having them strike at his hands instead of randomly, getting down on his knee so they could stab him in the heart. Cor and Rustle had good point control, and quick
ly got quite fast. Some of the others were definitely not ready for this.
He had a vague memory of growing up very slowly. Gods' children, it appeared, were likely to do the same. Not that all children didn't have a range of size and co-ordination. But his three and Harry's two needed to do some more growing before they did much more of this.
He got a small sword and demonstrated a simple parry. Had them practice the move, practice the move against his thrust, and then paired them up.
"Now. We are learning, not fighting. We are going to do this nice and slow, and practice the move until we get it right. Then we can speed it up, like it would be in a real sword fight. But we will start slow."
He went down the line with each pair, and if they got a bit over-excited, no one got more than bruised. Cor and Brad were too flashy—play sword fighting showing through. Rustle and Tromp were . . . interesting. Brains against animal instinct or something. Both fast and accurate, and both getting a dreamy sort of look and adding some subtleties . . . He locked his mental shields down hard. They didn't regress, but they didn't pick up anything else, either.
He hadn't had a student pick his brain in decades. Centuries, now that he thought about it. Those two were going to be very, very interesting little witches.
He lined them all back up, and taught them some steps. Forward and back, a little dance. Thrust, advance, thrust. Parry, retreat, parry. Then again with them paired off. Split up some pairs that didn't work. Told them what a fine job they'd done and that they should rack their weapons.
"I will see you all tomorrow." He said and sent them off.
Ask dragged, and gave him a mournful look. He touched her head lightly. Witches didn't acknowledge fathers. "You have a lot of growing up to do, Ask." I love you. She dragged out. She'd be ten in a few months, didn't look it, didn't have a ten year old's co-ordination.
