Mages at Large (Wine of the Gods Book 18)

by Pam Uphoff

  She'd come up with documents from a court in Havwee, signed by the local Duke, about all of them swearing allegiance to the King and the Kingdom.

  The mining part of the development plan was in line with all the discussions they'd had about dredging the Rip River. Magic, as the method of dredging was not mentioned. The other mages were listed as company officers: legal, acquisitions, equipage, planning . . . Two unmarried sons, learning the business from the ground up. No mention of one of them deserting him.

  Their preferred location, crossing the Rip, north of Southern Hell, citing the township and range markers of the army survey.

  There was a discussion of potentially viable businesses and town planning.

  There was an agriculture section. Estimates of how much ridge land they needed to level and seed for hay. Starting with raised beds for gardening. Time frames, costs, all cross referencing the next section on settlement.

  Their contacts with other families who wanted to leave the "tyrannical suspicions" of a society with minimal rationality in its day-to-day governance. Over a hundred families. Over six hundred people who would get a start in his Land Grant. But who, as they became accustomed to the kingdom, would no doubt spread out to other towns and land grants as well, aiding the start of the transformation of the New Lands into a settled and productive part of the Kingdom.

  It was an impressive document. He sent it off.

  And received, two weeks later, an invitation to a Royal Ball "Celebrating the new businessmen of the New Territories." All six mages were invited "and families."

  The women went shopping.

  Beauty spas, dressmakers, tailors . . .

  They hired fancy carriages in Havwee and were delivered in style to the Royal palace.

  King Leeno was unexpectedly impressive. Some sort of mage . . . maybe. He glowed, a subdued, partly shielded strength. His brother, General Rufi was the same. Crown Prince Rolo a pale copy. Crown Spear . . . thank the gods Barbara had researched and briefed them all on the odd two man split of responsibilities. Crown Spear Fossi was strongly shielded.

  And then the really interesting remainder of the family.

  An assassination last year had left a hole in the succession that had not been settled. The crown heir had been killed, the sword heir maimed. Apparently the one armed Prince Staven was now being touted as the crown heir, but was not confirmed. His uncle, Prince Garit, standing at his side, was the strongest contender for the sword heir position. Both with good shields, showing power but giving away little.

  The delay in their confirmation was a legacy of the deceased crown prince. He had married—or perhaps it was a joking pretense of a marriage—a woman without the approval of King and Council. And there were twin sons, just toddlers—to complicate matters. Legitimate heirs or bastards?

  Which made him turn his attention to the bevvy of princesses. Princess Felasi, Staven's half sister if he was remembering the genealogy correctly, was just sixteen. Prince Garit's sister, Princess Eleganza was unmarried at twenty-five. Interesting. Desperate enough to marry an upstart new Land Grant Holder's son?

  Realistically, there was no chance for a crown for Paul. But any daughters he had could easily be considered appropriate wives for the future king. With the right mother. Felasi and Eleganza were probably too closely related for a child to marry the next heir. He'd have to look over the more distantly related princesses, and recommend one of them to Paul.

  He looked back at the unmarried Staven and Garit. For the first time I regret not having daughters. Maybe I should retire Barbara and marry a younger woman.

  And then the background music changed, the crowd shifted off the dance floor. King Leano led Queen Nez out for the first dance. A waltz. No problem, Marcus was a good dancer. He looked around at the pretty people, elegant, bright, quality. He could pick out the country hicks from those who understood class. The clumping of the movers and shakers of government, the businessmen. A fair number of men in uniform around, but even there you could see ease or gaucheness.

  Marcus nodded. "I like this place. It's got style."

  Barbara placed her hand on his arm. The week's worth of babying in some beauty shop and the expensive dressmaker had been worth every royal of the cost. She was magnificent.

  "Come dance with me, wife." Then we'll start meeting all these other governmental people.

  Chapter Eleven

  Fall 1394

  Southern Hell, Southern Divide Territory

  Marcus scowled at their wagon. "Once we find Falco, we'll need two more wagons to transport two whole compasses and families."

  Paul looked beyond him. "Maybe we should hire them."

  It was the twins Dray and Vay or whatever.

  Yeah, right, use people who'd recognize them. Naïve young . . .

  "Hi Drei. Hi Val. Hey, did you guys just get here?" Paul crossed the street. Gloria and Lynn Nelson perked up at the sight of two good looking boys and followed him.

  "We were about to head home, practically empty. It's just the two of us, with two wagons, this run." Val was suddenly looking all bright-eyed and eager. Show a young man a pretty woman and he'll do anything.

  "Gosh, you've got a strong glow. Are you a mage?" Lynn was all starry eyed.

  "Well, mostly, but our mother's a wizard, so we can source that way, too."

  Yes! To hell with Falco. I think this is just what I need.

  "So if you guys need anything hauled . . . "

  Marcus stepped in. "We were thinking maybe those guys that jumped us dumped a lot of the heavy stuff, and we ought to go look and see. We've got a wagon, but we thought we might hire at least one more . . . "

  "Say no more. Here we are. Err, it's been a year and a half . . . "

  "We had furniture, clothes . . . things that mattered to us. Crated up. In this climate . . . well. I want to at least look."

  "Probably seven days out and seven back, food and feed, that'll run . . . " Drei was toting it all up already. Sneaking looks toward the two women.

  "We should hustle, make sure we don't get caught in a storm." Val said.

  Drei nodded. "And if there's nothing there, then we'll refund you half and just continue on home."

  Marcus nodded. The girls looked happy. He sent Paul off with a message for Seabaugh, and loaded his wagon up with food. As soon as Paul was back, they headed out.

  It was an easy trip. Marcus drove himself, pointedly suggesting that Paul not let the twins scoop up both of his marriage prospects. So Paul rode with Val and Gloria in the lead wagon. Lynn sat beside Drei.

  At their first campsite, Drei hesitantly brought up the missing trio.

  "They grow up, they go their own way. That's how it works. Pity we had to get into a fight over it though."

  "I clued in on you not liking Dobs."

  "Well. I should have accepted it." Marcus steamed a bit, again. Done a better job of getting rid of her.

  Paul snorted. "So, umm, why doesn't this Rip Crossing of yours have a corridor?"

  "We did once. Couldn't take the influx of drunken miners treating all the women like they were whores. There were a couple of nasty incidents, and we shut it down." He cleared his throat. "Actually, we just moved the end of the corridor five days north of Gemstone, so we didn't actually have a two month trip each way, but the riff raff think we're out of reach, so everything is back to normal."

  "I guess that's why there's not a corridor to Gemstone."

  "Yep. Well, there are, but not from any of the boom towns. And they have a guard on them. Probably what the Marshall will end up doing. Going to be a pain in the ass, and all to get rid of these damn raiders."

  "Yes. Control of the corridors will be key, won't it? Who makes them? What are they?" Marcus eyed the boys. Chatty, knowledgeable . . .

  "Oh, multi-dimensional bubbles with a twist and two openings." Val shrugged. "No big deal actually. There's only a couple of dozen people who can make them, but for them it's dead easy. I can see the bubbles, but I can't grab th
em or do anything with them. Yet."

  Marcus eyed the boy. "How old are you? You've barely come into your power, by mage standards."

  "Seventeen." He squinted at Marcus. "Oh, I see, you're a mage, too. Your shield is so tight I didn't notice. And you're from Scoone? I thought they burned all their magic users generations ago. Have you met any of the local mages? There aren't actually all that many around out here. You should come to Rip Crossing. We have tons of mages, witches, and goat wizards."

  "Goat wizards?"

  "Yeah, don't they teach about the Wizard Wars in Scoone? About the eight wizards that were turned into goats for a thousand years?"

  "No, not, err. A thousand years?"

  "No, wait it was, like, eight hundred years. I think." Val blushed. "I'm not the best student around. Dad prods me a bit on that." He cleared his throat. "Richie Xi, God of Eternal Youth, you know?"

  Marcus froze for a moment. "Err, yes . . . " A god child. Slow to mature, hugely powerful. He gazed at the young god, then over at the wagons. "Is this the life you want?"

  "Oh yeah. Traveling and meeting people, seeing new places and making money doing it. I love it."

  Rather like Gisele with her herb garden, or Harry with his Tavern. It's pathetic, really. Gods playing at being regular people. Like it's a game. They should rule.

  "Do all of the Gods have children?"

  "Uh, yeah, I guess so. The ones that are still alive. I think both Vice and Virtue are either dead or gone. Pax went through a dimensional gate and hasn't been seen since, and something—maybe Xen—happened to Mercy. No one will talk about just what, though. And Art . . .I'm not sure I believe the stories about Answer killing him single-handedly, let alone rolling him up into a tiny ball until he disappeared altogether."

  "Art is dead?"

  "That what Xen says. You don't rape the daughter of the God of Just Deserts and get away with it. I'm surprised he didn't just fall over dead."

  "Michael Omega has a daughter?"

  Drei laughed uproariously. "A daughter? Six, more like, well, I guess two are step daughters, and Lord Hell's got three sons as well. I haven't kept track of granddaughters. Twenty, maybe."

  Marcus rubbed his temples. "Who is this Lord Hell? A son in law, maybe?"

  "What? Oh, no. It's short for Michael."

  "Michael. Lord Hell. It fits."

  With a bit of prodding over the next few days, he learned that the Gods he most disliked were the powers behind the throne here, although their power wasn't absolute. A son of the God of War had been removed from the line of succession recently. The thought of the Wolf behind such a naked power grab was frightening.

  He might have to reconsider who he released.

  He had no trouble locating the Museum.

  Val and Drei gawped, then looked at him.

  Drei snorted. "That's why the odd accents and all. You were bubbled in there for . . . how long?"

  "A thousand years. Falco could pop the bubbles, and finally got out. Released us. Now that we're settled, and have money, we want to bring out a couple dozen people or so. Then more, as we have the resources to support them while they fit in."

  "Whoa. Now that's sensible planning." Val nodded approvingly and walked into the museum. Gawped at the statues.

  Drei frowned as he poked at one. "I can't quite . . . do anything."

  Since he was poking at a young witch, Marcus was actually glad.

  "Perhaps we could make a minor compass. With Paul and I to help, perhaps you'll have enough power."

  It took three days, but in the end they had ten mages, and eight families freed. Confused and upset.

  Marcus led a few mages away for a quick explanation.

  Before the sun set, while the desert heat supplied all the power they could hold, they formed up a compass.

  As he'd suspected, controlling Drei and Val wasn't easy. Even with the youngsters exhausted after the concentrated work it was a battle to get a chain spell on each of them. And then a memory erase loop. No doubt they'd work out of them eventually, but he'd probably have at least a year before they could tell anyone about all the mages who had come from the past.

  They all slept poorly, and he had trouble keeping Val and Drei on task.

  He'd deal with the kids later. Now he had to keep the twins on the road. They'd go first to that Black Ridge town that Seabaugh was interested in. They could buy houses, or just move in and use some of the abandoned buildings and houses. Then they'd see about influencing the local situation.

  The third night, he put a sleep spell on all the children, and the adults had a good orgy to recharge themselves and get ready for the next challenge. He really ought to have thought about bringing a few more young women along. They were two short, and there had probably been some teenagers old enough . . . well, three of the daughters were almost old enough. Or they'd pick some up women somewhere. At least Gloria was all over Paul in the morning. Lynn was looking a little shocked and withdrawn. She grew up in a mage family. What did she expect?

  They made Lucky Strike just ahead of a nasty ice storm that was turning to snow and raging blizzard, but by then they'd corridored a thousand miles east and two hundred south to a near ghost town. The drunken foursome that now owned everything sold it to him for a hundred royals for each of them and ducked out the corridor to Lucky Strike, no doubt to spend it getting even drunker.

  "Everyone look the houses over, take whatever you want." He waved Ian Daniels, the master of the second compass, up the steps of the largest house. Not that it was actually very large. The twins, he couldn't tell them apart, unloaded the rest of the supplies into the tavern and put the horses and themselves in the stables at the back. He'd have to get more food, and figure out how to take advantage of this little cubbyhole, just a few steps away from civilization.

  Run the legitimate mining business and build a true mansion in the Land Grant.

  Anything dirty could come through here, out of his demesne.

  Chapter Twelve

  Late Fall 1394

  Desolation Territory

  "Val said five days north of Gemstone." Falco clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. First snowstorm of the season, and we really do need to find this Rip Crossing place. "If I don't find the corridor pretty quick, we'd better run for Art's Museum and sit out this storm."

  Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he could see two lumps under the oilcloth nodding. No point in all of us freezing, and I'm the one who is supposed to be able to see this corridor.

  The main problem was that there wasn't a proper road. Just a fairly smooth expanse of hardened black basaltic lava. Twenty miles wide, with occasional deposits of horse manure to show that they hadn't lost the track. The wind whipped up and he ducked his head and closed his eyes for a moment. Poor horses! He could "see" the warm lumps of the animals, their heat streaming away on the wind . . . and something else warm right over there . . .

  He opened his eyes a slit. Fog streaming away, condensing, snowing in an odd localized way, a long strip of snow leading to absolutely nothing.

  He steered closer, stopped the horses and climbed down. Waded through foot deep snow . . . there was some sort of illusion . . . He stepped through into a snow storm. To his right, a three story building, lights everywhere.

  He turned and looked at the arch of rocks behind him. No illusion from this side. He walked through, and grinned at the anxious pair looking for him. "Found it. Bundle up, it's snowing there, too."

  On the other side, two men were out in front of the building, looking at them. Just standing there in shirtsleeves, no jackets at all.

  "Hi, umm, we're sort of looking for Val and Drei . . . but what we really need is a midwife."

  The blonde man snorted. "I'm their big brother, and you've come to the right place for expertise in childbirth. How soon?"

  "Two months, maybe?" Dobs looked up at the big building.

  Falco's teeth chattered. "Aren't you cold? How can you just stand there?"

&nb
sp; The men grinned. "Magic."

  The brown haired man waved him down. "I remember you three and your Dad, poor dumb Scooners, robbed and left out in the middle of nowhere. I'll put up your team. Orion, get them inside."

  The inside was so nice and warm it took a bit for the details to sink in. The high rotunda. The ornate compass rose on the floor. The scent of cooking. A dining area, a restaurant actually, to the left. Hallways leading off in three directions, curving staircases winding around the circular lobby to the higher levels. Lots of people; children running about. It was so big it wasn't crowded. "There must be a small town living here." Falco started peeling off layers of clothes.

  "Pretty much." Orion eyed them. "One witch and two mages? Or . . . are you a wizard?"

  "Falco Newton. Umm, my mother is a wizard, my dad a mage. Umm, this is Max Olsen and his wife Doberman Freshdaut."

  "Ah, double sourced. I'm not used to finding one I don't know already." He circled a carved stone block that must serve as a hotel desk, and frowned up at a board full of keys. "The ground floor gets pretty rowdy but nobody is in the honeymoon suite. And the room across from it, perhaps?"

  "Umm, sure, umm, we brought a bunch of gold with us . . . "

  "Gold always welcome. C'mon, I'll show you the rooms, and double check that no one just moved in without taking the key." Orion glanced back over his shoulder. "So many of us are one type of magician or another that the keys are a bit superfluous. We mostly use them to show which rooms are taken."

  Falco opened his mental shields a bit . . . slammed them shut at the tidal wave of . . . everything. Glow, thoughts, emotions, spells . . . thousands of them . . .

  Orion tossed another grin over his shoulder. "Yeah. And that's just the teenagers who haven't learned control enough to keep the shields up. Well . . . and some idiots showing off. Or arguing. Honestly, I love having everyone here for the winter, but it's so nice when spring comes and they all go away again."

  The honeymoon suite featured a huge bed. A door out to a pool of steaming hot water in a greenhouse.