A Taste of Wine (Wine of the Gods Book 7)

by Pam Uphoff

  It was not as if there was any rush. Thirty years, and he's used the seal twice.

  While laying about, he used his new abilities to mold metal into a good facsimile, because he's certainly was not going to explain how he'd lost the seal to the Recovery Team. A few days on muscle relaxants and two little blobs arrived at their proper location. And his emotions were all over the map. It was very odd. He wasn't even sure it was an improvement.

  Chapter Six

  Spring 1371, local

  ". . . and by the powers invested in me by the City of Karista, I now declare you man and wife."

  Vani threw her reserve to the wind and her arms around Code to receive a vigorous kiss.

  Andrai, who had escorted Vani to the altar wiped away a tear. Damien, backing up Code, seemed to have gotten a speck of dust in his eye . . .

  As the family and neighbors closed in to congratulate the newly weds, Damien and Andrai stepped back.

  "Hard to believe we've been here long enough for this."

  Andrai snorted. "Vani's twenty-one, and Code twenty-two. You've been here for over ten years. I've been here almost six years. It's been a lot different than I'd imagined. Somehow I never pictured myself as the member of an extended family, with neighbors and friends. And I certainly never pictured the horses, nor the orphans."

  "The kids are doing well, their mother taught them to read and write."

  "And you're teaching them the rest. And I suppose you're going to build a house for Vani and Code? Don't think I haven't seen the plans, nephew!"

  "Well, that way I can use Code's apartment for the tack, and turn the tack room into another stall."

  "That's a rather expensive stall. Why can't they both live in Vani's apartment?"

  "Because they'll be cooking. And I'd just as soon not burn down the barn."

  "You are an incredible softie. I refuse to believe your excuse."

  "And in a year or two there will be babies. We might as well plan ahead."

  "At least you aren't still seeing that princess."

  Damien nodded. He hadn't mentioned the two luncheons he'd attended. Nor the second riding trip. Because it was just a game. He and Nicole both agreed that it was just a game.

  Code and Vani took the box wagon for their honeymoon, driving two and leading one of the very fat young mares down to the farm. Damien, Max, Brak and Recca kept up deliveries by teaming up Solstice and Midnight, and running the trap with Figgy and Buckette. Damien kept a close eye on the two stallions, but they seemed to get on well enough when they were away from the mares.

  When Code and Vani returned with the four older mares, they ran four wagons and pulled in money handily until the water level in the river dropped too low for the barges.

  Then it was construction season, the frame of the new house going up quickly. The newly weds settled in happily, planning to finish the interior over the winter.

  The Royal Ball was late in the fall. Damien stared at the invitation in dismay. Andrai glared, but said nothing. Too many outsiders around.

  "My, my. Looking to move up in the world?" Bert, the neighbor across the street looked impressed by the fancy gold edged paper.

  "I should have used the brains God gave chickens and turned down the first invitation she ever sent me." He stumped into the house and got out the 'good' stationary and sent his regrets.

  Damien, Code and Vani were harnessing horses in the early dawn when the cab stopped at the front porch. The princess was still dressed for the Ball.

  "It's getting worse. I swear the only people who look at me, and see me are you and that incredibly old Jek Succuro." Her eyes were a bit red. "I just needed to talk to someone with some common sense."

  Across the street, Bert was standing with his mouth hanging open. Damien decided to not look and see what expressions were on Code and Vani's faces.

  A snort from behind him. Aunt Andrai. "You came to a man for common sense? Good Heavens. Come inside. Have you had breakfast?"

  Damien heard a light step and invited Vani in with a nod, and shrugged at Code before following.

  Damien glanced at Bert's alarmed face, and alarms of his own started going off. There was no wind, so he left the door ajar, and quickly opened the drapes. Most of the ground floor would be visible from the porch.

  Nicole looked tired and her finery limp and defeated. Juice and coffee appeared immediately. Toast, bacon and eggs would be added as they came ready. Andrai expressed her emotional support through caloric uptake.

  "I always did think this temporary marriage business of your kings was awfully cold blooded. But then I don't approve of arranged marriages. I was quite capable of arranging my own marriage, thankyouverymuch!"

  Nicole looked around the warm little house. "You are so lucky to have people who care about you. Whom you care about."

  Vani nodded. "This is where I landed when I ran away from home, too."

  Nicole blushed. "I'm not really running away from home. It's not allowed."

  Andrai sniffed. "Do they actually require you to marry? I mean, can't they just leave you alone? You look like a smart woman, but I suppose they wouldn't let a princess run her own business, would they?"

  Nicole looked at her in astonishment. "Not marry!" She blinked and thought about it.

  "You ought to at least take a few years and chose wisely." Andrai blushed, a first in Damien's experience. "Or at least fall madly in love. And not to this scapegrace nephew of mine, who knows too many women the wrong way."

  Damien opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. He didn't want Andrai to go into details about the whores at the Sooty Duck. The grit of hooves on stone pulled his attention to the street. Two uniformed men. Bert gestured, and retreated. Damien's stomach clinched as the guards took over the watch. The question is not have we been exposed, but how long ago did it happen. Bert moved in across the street . . . five years ago. So the King's Own know the Earth spies are moving in on their princess and spear heir? Oh. Shit.

  He dropped his eyes and held his peace while Andrai rattled on about the joys of not having a husband.

  "I was madly in love with Mig, don't mistake me. But he took up time. He felt he had rights, he . . . tried to be a partner, an equal. Really. I'm ashamed to feel so free sometimes. I have my own bank account. I could walk out at any time. Go anywhere I wanted, do anything I wanted. I belong to me."

  She sounded fierce.

  Nicole was listening open mouthed. "I think it's expectations, that are driving this appalling circus. Nobody is forcing me to pick one of those egotistical social climbers. It's just . . . expectations. Custom."

  Damien nodded. "This arrangement you had with the prince, no one expects you to be angry like an ordinary divorced woman, or grieving like a widow. There's no convenient custom for you hide behind, to make them give you space and time."

  "Hmph! Make them back off!" Andrai snorted. "Or at least that's my advice. I've heard they give you quite a dowry. I don't suppose they'd give you the money, straight out, rather than handing it to a husband?"

  "I . . . never asked." Nicole winced, spotting the guards. "I shouldn't have come, but I'm so very glad I did." She rose with her usual grace, but then hugged Andrai awkwardly. "Thank you."

  "Humph. One last piece of advice. Those expectations? It's the ones inside your head that really enslave you. Don't just say what is expected of you, what you would expect of a person in your place to say, or do. And then sit around steamed for the next three days. Think. Figure out what you really do want."

  Damien rose too. "May I give you a ride home? Think of the impression you'll make, pulling up to the Palace behind a pair of pintos."

  The princess finally smiled. "I think that's a grand idea. It'll get me into the habit of shocking the Royal family."

  The guards managed to stay expressionless as he handed her up to the front seat, and climbed up beside her.

  She glanced back to see that they were staying back out of hearing. "I think the main reason I came here was t
o find out why you keep rejecting invitations."

  Damien sighed. "If I had the faintest bit of common sense I'd have rejected the first one, and run away. The main reason the Royals and the King's Own are frantically warning you away from me—they are, aren't they? Yes. Well. I'm . . . a spy for another polity. Just general information collection, watching how other governments and yours interact. I don't dig for military secrets or assassinate anyone, or . . . anything."

  She straightened and eyed him. "I never could pin down your accent. It's faint, but so very different from anything I'd ever heard. Where are you from?"

  He sighed. "Earth." There was a reason spies should not get involved with women. Should never ever fall in love.

  She was silent as he drove the wagon through the main gates of the palace. He hopped down and extended an unneeded hand to her.

  "Remember. Go shock them."

  She took a deep breath, and nodded. "I will."

  He received no more invitations. The Royal marriage came to a legal end, and the princess took up residence in a large town house she bought with the money she received in her divorce settlement, rather than the dowry everyone had expected. It was considered deliciously shocking.

  Damien, freed from work by heavy snows started visiting the Sooty Duck more often. The bored, and currently extremely pregnant, whores all wanted to know just how well he actually knew the princess, and why hadn't he told them? He countered by asking them if they'd ever heard about the sea hag, a highly magical woman said to live in the far northern coastal village of Black Rock?

  His timing was impeccable. The Recovery Team didn't make it out of the frozen Black Rock Bay at the edge of the ice cap until April.

  Chapter Seven

  Spring 1372, local

  Usse looked at the Leader in exasperation. "Are you going run down every damn whisper? So what if the Sea King has a new mistress? With or without magic?"

  "We will check every possible place she could be hiding."

  "Oh, don't argue. If you're going to go, go. At least this time you won't be coming home to spend half your time in the autodoc fixing your frostbite." He stomped off. They left that afternoon on the tide. Idiots. He paced restlessly, then decided to go out and collect intelligence personally. He supposed he could even explore these new hormones and body parts.

  A bit of wandering brought him to the Sooty Duck.

  He hadn't realized that the tavern the Recovery Team got their rumors from was such a hole. He ordered a large ale, paid with a royal, and took his drink and his change to an obscure corner table. Somehow he'd figured the Team was tapping a more . . . middle class place. Some place nice, with lots of travelers. A blonde woman winked at him, and he shuddered. No blondes! When a dark haired lady came by to see if he wanted another, he boldly suggested she join him. She did, with alacrity, and sat quiet close and failed entirely to keep her hands to herself. While his performance wasn't up to the standards of his first wild experience, the woman didn't half kill him either. He departed satisfied. Clearly his investigation of the local magic was going to have to include these rumors of water and wine that could cure anything.

  Two days later he returned and asked the dark haired woman about it. She knew all about the "Havwee Temple Water" and for an outrageous price she procured a bottle of excellent wine she said had been "anointed."

  They took it to bed, and he knew he'd found the potion the blonde witch had used on him. The dark haired lady went from pretend passion to the real hot sweaty demanding thing and he was up to the task of taming her. He dragged out exhausted, hours later, and took the last bit of wine with him, for analysis. When he'd recovered from a brutal hangover, he ran the wine through a few tests. He could feel the spells, himself, but the machines found the packaging, and to his shock, the actual assemblers. Poor quality control that didn't filter them out . . . The assembler was a huge thing . . . and reproduced itself.

  He very nearly panicked at the thought of a von Neumann's being casually passed around in a cheap bar. Inside my body! A bit more study showed a truly brilliant design that shut down soon after the alcohol hit a certain low level, and ate itself after a day with no alcohol at all. Still . . . these people were insane. He added a bit of wine to his sample, to keep it going, and put it away carefully.

  Chapter Eight

  Late Spring 1372, local

  Damien counted equine noses and sighed. He still had too many horses.

  His young mares were, of course, out at the farm with their latest foals. At least the old mares weren't expecting. They looked good for their age, well fed and muscled from the regular work. Sombrero was eighteen, and Blackie nineteen. They'd shed out, and their coats were glossy.

  He was halfway up Garvin hill on Felice street when he spotted the riding party. Obviously headed out the east gates, probably to see the spectacular wildflowers blooming in the inland valleys.

  Nicole had a lord on either side of her, Shy and Merc, with a mixture of old and new suitors trailing in their wake. As usual, only two other women. Most likely King's Own, in civilian clothes. The men weren't going to risk being crossed off the list by bringing along competition.

  Nicole spotted him, and bit her lip. Looked down and away.

  This time it was Shy who decided to show off. "Get out of the way, peasant. We're in a hurry."

  Damien made a show of looking around. "Street doesn't seem all that crowded."

  Lord Shy drew his sword.

  If he slices my harness, I'm going to be really pissed. And inconvenienced by this pathetic little man.

  The razor sharp edge cut Sombrero's throat with ease. Blackie jerked away from the fountain of blood, and Sombrero reared back and fell over. Damien hauled on the lever that set the brake, and rolled off the bench. He landed on his feet under Shy's horse's muzzle, stepped further, to Shy's left hand side, grabbed his booted foot and heaved him up and over the far side of his mount. Lord Shy sprawled across Sombrero's twitching body, and his horse spooked. Damien grabbed the reins, and hung on to prevent Shy being dragged. The noble kicked free from the stirrups and Damien released the horse. He stepped in and kicked the man as he tried to rise. Boot tip to solar plexus. Damien twisted the sword from the man's hand, placed it carefully on the curb and drove his boot heel down on it. The pretty toy snapped.

  Then he turned away and started stripping the harness off poor Sombrero.

  "Damien?" Tears were running down Nicole's face, but she looked angry as she jumped off her horse.

  "Sorry, Nicole. I shouldn't have kicked him. The mentally defective cannot help themselves."

  Shy forced himself to his feet, weaving as he fumbled at his belt, then spotted the remains of his sword. "You dare!" The wheeze made it a bit less than threatening.

  "Yeah. Kiss my ass, you inbred criminal."

  "You can't call him that!" Damien didn't take the time to identify this one. When the dandy' hand went to his sword, Damien reached for the cinch strap, and jerked it to clear the buckle tongue. The saddle slid and the highbred horse spooked and the other highbred animal hit the ground. From the volume of his cussing, he wasn't much hurt.

  The two Ladies grabbed Nicole and yanked her away as the rest of the nobles closed in.

  If a single one of the horses had been trained to battle, he'd have been in trouble. As it was, a few kicks sent two horses backing and rearing, and kept their riders busy, while Damien dealt with the other two. Other than getting his feet stepped on, bumped around and staggered by a half hearted kick from a nervous mount, the damage was all to the young lords. He went out of his way to not damage them too much. By the time the City Watch showed up, all six lords were groaning on the ground, their swords out of reach, and their horses had departed, hopefully for home.

  The city watch took one look and sent for reinforcements of the higher ranking type. A captain of the King's Own arrived first, with a dozen guards. All mounted.

  "Duchess." He saluted, looking relieved. "Your horse found his way hom
e."

  "Good. Now, I'm afraid one member of my party deliberately killed this horse, starting the confrontation." She pointed at Shy. "Please detain him."

  At a gesture from the officer, two men helped Shy to his feet and kept hold of him.

  The officer was no doubt catching a lot of comments from the spectators, who were getting quite thick around them. He looked speculatively at Damien, who was now trying to look peaceful and harmless. The other five men on the ground were getting up, and starting a tangle of demands for Damien's arrest, and threatening to take instant justice themselves.

  "Excuse me gentlemen, but haven't you tried that already?" Nicole curled a lip at them. "I think your reputations as fighters have been exaggerated. I suggest you not trouble Mr. Malder to beat up the five of you again."

  The affront to their prowess brought them all to their feet, but only Firth advanced on Damien, fists raised. Damien shifted his weight, turned to lash out with one booted foot. Firth leaped back, tripped and went down. Damien returned to leaning on his wagon. Poor Blackie was nosing her buddy, wondering why she was napping amidst these alarming odors.

  Damien raised his voice a bit. "Captain, these gentlemen were obviously over excited, and incapable of doing much damage. Why don't you release them to go find their horses. Lord Shy held a grudge against me. Perhaps it would be best dealt with through our lawyers. Or, of course, he could deal with the problem he has caused by handling the removal of the horse, personally."

  Shy's nose went straight up. "I do not clean the streets."

  "Well then. Run home to your Daddy, and ask him to hire a lawyer for you."

  Shy gritted his teeth. "I will see that you are recompensed for the loss of your horse."