Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats (17 page)

Juli and Fava had tactfully, well, gleefully actually, chosen a location in between the village and the first of the farm houses, hopefully linking them, not isolating themselves from both groups.

Answer and Blissful, the Dark Crescents, moved in, shaping the field boulders into squares and rectangles, laying a floor and erecting the basement walls. When they needed more stone, the Sisters of the Full Moon pulled them from the ground where Juli and Fava were planning to plant a garden. Sunk head height into the ground, and reaching half that above it, the foundations needed just one more thing. Answer and Blissful watched alertly as the Triad of the Waning Half joined forces and pulled power and channeled it into heat. The stone quivered and for the blink of an eye was liquid. The Triad channeled the power back into the Earth, and the younger witches crowded in to admire the solid, seamless, stone foundation.

Fava eased her sleeping daughter back onto the blanket under the oak tree, and walked out to run her hands over the stone. "That is amazing
," she breathed.

"We'll just do a bit of fireplace and chimney work, then the rest of the house will be up to the Mages, dear." Answer looked smug, and Never rather thought that the Mages would do their best, if for no other reason than to not be shown up by the expertise of the witches.

Juli finished nursing her second baby, and joined her friend and house mate with the little boy on her shoulder. "It's incredible!"

Never stayed back at the tre
e that would shade the house—once the house existed—and kept an eye on the three other babies. Fava and Juli were so young, and with two babies each their attention was a bit stretched. Fava seemed to lavish most of her attention on her daughter, and Juli on her son, with the other two babies getting by with whatever was left over. She really ought to point that out to them, but the babies were doing fine and everyone was helping out. They were beautiful babies too. Never rocked her own fair darling thoughtfully. The babies the girls spent time with were both fair—and she'd heard rumors about Bran and Oscar being the fathers. The other two babies were black haired, and their eyes had developed into the most striking honey brown.

What other man—a
nd she was thinking there was probably only one, the two babies looked so much alike—had attended their little unauthorized orgy? Black hair. The Mages tended to blonde and red—they were all disgustingly closely related—and it was hard to imagine Harry, the Auld Wulf or the Sheep Man joining a teenagers' orgy. And anyway, their coloring was wrong. She leaned over the crib and studied the babies. No. That hair was as dark as midnight in a mine, but the babies' skin was fair. She didn't think any of the trio of unmarried older men could have produced this pair.

She snorted in amusement. It hardly mattered who. What mattered was that the mothers had reservations about those two babies. At least there was no problem finding someone to nurse a baby while the mother was busy elsewhere
—or catching up on sleep.

Black hair, black hair . . . Mostly's Lord Merc had hair like that, black as a goat, but Mostly'd kept him busy.

Never choked suddenly.

Black as a goat.

The goats that she'd seen rape their way through an army.

She'd watched the Inquisitor General's fight on the hill through her seeing glass, and had examined the dead body, the honey brown eyes staring sightlessly. Yes. All those goats had had eyes that color. Earth, Moon, and Sun! What had happened? Maybe she would cut the girls some slack, and help out with the babies as often as she could. Because all witches knew the fathers didn't really matter. But Juli and Fava might have a problem separating the child from the father.

She turned back to the empty foundations, and watched the chimney rise in the center, where it could heat the whole house.

Brock, the young man they'd built the store for, was watching open mouthed. He hadn't quite adjusted to life in the middle of a village full of magic users. He was surrounded by his usual stable of admirers. Particular and Opinion, Catti and Zam. Everyone had sort of wondered if Juli or Fava would take to him, but they seemed a bit male-phobic. Now she understood.

The Mage Compass had been up in the forest, and now they were bringing down the lumber.

The weather was crisp and cold, above freezing today, and now, a moon past the winter solstice, they still didn't have any snow on the ground.

Good for building a new house, bad for next summer's water supply.

She wondered if Coo Miller was a strong enough Storm Mage to call the snow. He was t
he only Storm Mage in the Compass.

They had cut tall straight trees, and transported the whole logs, first down the river, and now they were showing off. The Blood Mages' control of water was strong enough to defy gravity in a small area. The logs floated up hill on a churning layer of water that gushed
up to the foundations, then suddenly poured away.

The Mages circled the first log and it split, falling into beautifully smooth planks. The Mages hummed and water oozed out as the boards shivered a bit but didn't warp.

They sliced all the wood, not a saw cut needed, and then they all worked to assemble it and the Mages magicked it together, tighter than nails or pegs.

The witches handed over iron hinges and brass doorknobs, and Harry brought out the ale. They made a bonfire of the wood bark, and roasted chickens and potatoes. Furniture and blankets and curtains started showing up. At midnight, the new home owners were all tucked into bed and the rest of the revelers headed home.

***

The Sheep Man listened to the household's sounds, old Blissful snored a bit, Elegant was restless. Question was so quiet he kept finding himself holding his own breath so he could hear hers. The babies were next door, so he could listen to them easily. Justice's aunt and little sister, and his twins. Three da
ughters. He had three daughters.

And Justice was snuggled up, curled up with her back against his  chest, her butt against his loins. His arm was draped across her, cupping a breast.

"You're going to leave, aren't you?' she asked.

"I need to find out if anyone is after me. They can see me now." He breathed in the scent of her long black hair. "I'll come back." His arms tightened. "Besides, you're a nasty independent little witch. Everyone knows you don't need men."

"That doesn't mean we don't love men. Sometimes."

"Once every fifteen years?"

"I was curious to find out if I could remove what I thought was a curse. And then I was frightened by what I found beneath it."

He chuckled. "Did you picture a nice well educated town boy?"

"A soldier, actually. You had the scars. A wizard," she breathed. "I had thought they were all dead, all gone."

"We are, mostly, mostly. You returned me to life."

She shivered. The stories of wizards, the magical wars that destroyed whole cities. "I was mostly trying to not hurt you."

He captured her hand and kissed it. "But you do hurt me. You are a witch. You won't marry me."

She snorted, relaxed and trusting in his arms. "Witches don't marry. And, and, sometimes I don't know the man under that spell, nor whether he is the same as the man under all those spells."

He tightened his arms. "Sometimes I don't know either."

"The, the chain. It was completely null."

"It wasn't even real, the way most people use the term real. Chains are a spell, a very special spell to stop all magic from getting out."

"The myths talk about chaining wizards. I had envisioned damp dungeons away from the Sun, and shackles."

"Oh, they did
that too. Fools. They depended on the chain spell, and didn't check the state of repair of their dungeons. Damp means rust. Crumbling rotten mortar. Following seepage, digging through mud. Sewers." His brows knitted. "From somewhere I got the sense to just turn and walk away. To not go back and continue the fight. The stupid spell was still ripening—deliberate slow torture, watching helplessly, feeling my mind failing. So I can't blame it for my sudden acquisition of common sense." He smirked, "Although I did bring my nice little goats with me."

"You were there. In the Wizard Wars."

His brows tightened. "Only the last one. That I know of. Do your stories name the Wizard Wars? Or was it so long ago they all blur together?"

"I've seen a list of the Wizard Tyrants. It started with Zapolo and ended with Deldrio."

He chuckled, a warm little sound, "Zapolo was a mage king in the Old World. He came to power in the ruins of the last war between the old gods and the witches and mages who had made themselves godlike. I think your history books got a bit mixed up, lost a big chunk of history in the middle, and picked up with the Wizard Kings of Scoone. Deldrious—ah yes, Deldrious threw me in the dungeon. I'm glad to hear that he was the last. We were not good people."

"The wars between . . . there are myths that the wizards threw down the gods. That was then?"

"No, that was long before. And it wasn't wizards. The Mages and Witches were taking power, making themselves gods. The gods fought back, because the others wanted to
rule
. That was that war. Then heaven closed, and there was only the World. Now? Now there are a few confused old gods and nine nasty old wizards. Eight."

"I didn't know what I was getting into."

"I didn't know what I was getting into either. My mind turned back on—and I discovered I like minding sheep. They're ever so much smarter than nobles. It gave me time to think, to dig at the other layers."

She ducked her head, shyly. "I thought you'd try to get one of the other witches, break more spells."

He scrubbed his cheek on her head. "I was too busy thinking. I had a lot of thinking time to catch up on. And a certain witch to woo. And a daughter to keep an eye on." She stiffened a little in his arms. "She's a wizard, Justice. If she can keep her mind off boys she'll be a good one."

"You can't castrate a girl." she said dryly.

"No. Girl wizards are different. But they get distracted by boys, and then babies and neglect their studies. Question's a late bloomer. She may go all the way to practical wizardry before she gets distracted, if she ever does. The most powerful wizards were women who never had any thing to do with men."

"A bit like witches."

"No, they need to not allow that sort of flow. Wizards don't pass the power on, they hold it."

"No wonder they're all supposed to be insane.
You
pass power."

"I had a good teacher, I think she knocked the arrogant shit out of me and taught me to care. And give up power." He started kissing his way down her body. "Anyway, I can't leave until after lambing and shearing."

"Good, because I think the Mages were a bit too enthusiastic about calling the snow."

"Ah, they get drunk on magic, hence the orgies."

"Hmph. I just hope no one slipped any of that wine in. I think the Valley has enough babies for a few years." Even so there was a wistful note in her voice.

He chuckled. "In a few years. Till then, we'll just practice." He nuzzled into her hair. "We could sneak up to the hot springs . . . "

***

Question learned more about reproduction during lambing season than she figured any girl ought to know.

And as the days warmed and the sunlight strengthened, she even managed to help her Father with the sheering. To find the interface between the fire of the living ewe, and remove everything beyond that. Several fleeces exploded all over the corral, but she got the hang of it. She counted carefully, and including the exploding fleece, she sheared twenty sheep.

Of course, the Sheep Man sheared the other one hundred eighty-two sheep and two hundred and sixty lambs in the same amount of time.

"You caught on quick, girl."

She opened the corral and let the naked sheep run off to the meadow, kicking up their heels in freedom from the weight of their hot coats.

"What do you do to the wool, now? What makes your wool so valuable?"

He laughed. "Nothing. The wool is special because of the breeding stock I brought here . . . a very long time ago. I've been doing selective breeding for a very long time." He ambled over to snag a wad of exploded fleece. "See this?" he untangled the wool, straightened out a hair. "Damn near two feet long, very fine. That's the whole big secret."

"Most sheep aren't like this?"

He chuckled, "Nope. You've been spoiled by growing up surrounded by the very best spinning wool in the world. And you didn't even know it. Well, that's the hard work done for the year. All that's left is haying so we can feed them next winter." He looked down at her. "Will you watch them, for me?"

"I will." She blinked back tears.

"Now, keep an eye on your mother too, and kiss your little sisters a whole bunch." He leaned down, not nearly as far as he'd had to last summer, and hugged her. "Soak up the Sun. Do those exercises." He paced around in a tight circle. "My timing is so bad. I should be drilling you on
everything
. But I need to find out if Scoone is still hunting for me, if they have wizards that can find me. I don't want to draw a swarm of wizards down on Ash. I should have gone last summer."