Wine of the Gods 03: The Black Goats (18 page)

"Well, you left often enough
," she pointed out. "So, are you taking a horse?"

"Ha! My own damn fault for breeding all the mares. All the teams are needed for plowing. And all the riding horses are pregnant."

"Take Chocolate."

He blinked down at her. "He's your favorite."

"Except
maybe
for Kite. You need a horse. It'll be faster, and right now he's the only one we really don't need."

He sighed. "It would speed things up. Al
l right, girl, I'll take your horse, and I'll try really hard to bring him back, too."

***

"Strictly speaking," Never told the elders, "It's not the witches' business. But it could be a problem for the valley."

The Sisters of the Dark Crescent and the Waning Half, all with babes in arms listened attentively.

"Juli and Fava are having trouble connecting with two of their babies. I can't think of any man around who could have given the babies that black hair, and the only thing I can think of with those honey brown eyes are . . . well those black goats the Sheep Man used to keep. What were they?"

Elegant sat up frowning. "Earth, Moon and Stars! I should have seen it!"

"They were, or rather are, wizards." Answer frowned at Elegant, "They were bespelled to be goats. They've broken loose and are gone now. Seven of them. The one, of course, is dead."

"Is that how those first three escaped?" Blissful wrinkled her nose. "They could break the spells controlling them by deflowering a virgin. Fava, Juli, and who else? Are any of the other girls having problems?"

Break spells by deflowering a virgin?
Never thought about the goats she'd seen raping their way through the Ba'alists army.
Well, men start out virgin, too. And then there was the goat that not-quite-raped the Inspector General. Breaking spells. Whose spells? The Sheep Man?

"If that's all it took, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner!" Delight snapped.

"Oh, they wouldn't dare deflower a witch. Even with goat brains they had more sense of self preservation than that!" Curious sniffed. "And the Mage girls usually lose their virginity on their sixteenth birthday. I wonder why the Mages made those two wait?"

"I'll go have a talk with the girls." Elegant sat forward suddenly. "I understand their problem."

"Elegant?"

She pressed her lips together, and blushed. "When I was young and stupid . . . well, I didn't get pregnant with my first, so I was just experimenting with the power flows, waiting for some likely fellow to come through. I thought those randy goats would be an interesting test . . . it got . . . quite nasty. I hadn't intended to actually . . . I mean I was just going to pull power in and out and see how it affected a male animal. I certainly learned a bit about how to control males that night. Eventually. It was quite a shock to have to fight like that. It was an even bigger shock to fall pregnant, though."

Answer hid her face in her hands. "I don't suppose you know which one you seduced?"

Seduced isn't quite the right, term, Grandmother.
Never thought about the oversized diseased pizzle on the goat she'd seen . . .
Eww!

"I didn't realize what they were, and no, I don't know which one was the father. I couldn't tell them apart. Except for the huge one."

"Elegant! Surely not more than one!"

Never boggled quietly.

"It got badly out of control for awhile." Elegant shrugged ruefully, "Like I said, I understand what is bothering those girls. And Justice turned out very well, and maybe talking about that will help them see that it isn't the babies' fault."

Blissful frowned. "Have you spoken to Justice about this?"

Elegant looked shocked. "Certainly not!"

"Sired by a wizard and consorting with one. No wonder Question . . . well, no matter. Thank you, Never, for bringing this to our attention."

Never nodded and stepped out quietly. Odd, the things one took for granted. She'd grown up around the goats. Thinking nothing of them, apart from shying a rock at them if the smelly things got too close. Apparently safe because the wizard-goats had enough sense to know a virgin witch could kill them, and a non-virgin wouldn't give them the power they needed to break spells. Why had those nasty creatures suddenly felt safe enough to rape the girls? Had something else happened that night? Where had the Sheep Man been?

Dydit Twicecutt polished off the last tidbit of his most excellent dinner. There was nothing like eating grass, hay and twigs for years to make one really appreciate a good dinner. And the chubby woman who ran the kitchen here knew what to do with spices.

He had lingered here for an extra week, just for her cooking. If he had a castle, he'd have kidnapped her and chained her in the kitchen . . . no wait. His father'd done that once. She had come close to killing him. Botulism in the green beans. Humph, so maybe he'd better just go before he did something really stupid.

". . . so leave that to your betters." The man walking through the door was wearing the tabard of the Church of Ba'al over a city suit.

Dydit felt his mouth go dry. He squinted and looked a bit sideways. A rosy glow surrounded the man. Dydit sighed in contentment. A virgin of Ba'al. Life was good.

The woman following him was plain as pudding, a clumping big girl, also in the tabard, but with the plain border that meant she was some sort of menial. He squinted. Drat. Not that he couldn't rape her, but it wouldn't break anything. May be he should just travel on . . . no, first break another spell, rape the woman, and then travel on.

He sighed. He didn't dare disobey the old Wizard King. He rubbed his bandaged arm as a chill ran down his spine. He could feel the Wizard King to the north, which was why he was traveling south. Away from him, away from
her
. Not that he cared. The witch had just been a way to break spells. And she'd nearly killed him. And he didn't care. It wasn't the way of Wizards to care about anyone but themselves.

He leaned over the counter and caught the eye of Mistress Hephyr, "Mistress, I'm going to be leaving first thing in the morning. Would you like me to pay up now or in the morning?"

"Oh, Mister Twicecutt, we're going to miss you. I'll work the bill up now, and you can pay it whenever its convenient."

"Thank you mistress, and I'll certainly miss your hospitality."

But he could still rape the servants of Ba'al. That was permitted.

He shouldn't do it.

Yes he should, he was hungry for it. Raping virgin servants of Ba'al just joined business to pleasure. Pity about this recent spate of the female virgins giving themselves to Ba'al, ripping their maidenhood with the butt of a Holy Flail. And so odd that it removed them from the magical realm of 'Virgin'. Rumor had it that the Inquisitor General was actually pregnant with Ba'al's child. Now that would be a trick. From the stories, though, Maleth had spewed all over her. He'd bet some had gotten in there, and that she was pregnant with the child of the Black Beast of Scoone.

He rubbed his bandaged . . .  left hoof. He'd been a goat for so long, he had a little reminder. What if the baby was similarly marked? Wouldn't he love to see the look on the Inquisitor General's face when the baby arrived! Wouldn't happen though, they'd only been goats on the outside. Their essences had remained hum
an, the better to torment them.

Anyway, he wouldn't wish this on an innocent baby.

He shook his head. Fuzz in the brain, one half arguing with the other or something. What did he care about some wretched baby? He stepped up to his room and started packing. He would have to leave, soon after, if he played any games with the Ba'alists, and it would be even better if he were thought to have left before anything happened.

Coming down the stairs he passed the two Ba'alists.

"Bless you, son. You should come to the Temple grounds and pray for healing," the male smirked.

Figures he can get a big donation from me for their building project.

"No time, I'm leaving in the morning, I want to travel only in broad daylight. It's dangerous to be outside after dark, the uncanny
things
that are about." Dydit clutched his bandaged goat foot to his chest, as if reliving an injury.

The man's eyes brightened. "Uncanny? Where? Show me!" He grabbed Dydit's shoulder.

Dydit shook his head vigorously. "No. I'm never going near the place again. If you're fool enough, go out the north gate, and then west on the river's bank!" He gave a realistic shudder. "I was only looking for a place to camp!" He pulled away from the man's restraining hand, and hustled down the stairs.
Oh Ba'al! Say farewell to another Virgin.

He left town through the west gate, early in the morning. Once out of sight of prying eyes, and with a breath of a spell to be sure of it, he circled the town proper, and headed for the river. The foliage was just starting to show tender green leaves, the fields were freshly plowed. Light breeze, cool spring air. It was a wonderful day for a rape.

***

Dydit had a hideous feeling that he might be turning into a nice guy. Barely enjoying rape anymore.
They were Ba'alists. They didn't matter. They shouldn't matter. He didn't even hardly enjoy the horror his victims seemed especially prone to while he was changing, anymore.

Although slowly raping his way through an army might be fun. Again. Heh. Twice Cut indeed! Once as a lad, to prevent puberty at a critical juncture of his wizardly development, and again last year when Nil had realized what they'd done, enabling three of them to escape. He'd had to sodomize with his hoof and then blow three virgins before he'd been able to regrow his testicles and start raping properly. That had been a memorable battle. He'd only actually killed a score of Holy Warriors himself. But he'd raped seven of them while he was doing it. In the middle of a battle. Now
that
was how to fight.

He checked how the transformation back into man was coming along. Ah, hands were such
handy
things! Better in pairs, but even one was lovely for poking through the Ba'alists things for money. They always carried so much. He hadn't had any financial problems all year.

He dressed in front of the still supine man, and left before he was recognizable. For now he preferred to not need to hide. So he walked away, still heading south. Another ten days
to Farofo at this rate, then he could take the Old Road of the South to the east almost all the way to Scoone.

He soaked up sunshine as he strode along bare headed, and started checking what he could and couldn't do. Still couldn't shake the last clinging bit of the goat spell. He rewrapped his hoof, and looped the sling around his neck.

He felt so energized he walked far into the night before curling up in a field. He gotten to where he really liked laying out in the grass, watching the stars. Being a goat wasn't all bad.

The next week he reached Farofo, full of sunshine and warm brown people, and sniffed his way around the small town. Having thus identified the inn with the best cook, he walked in and engaged a room for the night. They had a proper dining room, no rowdy drunks to interfere with the savoring of dinner. Half way to a table he froze at the sight of a familiar face. He turned to run . . . he tried to turn, to back up, to look away . . .

King Nihility crooked a finger and Dydit walked up to him like a well trained dog. "Why Dydit, haven't seen you for months. Do join me, excellent cook here."

Dydit pulled out a chair and sat down. He couldn't even feel the compulsion, was it gone? Had it ever been? Perhaps he was just a well trained goat.

"Not what you're used to, of course. Shall I ask if they have any hay?"

"No thank you." He could feel his privates trying to pull into his body in terror. He wished he could join them.

"In that case I recommend the standing rib roast. It's excellent."

A waitress brought a menu to him, but he was afraid to take his eyes off the King. "Rib roast, rare."

"So, Dydit, headed south, are you? I'm going east myself. Care to join me?"

"Scoone. You're going back to Scoone?"

"I thought I'd take a look around the old place, kill anyone that was still looking for me, and so forth."

Dydit shuddered. "How long has it been? Do you think Deldri
ous is still alive? Still King?"

Nil snorted, and covered his mouth with his linen napkin to stifle laughter.

Dydit glared.

"I shouldn't have expected goats to keep time, but really! You've been free for nearly  a year and it hasn't occurred to you to find out what year this is?"

Dydit hunched a shoulder. "These Westerners use some old calendar. They think it's 1353."

Nil si
ghed and shook his head. "Goats! It is 1353. You were a goat for a bit over seven hundred years."

Dydit sat very still for a very long time. A plate of succulent rare beef swimming in juices appeared in front to him and he twitched. Vegetables, warm yeasty rolls. He fumbled with fork and knife and started eating. Put the silver down and swallowed.

"Who is king?"

"I haven't been able to find out. I keep being told the most absurd things. It would be funny if everyone wasn't saying roughly the same thing. According to these tall tales they
—the entire citizenry—choose a new king every ten years."

"Ah. And then they burn the old one at the stake?"

The hideous old man brightened. "I hadn't thought of that! That does make sense."

Dydit cautiously resumed eating.

"In any case, I'm going there. Who knows which wizards may have survived."

"And you are going to kill them."

"I'm thinking about it. So, do you want to come?"

Dydit tried to put the brakes on, tried to slow down. However tempting it was to have someone
this powerful to both fight beside and hide behind, and frankly to gather all the attention . . . he knew there was a catch. There had to be.

"What's the catch?"

"I may need a goat, here and there."

Dydit clutched his hoof to his chest.

"Hmph. Still having a problem with shreds, I see. Didn't Maleth teach you to do boxes?"

"Boxes?"

The old man looked him straight in the eye, and fuzzy little spell shreds all over his brain fizzled away. "What a mess. Nasty little bits of Maleth everywhere. No wonder you're having trouble being a decent human being. I'm surprised you can think at all."

"Oww!" Dydit
flexed his fingers inside the bandage, then took it out of the sling and unwrapped it under the table. The Goat Spell was gone. Entirely gone.  His hand looked fine. "Boxes?"

"Like this."

And the whole of the goat spell rolled out for his inspection, hanging in the air between them. Incredibly intricate, amazing. Beautiful. Then it was rolled back up and placed in a box. The old man stared in his eyes and he could
see
the box floating between them. 'Evil Goat Wizard ' was written on it, clearly. The latch was a simple hook.

The Wizard  King reached out and pushed the box into his brain. "And there it is. Right there." He tapped Dydit's forehead.

"Yeah." He examined the box with wonder, and started to mentally reach for the latch.

"Whoa. You don't want to do that in here, do you?"

"Umm, no?"

"Check it in two days when we leave town." The old king commanded.

"Two days? What are you doing, tomorrow?"

"Buying you a horse. Or were you planning on walking to Scoone?"

"They have stages."

"Do they? Hmm . . . Well go ahead and take one if you wish. I'm riding." The old man  finished his meal and sat back. "See you in the morning, then."

***

Oscar followed Lieutenant Byson closely, Bran on his heels. They had cornered Duke Rivolte on the Auralian border, and
the colonel was determined to finish the matter here.

"The Duke has a decent claim to the throne through his grandfather." Byson explained. "And with Auralian backing, or rather the Auralian's using him as an excuse, we could wind up in another war. We must not let him cross the border."

So a dozen troops were afoot, winding through this maze of desert arroyos, trying to cut off a line of retreat before the battle started. Byson waved them down behind some brush, and started climbing the low wall to check their position.

Oscar turned a worried eye on Bran. He was paler than even a redhead should be. Rubbing his arms uneasily. He caught Oscar's eye and flushed, embarrassed. "I keep thinking about those goats. I don't know why. It's like they're right there!"

He pointed and for just a second Oscar could swear he saw a dark form . . . he was carrying a crossbow, already cocked, and he fitted a bolt carefully.

"What are you doing?"

"I sort of see them, too." He remembered too many wild hide and seek games with mage and witch children to doubt what he saw. And what had worked for witches . . . "Bran, that blood spell you used to do, when we hunted witches."

Bran looked at him blankly, then pulled out his boot knife and nicked his wrist. Drew lines on the arrow. Touched the knife to Oscar's forehead. His mouth moved in silent words.