Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars (15 page)

He jerked his hand away from the statue and tripped down the two steps he'd mounted. He stared at the bronze figure for a long moment. Then picked himself up and climbed back to grab the figure firmly, and lower his shields, to reach into this thing and find a sleeping and confused muddle. :: What are you? Who are you?::

A confused, slow fumbling attempt to understand. Then whatever he had touched sank back into sleep.

"Holy wah . . . umm. Oh. My." Wink grabbed the statue's arm. "What is holding you trapped in there? Can you open it?"

Ajha squeezed the bronze arm and couldn't budge it. Sent a simple anti-sleep spell.

The consciousness fumbled, reached ever so slowly . . . Ajha fell off the dais a second time at the clang of the grill hitting the ground. As the noise echoed off the stone walls, he could see the statue's arms moving slowly, tucking in to touch the chest. Slowly. Slowing.

"
Wink, maybe we ought to let it go back to sleep."

"No, I want to know what the One is going on here."

Wink leaped up and grabbed the statue :: Open! Open! Out! :: Then he gasped and fell to his knees.

"Wink, let go!" Ajha grabbed him, felt the power being sucked out of the Withione, and through him, Ajha. He needed to let go . . . His hands spasmed open, and he spun and kicked across Wink's wrists, knocked him away from the moving metal.

The statue clawed at its chest in slow motion. Something rippled over the metal; the bronze pulled away, like a balloon popping in slow motion.

The large naked man frowned around and finally focused on him.

"All right, Rebeccah, you are finally going to get what you deserve."

"Uh . . . " Ajha grabbed Wink and pulled him further away. "Uh . . . are you the Great God Ba'al?"

"What? Who are you? I had a hell of a hallucination about . . . " The man trailed off, looking around at the amphitheater. He rubbed his arms as if cold. "This is definitely odd. Where's Rebeccah? I'm going to get that bitch. I know those panic and confusion spells were her fault. Edmund? Where the Hell are you? Mercy? Art?" The man threw his head up suddenly. "The comet's coming! Bloody Hell! They're already shielded." He grabbed something from thin air. Flipped it, jumped in. A bronze statue crashed to the ground.

Ajha looked around. Grill on ground, empty dais. Sprawled statue. It was moving, very slowly.
Or maybe it was just his imagination.

Wink scuttled away. He
grabbed Ajha's offered hand to climb to his feet, and kept backing away.

They didn't bother about concealment on the way out. In fact they avoided the shadows. Ajha was shivering a bit in the
chilly night, and felt a bit disoriented. Weak. That last power draw . . . "Well, we wanted to know what a Western Magician was like. Not unlike a vampire." They squeezed back through the hole in the fence and staggered for home.

***

Lefty looked at the sprawled statue. And told himself that sudden shiver down his spine was just the cold wind . . . "So the Ba'alists moved it back inside, and it sat back down. Until last week. Now it looks like it is trying to get up off the floor.

"Well, I think we both know it's not a statue." Dydit poked at the bronze hair. "There's a little bit of give to it, now. Do you think we should talk to Harry or the Auld Wulf?."

Lefty prowled back around. "They both say there's an actual God in there. They don't like him, at all. I don't either, but I'd just as soon not have to fight him again."

Rufi looked down at the statue and shook his head. "And I don't like the idea of it getting up and walking around. I have enough trouble with the non-magical Ba'alists."

Selano Discorski had been sitting cross legged on the floor, one hand on the statue's ankle. Now he sighed. "There's something in there, having weird incoherent dreams. Or maybe thoughts. It, he, no doubt, is not thinking clearly. I don't know how much of a direct threat he is. But it's no wonder the Ba'alists are quite certain their God is returning to life."

"And they cause more problems than a mere animated statue could ever create." Rufi concluded. "I think maybe we should strip all the statues out of here. Put them out on an island in the bay or something. Give pride of place to that big one out there, and stick this one off to the side. The Senior Priests are fighting tooth and nail to hang onto their property, and the Courts are listening. Sometimes the rule of law is a real mare."

Selano snorted. "Matter of public safety?"

Rufi chuckled. "If I strike fast, I might get all the statues out of here before the Ba'alists can get an injunction. Ah well, it'll keep
me from worrying about Earth."

1
January 3481 / Winter 1362

Karista to Fascia
, Comet Fall

New orders came in at the first of the year. Was it possible to check these reports of a possible Oner agent, partial name "Pax," in the government of Auralia? Could they open a second spy post in this Fascia?

They swapped looks.

Damien nodded. "I could take some long hauls, then divert from Farofo to Cadent. The satellite photos show a road from there south, around what ought to be the Caribbean Sea to Fascia, which is more-or-less where Caracas would be on Earth.. I can at least take a good look, see how we'd fit in, in the other country."

Mike nodded. "Think how you could make it work, because it sounds like the Amma and the Oners are getting way too friendly."

Damien bought two more horses, even larger than the pintos, and a heavy freight wagon. And then another midweight harness horse to team up with Blue. They made a good lead pair, leaving Blackie and Macy for around town hauling—assuming they were going to keep working as haulers—and taking the Bear wagon out of the city for the monthly reports.

Driving four horses took a bit more work than a single pair, but with a bit of practice he and his 'nephew' Carl were hired on to haul lumber and food to one of the mining towns, with the promise of employment on the return trip carrying gold. It got them closer to this Fascia, and better yet, into the circles of drivers who'd been everywhere.

"I always hated carrying to Auralia." Herv Beaner spat at their campfire. "You miss one toll or tax and they slap you in jail, and if someone isn't right quick with the money, you're enslaved, cut and sold. Never seen again."

Heads nodded.

Another one started an improbable story about a trip to Verona, and involved what the man claimed was an orgy that pretty well encompassed the whole capital city of Cadence and was spreading fast into the rest of the country. Most of the drivers laughed with Damien, but a few smirked knowingly. It was a good orientation trip, down to Havwee. They hauled gold back to Karista, and then signed on for a trip all the way to Farofo, leaving during a gap between winter storms. From there they signed on for Ochase in Verona.

From Ochase they hired on with a merchant headed for Fascia. Damien was grateful for the cool spring weather as they traversed the rolling hills covered with scrubby desert brush, cacti, and in this season, some grass. Fascia was unexpectedly foreign, the primary language derived from a mixture of English and Spanish, like Merican, but with more Spanish and generous dose of Arabic words, although the basic grammar was close enough to Merican.
It was the culture that was the most foreign to them.

There were slaves. Eunuchs.

Clothing styles were different, the women wore skirts and short sleeved blouses, sandals were common. The men wore loose fitting pants, long shirts and usually ornate sashes with multiple knives. Hats of all sorts, very few bare heads. Max and Damien dressed to fit in, and saw the sights of Fascia without any feeling that they were anything but outsiders. On the other hand, gossip about the Amma's wives was rampant, and Princess Rior well known.

"Really? So just being the most incredibly beautiful woman in the world isn't enough? She has to have a baby, too?" Damien shook his head at the woman he was buying a drink for.

"Oh, yes. Three years without a baby is an insult to the Amma's virility." She batted her eyelashes at Damien and finished her drink.

He ordered another. "Well, since he's got all those other hundreds of children that seems silly. Obviously the problem is hers. But if she's that pretty, and won't loose her figure with children, I expect he'll be happy to keep her."

"Oh no. The Amma has lots of pretty wives. When they get old or fat he gives them to a nephew or a brother. He can marry as many women as he wants." She patted her brown hair wistfully. "I was never pretty enough or rich enough to catch a husband."

Carl looked over from beyond the tawny blonde he was plying with liquor. "Gives away a wife? She has no say in it?"

"Of course not! That would be silly."

The blonde nodded. "If she hurries and gets pregnant, and gives him a son, he might value her again. But his newest wife is pregnant after barely a year, so she is high in his regard."

The brunette smiled. "That
means she gets the best rooms and has servants all her own."

"Or she will if she has a boy."

"Maybe she ought to talk to the God of Peace, for a potion."

Both women looked at Damien like he'd grown a second head.

"For that she'd have to talk to the Goddess of Fertility."

"And she can't talk to a man! Old Gods, the Amma would think she was unfaithful and discard her."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "Discard?"

"Just throw her out . . . well, maybe he'd find some minor Solti and give her to him. To avoid an open scandal."

"So, what good is a God of Peace, then?" Damien kept fishing.

They both shrugged. "That man isn't a God. He's just another leech, kissing up to the Amma. Really, Gods don't just walk around like real people."

And that was about all the information they could glean.

The public works weren't up to Karista standards; the town stank of excrement, equine, bovine and human. Most businesses employed family only, and their tentative attempts at independent hauling ending in substantial bribes, that is fines, for reasons best left unquestioned.

They were both happy to leave.

It was
August before they got back to Farofo, and mid-September before they hauled a ton of gold into Karista. They delivered it to the mint and thankfully drove home. They were received with whoops of joy and the unharnessing taken out of their hands. Beers were pressed on them and something that might be a party seemed to be starting before they even made it to the house.

He blinked in surprise at a bay and white pinto looking over the stall wall. His sister's mix-and-match foal with all the engineered genes was a very tall fellow, at
nine months old.

"Solstice is just getting better and better." Code grabbed a halter and led him out. "Isn't he fabulous?
"

Damien
eyed the big pinto. "Damn nice animal."
And when the experiment is concluded, the test animals are to be euthanized, incinerated so that all genetic material is destroyed. Good thing Solstice isn't in my sister's hands. And anyway, these genes are all from here, so there's no contamination.
Solstice swiveled an uncertain ear his direction. "Guess he's forgotten me, I've been gone for so long."

             
He sold the heavy pair and the big wagon. If he bought another open wagon, weaned Solstice and bought another horse to pair with Sombrero they could run two wagons almost all the time.
Just like a real businessman. I must be crazy.

20 Jumada1364/late spring 1362 local

Karista, Kingdom of the West, Target World Forty-two

"Six months and we're making no progress on the local magic. We need to get the magic question settled, so we can watch the Earthers when they return. Sooner or later Verona, Scoone or the Cove Islands will decide to talk to them, to use them for advantage. That's when we'll have to step in and arrange an unfortunate accident. For one party or the other."

Ajha nodded. "Easier to keep the Earth confined to a tiny area, than get rid of it once it has an ally. But what is there that we can do about tracking down any magical organizations here?"

Usse snorted. "I think it is time to apply a bit of pressure to an information source that has fallen, by pure chance, into the perfect place. Come along. I hate wandering around this smelly horse-infested city, but it would be best to meet my old friend accidentally."

Ajha hustled out the door after him.
"By pure chance" was the term they had drilled into them, in place of "by the One," which must never be spoken in public, and thus best never used in private to prevent the resurgence of old habits of speech.

Six months of watching Usse and his web of contacts had been interesting. The Post Head frequented a few of the local taverns. Not the nearby dives, but fairly nice places. He'd meet people,
contacts, not friends. Some he'd pay for information, some would gossip non-stop for a drink. Some were clients and paid Usse for services or information. A few of the clients even came to the warehouse. This contact was apparently a bit different.

"The Holy Captain didn't so much worship Ba'al, as he'd worshipped the 'Holy Mother', poor fool. When the Temple leaders were arrested, he grabbed her child and bolted. Two years later, I spotted him in high company. Apparently pure chance had placed him to save a Lady's life, and he is now firmly entrenched in Lord Byson Treham's household. Lord Byson serves directly under Prince Rufi Negue. He's a relative of some sort. Cuffi does all the marketing for the household, so sooner or later we'll find him."

"Are most of your contacts mostly worshipers of Ba'al?"

"Or former worshipers. Despite getting well inside the power structure, I never could find a truly powerful magic user organizing it. And then it all crashed."

The main market was far enough away from the docks for the fishy smell to have abated, but not so far as to encroach on truly desirable ground. It occupied the strip between warehouses and factories below and the first expensive shops above.

They strolled through the market until Usse nodded at a heavyset man picking vegetables. A brilliantly blond boy, aged perhaps eight years, was at his side. Usse curled a lip disdainfully, but placed himself carefully and bought three good looking apples for the show of it.
For a culture with no insecticides, they certainly have nice produce,
Ajha thought. Usse turned away from the stall and came face-to-face with the native.

"Old Gods! Cuffi! It's been years!"

The man blinked, and paled a bit. "Err, Mousey. Yes. Indeed."

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee? You know, I was thinking just the other day about the Inquisitor General, and her adventure. You were actually there, weren't you?"

Ajha trailed a bit behind, and leaned on a post beside the coffee shop where he could overhear the man's reluctant memory of the incident. Usse expressed curiosity as to the location of the bizarre encounter, and the man seemed relieved to not have to answer other questions about it. Usse kept the child well supplied with cookies to keep him busy, and kept his distance as if the child were a contagion, and didn't drag out the meeting. The men parted amiably, and Ajha wandered over and swabbed the glasses the man and boy had used. Might as well find out if the adherents of Ba'al had more or fewer engineered genes than the atheist commoners. Then he purchased some ears of corn and a beef roast for dinner, before heading home. He prided himself on having gotten quite good at cooking dead animals.

Usse looked moderately amused at his bundles as he busied himself in the kitchen. "One good thing about you lot. You're flexible and will attempt damn near anything. Did you get that location? Three days east of Wallenton in the Foothills Province."

Ajha pulled out a map overlay of a satellite photograph. "Here. There's a small village . . . It's not far from the estimated co-ordinates of that battle between the Earthers and the local magicians. A bunch of mountains in between, mind you."

Usse smiled thinly. "Excellent. I've wanted a search of that battle site. Go
do it. Come back through that village. Cautiously, mind you. No telling what you'll find."