Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars (22 page)

1 September 3480/ Late Summer 1363

Karista, Kingdom of the West, Comet Fall

"Well, I guess Blue gets a vacation." Damien shook his head as he watched the wet black colt trying to stand. "I'll see what I can pick up to pair with Brownie."

Across the stall divider, Solstice was wide eyed and interested. A tall fellow, at a year and a half, but not filled out yet.

Code winced as the colt threw himself into the stall wall, and slipped in to help. "She must have taken when that noble's horse . . ." He broke off, knowing they were still sensitive about Joe's death. "Look, he's got white hair all through his coat, he's going to sparkle in the sun."

Damien nodded. "Maybe I should
find someone to live at the farm. Some of the other horses could use a break, too." He glanced out at the early night sky. If he looked carefully, he could pick out the faint fuzzy spots of the comets. It was going to be a "comet winter;" cold, with a late spring breakup. Moving a bunch of the horses to the country might not be a bad idea. He ought to be out there, putting up hay, lots and lots of hay, right about now.

Code perked up. "Jeinah would! She hates whoring, she tries to do other things, but the men always expect . . . she and Max . . . but he won't marry her."

Vani nodded her agreement. "I'm so lucky I met Damien before . . . Well, Jeinah is good with horses, too."

Code gave her a quick glance, looked down, blushing. Possibly an improvement over the dumb-struck puppy dog look he usually wore in her presence.

Damien nodded, and decided to send Code and Jeinah both to the farm for the winter. Send Blue and the foal to the farm,
and Solstice would benefit from more time out running in the pasture. If he was going to Auralia again over the winter, he'd need one team. Probably Sombrero and the pale gray he'd bought to team with her, although the prejudices against Travelers . . . Keep the other horses here. With the bays, they could keep two wagons working through the winter, with a spare horse in case of injuries or whatever.
Maybe buy another bay to pair with Brownie, now that Blue's out on maternity leave . . .
Damien sighed.
Did I just decide to buy
another
horse?

***

Tony and Richie worked on the docks while Max went with Damien to help unload and watch his back. They were returning from their third trip uptown when they spotted the ruckus.

Tony, soaking wet and shivering. "I dunno what happened." His hand probed his scalp tenderly. "I must have slipped on some ice, hit my head when I went in. I guess that explains why I thought it was a mermaid that saved me."

That got nervous laughs from some onlookers. One of the closer men snorted. "Now, don't go spouting nonsense. There's no such thing as mermaids. A dolphin was keeping you up on the surface."

Damien forced a grin onto his face. "Or maybe it was a shark throwing you back because you tasted so bad. C'mon, lets get you home and into some dry clothes." He straightened and looked around, his stomach clenching. "Richie around? Tell him what happened."

They watched for followers, but saw none—probably they'd left after hitting Tony and sliding him quietly into the water. Mike joined them, and handed out laser pistols.

There was no sign of Richie along the wharf. They stayed out late looking for him, and kept watch all night. Three days later one of the habitués of the Sooty Duck told him Richie was in the drunk tank. The town guards were delighted someone showed up to claim him. He'd been spotted wandering aimlessly in the vicinity of the Palace, and by now was obviously soft in the head, not drunk. Damien worriedly boosted him into the wagon and hustled him home.

Mike frowned as the medical tests all turned up negative. "Whatever this is, something the Oner's did with hypnosis or drugs or a combination, we need to start acting like they know everything Richie knows. Knew."

Richie smiled aimlessly and continued to make a mess of his breakfast.

The next day at lunch Damien bought some of the "Havwee Temple Water" from Barto. Unfortunately it wasn't the miracle cure he'd hoped for. But Richie did improve. Slowly.

He sent Code off to the farm with a bunch of horses, and dropped all thought of scouting Auralia anytime soon.

2 Muharram 1366 yp /early winter 1364

Fascia, Auralian Empire, Target World Forty-two

As the end of the year approached the comets that had put on a brilliant spectacle all fall, were lost in the evening twilight and then as the first New Moon heralded the New Year, they returned in the morning, spectacularly bright with their tails streaming away nearly perpendicular to the string-of-pearls comet heads.

Rior stood on the roof of her suite and spoke to the head of the astronomers in the mountains to the south. They were spotting hundreds of chunks of rocks, dozens large enough to destroy a city if it was in the wrong place.

"Just under twelve years. The biggest one, sixth in that line." Joil Withione sounded upset. "They'll get a preview in four years when one of the little ones, the fourth, it's very faint, hits."

"This planet simply isn't viable." Rior frowned. "The people seem useful, perhaps we could move a sizable work force to one of the marginal mining worlds."

"Is it possible to evacuate an entire planet?"

"Not one with as poor a transportation network as this one. No, we'll only be able to save a small percentage. Our allies, and anyone else who proves useful. I will communicate with the Directorate. Any move
in that direction will be theirs." She paced. "A pity we've spent so much time and effort training an army . . . I wonder if there might just be something else we could do with them . . . "

She imagined the silence from the scientist was alarm, and smiled. "I think I'll speak to the Ambassador and the Commander."

22
January 3481 / Early Winter 1364 local

Karista, Kingdom of the West, Comet Fall

Damien looked out at the blowing snow and closed the barn door. "I don't think I'll head out until the snow stops. Ugg. Maybe
I'll take a look about noon and see if there enough business to be worth the hassle. So why was everyone so sure you were a witch?"

"Well, things just always happened the way that worked out best for me. The cows always came when I called, and the bad weather always held off until I was inside. People I didn't like had accidents, one man
who got really . . . pushy . . . when I went to town once, this horse across the street spooked and broke his rein and bucked and kicked, and bolted. He kicked the man right in the head and killed him. Then when I wanted Freddie to love me, not Vio, she got sick and had to stay abed, and she asked me to take him a letter. And, well, we started talking, and by the time Vio's spots were gone, Freddie was my beau, not hers."

"Huh. Sounds like mostly pure chance. But if it's real, you ought to practice stuff, learn how to use it deliberately." Damien thought about it for a moment. "C'mon in the house. I have an idea."

Fooling around with cards showed that while Vani had no idea of the values of cards dealt face down, she could easily pick the highest card out of a hand that someone was looking at. She was easily able to pinpoint the pebble under the cup, no matter if the only person who knew where it was left the room before she entered it to pick.

Allie was fascinated, and quickly took over. With a little practice Vani could find things that were hidden, and tell if they were hot or cold.

"That doesn't seem awfully useful, though." Vani looked ruefully at the pebble.

"Yeah, but what if you can persuade horses and cows to do what you want them to? I wouldn't advise driving around town without reins, but it could make life easier around here." Damien peeked out the window. The snow was barely drifting down. "Drat. I may have to work today, after all."

"Old Gods, I hope so!" Allie winced.

Damien translated that with no trouble.
We're one short, now. Only six men underfoot.
He dragged Tony, Max and Carl out to the barn to help him harness up the two bay mares.

"Barn's pretty darn empty without all those pintos. But what are you going to do come spring?" Max scratched Bloomer on the forehead and backed her into the traces.

Damien looked dubiously at the rickety barn. "Yeah, there's no room for four more horses. Maybe I'll just bring Blackie and Macy back. Leave the two the Oners might recognize out to pasture for the summer, or even sell them."
Not to mention what I should do with a two year old stallion. I'm too soft hearted. Or headed, more like.

"If we're going to be here much longer, the barn's going to need an awful lot of work." Tony obviously shared his opinion of the structure. "Maybe we should look into that mess next door, who owns it, anyway? Knock down what little is standing up, and build a better barn there. We could easily run three wagons, full time."

Damien snickered. "Don't tell me my equine hobby, not to mention entrepreneurial example has inspired you? We're, umm, not here to make money, and may leave at a moment's notice."

Tony grinned. "Oops! I sound like I've gone native. All right, how about we do it because we could also build some little apartments and have some privacy for the first time in three years?"

"Not a bad idea. I wonder how much it would cost us?" Damien bit a lip. They were doing well, but should they expand? "I'll look into it. Since this has turned into a longer term posting than we’d expected."

He heaved himself up on to the cold seat of the wagon and clicked his tongue at the reluctant mares. The alley was a foot deep in fluffy snow. The wind had swept the docks clear but nothing much was stirring. He turned the team around and headed home. Perhaps tomorrow there'd be ships coming in, but today he might as well stay warm indoors.

There were two men up and about. A house not quite as ramshackle as theirs had been when he'd bought it was being eyed by people out in the middle of the street. Damien recognized Coulter Magra, a local money lender, semi-legal expert and agent for anything anyone wanted, so long as it was close enough to legal that he could argue himself out of trouble. Today he appeared to be selling houses.

". . . for another century, easy."

The man he was talking to was leaning on a cane and scratching his grey hair. "I know I said I wanted something to fix up, but this is more of a tear down and start over kind of place."

"Nah, look at Damien here! He and his nephews fixed their place right up. Doubled the value inside of about a month. Right Damien?"

"Oh, I suppose so. Why don't you sell someone that rotten mess next door to me, and triple my house's value?"

The grey hair man grinned. "He tried to, but I'm not fool enough to pay what his client wants for it."

Damien looked from the wreck back to Coulter. "Surely not more than five thousand? It's worth less than the ground it stands on, on account of having to get rid of the mess that's there already."

Coulter looked shocked. "Damien! You practically stole your house from old Jinx for three times that!"

"Well, yeah, but mine was repairable." He caught the eye of the grey hair man and stuck out his hand. "Damien Malder. Freight hauler."

"Bert Howard. Retired, damn it. Sold my carpentry business because it was just too much for me anymore." He frowned over at Coulter. "Eighteen thousand, and that's my last offer."

Coulter winced, and waffled. "Well, yeah, all right, I'll take it. But just because it's a slow month. Have to cut my commission so the owners don't complain. Now, why don't we get out of the cold while we do the paper work . . . " He steered Bert toward the Sooty Duck.

Vani and Allie were baking bread, filling the house with wonderful aromas. Damien climbed up to the first floor. As the sergeant, he had a t
iny room all his own. The two lieutenants' rooms were double the size—merely small. The other five—four now—had split the attic between them. He consulted his bank book, and cash on hand. Mike looked in. "How many horses are you plotting to buy, now?"

Damien chuckled. "Actually I was going to build a new barn for them after I buy that mess next door. Not right away though. Not until we see what's going to happen with this damned spy war. We may need the money."

"If we have to retreat? Give up the house? Yeah. What a depressing thought."

Damien agreed, and poured coinage and bills back into the hidden drawer of his little desk.. He had to sit on his bed to use it, the room was so small.

Home Sweet Home. He didn't want to leave it.

"What can we do about this Oner
Action Team?"

Damien
scowled. "We'd better go out three or four at a time. No more solo deliveries to back alleys."

"Da
. Damn it, the way they closed in on you after the last broadcast, I don't want to break silence."

"At least not from anywhere within a couple days drive of here." Damien leaned back against the wall. "I wish I knew more about the Oners. What's with these
Action Teams, anyway? Why do they need hit squads? Are they tyrants on their own World, or on their discoveries?"

"I read an intelligence report once that said until
this century there were three countries on their home World, all rivals, with frequent wars and border disagreements, assassinations and terrorism. The One were an elite of the smallest of the three countries, and are still kept hopping to stay on top of the situation. The report said they'd had a major nuclear exchange in the 1960's that split that World off from Earth. Europe was essentially depopulated all the way to the Urals, North America hit hard. The three major powers grew from the Chinese, the South American countries and the Middle East and Africa. The One is a religion that grew out of Islam, supposedly led by a cadre of magicians."

"The One. Huh. Mutations from radiation exposure, maybe? They really ought to declassify a bunch of that stuff."

"Yeah. I got a good brief. I think. They identified the first natives we encountered as One Worlders based on their genetic engineering. The Dallas people disputed that, saying these guys lacked the radiation damage that all the known One World samples had. And it looks like they're both right – the natives aren't Oners, but the Oners are in the early stages of taking over the World. In any case, what we're facing is a eight man team, well trained, ruthless, probably experienced at infiltration and assassination, while their more urbane types work the political leaders in other ways. That's how they take over other worlds, apparently we've been able to question natives from several of their so-called Client Worlds. Their tech is as good as ours. Remember that."

Damien nodded slowly, unconvinced. "You were at the battle in the canyon. The vid looked like they had force fields.
Sir, just before that rundown assignment, I got sent along with Captain Bergon to observe the questioning of a captured Oner. What I saw is classified, but I have since concluded that the supposed Oner was actually a magician from here. Did you ever talk to the DONA Agents, or the company's people who spent six weeks here? I wouldn't disallow 'magic' as a shorthand for things these people can do."

Mike absorbed all that. "He didn't suicide?"

"Nope.
She
escaped, and like I say, it's classified."

"Magic. Ngh." Mike shook his head and stepped out of the room
—a single step sufficed, and headed back downstairs.

Maybe he'd wear his knit cap full time until this was over.

The next morning, Bert was across the street, moving furniture.

"I figure I can live here while I fix it up, and then sell it. Do it again, what the heck, people gotta live somewhere, they'll always buy houses. It'll keep me from being bored."

Damien introduced the others as they came out, then they headed down to the docks.

Business wasn't brisk, but the competition was obviously sleeping in. They stayed busy all day and had no trouble at all. But they quit before the early winter sunset.

The next day was warm and all the snow started melting. The roads were a mess and people were everywhere, making up for lost business.

Damien hitched up the bear wagon and headed out—far out this time—to send and receive.

He drove further, to Bleaker Nob, and the farm. Code was happy to have a bit of masculine company. Jeinah rolled her eyes and took two year old Jeffy out for a bit of fresh air.

"I've met all the neighbors, nice people. Country folk are different."

Damien bit his lip. "No criminal gangs. There's always farm work to do, so less pressure for a girl to wind up whoring, or a boy to start stealing.

"Anyhow, I figured I'd take an extra team back with me, I've got plenty of hay, and yours will last longer that way."

"Oh, good . . . umm, Blackie ripped off a shoe and a chunk of hoof. She's not lame, but I don't know if you can get a shoe on her, for work."

They meandered out to the cow shed. The roof was almost too low for the big horses, but the five of them were crowded in, out of the cold breeze. Damien waded in and slipped a halter on the black and white pinto, led her out. "Ouch! Yeah, much more and she'd have really hurt herself."

"I've got the boggy area blocked off now, I think she did it out there."

Damien nodded, looking at the others as they also came out into the light. "Macy's a bit thin, still."

"Yeah. At least Sombrero's packed on the weight since we came."

"Yeah. W
ell, I'll take Sombrero and Frosty. Another couple of months and that hoof of Blackie's will grow out."

In the morning, Damien waved farewell, and took the mares and the messages back to the city.

Unfortunately, there was no way to dig for deeper meaning in the briefs they received. With the elections over, there was more talk about diplomatic relations with the One World. The goal of which was to make sure the One kept to their corner and didn't interfere with Earth.

"I didn't realize we were talking to them at all." Tony muttered.

Mike nodded. "We aren't. We've found a couple of their colony worlds and grabbed info fast, because they can trace our gates and shut them down." He frowned. "Just as well our gate here is so remote."

Allie nodded. "I like this place, but I'd hate to be marooned here."

They turned back to the news digest. There was talk about expediting leasing of transdimensional discoveries, to establish a claim before the One World got there. A distinctly minority opinion about the rights of natives, a single Councilman who advocated ownership only of worlds with no indigenous people. The majority opinion was repeatedly pushed as best for both natives and Earthers.

It made Damien uneasy, considering all the people he'd met, dealt with daily, being treated as if they were squatters on someone else's property. He didn't express that view aloud.

After the public news, there was a brief update from their commander. They had a route now, across a thousand miles of plains, deserts and mountains, to the Indian Ocean, and were bringing in a ship, in pieces. It was designed to fit into the looks of this World's ships, and they expected to have it ready in plenty of time to evacuate if that seemed necessary, or to bring in new people to continue to monitor the One.