Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars (21 page)

Late Summer
1363

Karista, Kingdom of the West

"It just seemed like the most sensible thing to do, at the time. And then three days later . . . it was like I suddenly woke up. I hustled down to the alchemist's, for one of those new potions, and the lady there said it sounded like a spell to her, and I ought to complain to someone."

Lefty nodded. The young woman was beet red with embarrassment, head down and refusing to look at any of the men listening to her.

"I mean, I'm a good girl . . . I mean, I used to be. And, all of a sudden I throw myself on complete strangers? Three of them? Behind the restaurant?" Still a bit of stunned disbelief in her voice.

"You still are a good girl. That sounds very much like a compulsion spell. So we need as exact a description of the three men as you can manage. They may have used magic instead of holding a knife to your throat, or doping your drink, but that doesn't mean it wasn't rape." He ignored the flick of surprise she sent his way. "So, think about the first time you saw them. How tall were they?" He led her carefully through a complete description, taking notes and holding her attention as he listened mentally, catching glimpses of faces, coloring . . . he backed off the emotions—
at least they let her enjoy it, rather than terrorizing her
—and concentrated on points to identify them by, snatches of over heard conversation.

"You saw them enter the restaurant? Could you tell from which direction they'd come? East?"

After he sent her home, he shuffled his notes together and sought out the City Police captain who was in charge of investigating this odd spate of rapes.

"One overlap with the previous trio. It looks like a group of six men, but only two or three of them at each rape. They're hitting restaurants in the nicer middle class areas, in an arc more of less centered in the docks district." Lefty planted himself in front of the city map on the wall. It was stuck all over with little flags. The pink ones for the rapes . . . "They're sweeping across . . . I think I'll prowl down here for a few nights, see if I can spot any of them."

The captain nodded. "Good luck. I've had my fill of patrolmen suddenly taken with a desire to sit down and take a nap for the rest of the evening."

Lefty recced the area in the daylight. There were several small, clean restaurants of the sort the rapists were targeting in a four block area. Their victims varied. Sometimes waitresses, sometimes diners. Usually in their twenties or thirties, sometimes one, sometimes two woman at the same time.

He got a "being followed" itch as he surveyed the alley behind the last restaurant. He stepped back into the busier street, and listened mentally . . . and sighed. One of the Earthers. Not the problem he was looking for today.

Lefty slouched along feeling the Earther follow him. It was a chilly day, an early cool front had swept through last night. Once the sun was down, he'd probably be able to spot five or six comets, closing in for their winter rendezvous. He hunched his shoulders. Comet winters tended to be cold and dry, with late wet springs. This one was starting the chill early. He shivered and decided that perhaps a boat tour out to see the statue of the hopefully dead god Ba'al would be entertaining. The Earther wasn't dressed for the damp freezing breeze common on the islands.

It had been five or six years since he'd learned that he'd been rubbing elbows with the Old Gods. He still wasn't at all sure he believed it.
Especially what they'd said about Ba'al. "Barry" they'd called him. A man they'd known for a thousand years. He wondered what the Earthers would make of the statue.

The only question was whether he'd be able to get back in time to watch the dinner crowd for the rapist suspects. Nil was
blaming it on a "compass" of rogue mages, claiming that wizards wouldn't work together like that. He'd glared at Lefty's mention of the original goat wizards . . .

Lefty
eyed the group ahead of him with interest. They looked like trouble, five of them all balanced forward and ready to spring into motion. A street gang in broad daylight? But they weren't eyeing Lefty, they were looking beyond him. The Earther? This could be interesting. Was the Earther carrying one of those pistols? If so a Gullytown gang was about to regret their choice of victim. His eyes suddenly jumped to the man on the far right. That was one of the rapists, and there was another . . . they were out in force, five of the six.

Lefty tried to consciously listen in as he walked past.
Nothing aloud; the conversation was mental, leaking in the high frequencies.

:: Should mark him, so the rest of them know.::

:: No, they'll catch on as we whittle them down. Let them stew and speculate through the first three.::

:: We should follow him home, get them all at once, neat and clean.::

:: Shut up. This is more fun.::

Magic user
s of some sort. Nasty ones, anticipating a killing. Targeting the Earther.

Old Gods!
Oners. My rapist gang is composed of
Oners
.

Lefty pulled up his shields as he turned. As the group surged toward the hapless Earther, he started throwing stun spells. One man collapsed, then the other four were turning on him, shields up. He tossed a fireball, and winced when it bounced off a shield and arced through the air. Trip and spin bounced. Hiccup got through once. He stepped out into the direct sunlight and pulled power. The gang was pulling knives, and he drew his sword. Lefty put all his power into the shield piercing spell Nil had drilled him on, concentrated it on the point and lunged. The point went through the first man's shield like putty, and straight through his chest.
The Oner dropped as Lefty pulled his sword out. The other three stumbled to a shocked halt, and started throwing spells. Lefty absorbed the light and fire based ones, his physical and mental shields were handling the others, and he stalked forward. Could he get through another shield, or would they throw everything into blocking him?

They broke and ran. There was no sign of the Earther. The smart fellow had left the magic fight to the magicians. Lefty bolted after the trio, throwing trip, sleep and confusion ahead of himself. He collected power and threw an illusion of a wall up just around the corner. The men paused in consternation, then plunged ahead. A wag
on drove out of the street—the Oners must have seen it come through the wall. He let the illusion go. The men were out of sight. Damn. Well, he had the man he'd stunned. He trotted back and check the two bodies. One breathing, one not.

A squad of city g
uards rounded the corner at a trot, and he flagged them down. The officer narrowed his eyes at him. "Seen you around the Palace, haven't I? One of Rufi's men."

"Yep. Looks like we need two stretchers
, or a wagon. I think we'll take them both to intelligence HQ first, for a search."

The sergeant nodded and sent two of his men off to the nearest station. "Hit this one on the head, did you?"

"Something like that."

"His breathing's a bit flighty. I think you cracked his skull."

"Umm. Could be."

The guards returned with a wagon, and the bodies, live and dead were loaded. The intel people were delighted, and gave him an odd look when he insisted on staying, to deal with the wizard when he awoke. The dead one had an intriguing number of strange devices about himself, some quite small. Searching the live one produced much the same and woke him.

Lefty put up a shield between the man and the guards, and the man's glazed eyes turned in his direction. Then they closed and he stopped breathing. His heart had also stopped and nothing they did could revive him.

"Well." Captain Kren looked down at the flaccid body. "A spy with a suicide pill. I wonder where he was from?"

Lefty was frowning. "He attacked a known Earther spy. I think this must be one of the One World people who are getting so cozy with the Amma."

"
Oscar and Bran's weirdos, here in Karista. A One Worlder attacking an Earther spy. Great. However amusing it would be to watch them eliminate each other, I really don't need two packs of cold blooded killers roaming the streets."

Lefty nodded. "I think the Earthers are mostly here for information
, but no doubt they can deal out mayhem at need. I'm going to try a disguise and see if I can find any of them."

They'd been at the Sooty Duck before, so he figured he'd start there. With brown hair, a slightly prominent chin, arched nose and civilian clothes he was given a quick look from behind the bar to assess his ability to pay and likelihood of causing trouble, then served without further ado. He was beginning to worry about how to dispose of his third ale without drinking it when two of the Earthers walked in. The man who'd been following Lefty, and another with an odd fizzy confusion in his surface thoughts that made him very hard to read. Lefty hoped two ales wouldn't interfere with a listening spell, as he tossed the spell toward them.

". . . just folded like he'd been hit with a stunner. I should have stuck around, helped. I could have gotten an inside contact with the native power structure."

"Nyet
, Carl. We have to keep a low profile, stay out of sight and just be regular people."

"I guess. They just came up out of nowhere, all of a sudden. How did they find me? How did they learn to recognize me? Are they watching the house?"

The other man shook his head. "I think we'd have noticed watchers." One of the women who hung around brought sandwiches and ales to the Earther's table, and flirted with them. After she'd left, the other Earther started up again.

"Damien . . . do you believe they have ESP?"

"Never seen any sign of it."

Damien's hard to read thoughts leaked reservations, and Lefty suddenly caught a clear memory.
Eight horsemen, bound somewhere in a hurry, one turning to stare hard at him, then turning away. He took a deep steadying breath as the other man's memory fizzed over again. The man who had turned to study Damien was the same man who had committed suicide just two hours ago.
So I have a good idea of what the Oners look like. Six of them left, possibly more. Now I just have to find them. Too.

"Then how did they make Joe? Joe wouldn't have ever gotten caught ordinarily."

"Yeah. He had too much experience to wind up in the Bay with a cut throat. But there are more of them than just the five that tackled you. We know the Info Team has four people, plus the local Post Head, Usse."

Lefty finished his ale, paid and worked his way out of the close packed tables as the Earthers finished their fast
dinners. They drove off toward the docks, not for their home, but Lefty had a feeling that he no longer needed to follow them.

An hour later, the man he'd passed once in the General's office confirmed that a Damien had claimed to be the cousin of a man named Joe, who'd been found with a cut throat in the bay. He gave Lefty the address.

The General showed bright white teeth and started setting up a way to keep watch on the Earthers. "Now we just need to find these Oners and convince both them and the Earthers that this world isn't worth fighting over and that they should all just go away."

Late Summer
of 1363

Ash, Foothills P
rovince, Kingdom of the West

Late in the year, Rustle started studying the dragon problem.

Her first challenge was finding some representative samples of normal men. There weren't very many in the Valley. But some troops came to town and she volunteered in the kitchen and bussed tables and got tiny samples from their glasses. She didn't need very much. She grabbed some of Nil's, and Rotic
's, Coy's and Weg's, and some from the Auld Wulf and with help from Havi and the Goat Boys she was in business.

Primo had only eighteen things she couldn't find on any of the others. She figured out how to change them from human to dragon and dragon to human, but she was very careful to only do it to a few cells on a slide. She gathered the eighteen alteration operations in a long linked spell, and saved it carefully in a corner of her brain. The True Essence of Dragon. Primo, of course, just needed a few of those fuzzy chemicals knocked off, so the dragon form could reassert itself. The pattern, the lengths of bones and the splitting of some
bones for the wings and so forth, was already there. Suppressed. Easy to knock off.

She rode Inky
into the village, then turned for the hills, looking for something to practice her expertise on. Not an animal, she couldn't do anything to an animal . . . She stopped at the farmers' orchard, pulled a leaf off an apple tree. She turned up hill and spotted just what she needed. An oak sapling at the edge of the forest. She tied Inky in the shade and knelt to study the oak tree. The old dun meandered up and stared as well. "Compare their essences. Where are they different? There's one. To change it, you'd need to swap . . . There's another . . ." She pictured it all in her head. Each individual change. Then strung them together into a single spell and wrapped it around the tree and let it soak in, take effect in millions and millions of cells . . . She opened her eyes. The tree looked the same. "In the spring, if it has really changed, it will have baby apples instead of baby acorns." She grinned triumphantly at the old horse, but staggered weakly when she stood up. "Too much magic, eh?" She pulled power from the Earth and straightened. She could pull any amount of power from the Earth, from gravity, but it could only temporarily replace, not replenish, her body's store of energy. Depleting that store was dangerous. Deadly, even. She shivered, finally feeling the late winter chill. She mounted Inky and headed for the Tavern. A snack was in order.