Wine of the Gods 4: Explorers (36 page)

I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.

Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’ve just celebrated our thirty-third anniversary.

My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I "retired" to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and worked as the treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush, unsolicited manuscripts, for Baen Books (Mom? Someone is
paying
you to read??!!)

I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.

Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

Wine of the Gods Series:

Outcasts and Gods

Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)

The Black Goats

Explorers

Spy Wars

Comet Fall

A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)

Dark Lady

Growing Up Magic (Four Stories)

Short Stories:

Fancy Farmer

Lawyers of Mars

Lost Boy

Mall Santa

Excerpt from an Upcoming Release

The God of Assassins

Chapter One

Mid Winter 1393

Karista, Kingdom of the West

Captain Prince Staven Negue drug his mind back from the tick of hard snow against the windows, and shook his head at his Uncle Fossi's latest plan to corral the Crown Prince's heir.

My baby brother.

I remember how happy Father was, the day he was born.

Now he just looks tired. So does everyone else. Grandfather—King Leeno— and Uncle Rufi—who is his Spear. The other nations laugh at our two headed arrangement, but Leeno and Rufi support each other and act as a check on each other's power. As Fossi with the Army will both support and limit Rolo when he takes the throne. And here I am. Rebo's spear prince. Old Gods help me!

He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

"I guess I'm going to have to be the one to say it. Rebo is not, and in my opinion, never will be, fit to rule the kingdom. I move we summon the Head of the Council and request that he be formally removed from the succession."

"But . . . " Crown Prince Rolo, his father and Rebo's, looked away, a sheen of tears in his eyes.

The king shut his eyes; a vertical line of pain creased his forehead.

Fossi met Staven's eyes. "That means removing you as well."

"And I don't have any more sons."  Rolo scowled at him, anger in his voice. "You can't do this to yourself!"

The king lifted a hand. "Staven can be reinstated. Garit is a year and a half younger, if he was named your crown heir, Staven would be the obvious choice for his Spear."

Rolo was shaking his head. "We can't pass over Mirk . . . who, frankly would be a much better administrator than Garit. He already is."

"Mirk is forty-two. We'd have to find some distant cousin older than him who is in the army, to be his military leader." The king exchanged glances with Rufi.

Rufi shrugged. "Benni's got three or four grandsons who'd qualify. Kersh's sons . . . are a bit old." He shrugged ruefully. "All right, so they are younger than I am. Neither of them are in the army. Pity Fidel's younger boy is so young, he's a fire eater."

Fossi grinned suddenly. "How about Franki?"

"Too young, thank the gods." The old king couldn't suppress a smile, but it was brief. "Well. The only thing  I'm not hearing is support for Rebo." He looked around the table, nodded. "Let's make it formal. All in favor of requesting the Council to remove Rebo from the succession?"

Five raised hands.
Even father knows it has to be done.

"Very well. I will ask the Head of the Council to attend on me and break the news."

***

Staven looked at the note and cussed. "Oh damn it, Rebo. Couldn't you behave for just another week?" He glanced over at the page, bouncing on his heels, and no doubt word Staven's exasperation with his brother would be all over the palace within the hour. "Fetch my horse, side door." The boy ran off and Staven headed for his wardrobe. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the general direction of his trash can. "Join me for dinner and entertainment? Old Gods know what he considers entertainment." He shut his mouth. Military Officers were not supposed to walk around muttering. Definitely civilian clothes for someplace out in the New Lands.

Staven spotted his little brother, apparently waiting for him at the main entrance to the . . . Edge of the World. He swung down and handed his reins to the stable boy and stalked over to the insufferable brat.

"Huh. Thought I'd get the Bastard, but you'll do." Rebo turned and walked through the open doors.

Lord Keith was waiting inside, and someone or ones were disappearing through a door across the lobby.

He was glad to see that the place was tastefully furnished, tapestries on the walls, and an appetizing odor coming from the kitchens. He relaxed a bit. "Someone has good tastes."

Lord Keith sniffed. "Like I told Rebo, these women can cook, and they know how a man likes to be entertained, too."

Stave gave Keith a dubious look. 
Not the worst of Rebo's pals. Unfortunately, Rebo hasn't got any "best."
No guards in sight, of course.
I ought to have notified someone.

Rebo sneered. "You're what? Twenty-five years of age and already a confirmed old stick. You're going to be just like our mutual half-great-uncle. Who is seventy-three years old and never married. Huh. Maybe he likes boys."

Staven ground his teeth.
So much for the nice décor. I'm being set up for something. Hopefully just being left holding the bill.
Rebo's allowance was minimal, as his father tried to make him pay for past indiscretions. He'd been supporting eight bastard children since a bit before his fifteenth birthday.  And complaining bitterly about it every month.

He was about to get another shock.

Staven eyed him.
Best I let him enjoy tonight. Maybe even tomorrow. Because as soon as we get back to Karista . . . Well. Grandfather has to talk to the Head of the Council. Officially. From the Throne, in full public view. Everyone will know, by the day after tomorrow, that the king will be disinheriting him.
"Well, let's see what sort of entertainment you're going to inflict on me."

Rebo turned and headed for the doorway arch to the left, where a devastatingly beautiful woman waited. Smiling her welcome, she led them into the dining room, and seated them in a private nook with a good view of the stage.

The whole back wall of the room was windowed, looking out over a drop to badlands that vanished into mists. It did, in fact, look very much like the edge of the world. Staven told himself it was just fog from hotsprings down below. Certainly he'd seen the Rip a few times in his nine years in the Army. The geologists at the college claimed the Rip was a "mid-continent spreading ridge." His Uncle Day had nodded as if it weren't news to him, and Staven believed the old Traveler, however unlikely it sounded.

Quiet flute music danced around in the background as beautiful women came and went with wine, bread and cheese, a delicate fish dish, an ice, something the waitress swore was a giant lizard that lived here abouts, and fresh vegetables, steamed with a delicate sauce, and then medallions of wild bison.

As the dishes came and went, dancers on the stage did likewise. Tasteful, yet very, very erotic. As the sun set, the foggy landscape behind them yellowed, reddened, darkened.

The red wine that came with the bison was incredible. He reeled back in his seat and grabbed the arms . . . but couldn't decide if he was keeping himself from falling out of the chair or from throwing himself at the incredible dancer who was floating their way.

Rebo snickered. "You get used to it."

He and Keith swapped grins. "Gotta find the privy, be right back."

"Yeah, me too." Keith was close on his heels.

The lights dimmed, and a feminine form slunk up to him.

He vaguely heard Rebo as the two walked off. "C'mon, let's see if there's any action in the hot springs."

The dancer ran fingers up his arm, and he hoped Rebo wasn't planning on coming back too soon.

***

The dining alcove had curtains. Cushions.

The dancer knew just what to do to please him. She was
incredible.

And finally they walked out to cool off a bit. Staven felt dreamy, could barely feel the ground under his heels. Even sounds were muffled. Red Devil neighing, thumps that might be him, or some other horse kicking the stall walls . . . "Devil doesn't kick . . . " Staven lifted his tired head and looked vaguely toward a barn  . . . but the dancer leaned against him and urged him onward. Even with no moon, the path was clear in the brilliant starlight.

"The view is so romantic, look up, at all the stars."

Staven blinked at the edge of the cliff. Not really an abrupt drop, more a steep giants' staircase. Human sized steps off to the left. He looked up. The sky was clear of the foggy mists, filled with stars, the milky way stretched overhead.

And he was falling.

She pushed me.

All vagueness fled as he hit the first ledge down, rolled, was rolled over the next. He hit. Was ready this time for the light footfalls and grabbed for the woman, but she laughed and dodged. He was so slow . . . couldn't seem to stand . . .

Drugged.

She kicked and he slid off the next ledge.

He threw a hand out to break his fall. A shooting pain. And she was there again.

Must be a ladder, somewhere. Or stairs.

She kicked him and he scrambled to grab the lip . . . went feet first this time. Hit and rolled like he'd been taught to fall off a horse. He staggered, turned to face the woman as she floated down steps to the left.

"Hey! What are you doing!" An alarmed male voice, echoing up out of the steamy mist.

"Rebo?" Staven spun, was hit broadside and stumbled forward over the next drop. Crashed, rolled.

Saw two men standing a few feet away. Even in the dark the shape, the stance . . . the other man pushed Rebo and he dropped from sight. Yelling. Splashing. Anger turning abruptly to fear and pain. Screaming.

Staven staggered to his feet, rushed the man, skidded to a halt at the edge as the dark figure dodged. Ten feet down, in a confused dark mist, Rebo screamed, splashing, some huge something heaved up, briefly clear. The armored head and long toothy mouth shown clear. The jaws opened.

Staven was reaching for his knife when he was shoved from the rear. He landed on the giant lizard, rolled off into shallow water, scrambled away, drawing his belt knife. The short blade was more of a tool than a weapon.  One foot sank deep and he reversed course.

Get out of the water!

"Rebo! Rebo?"