Meet the Family Page 3

  "Yes. Wolfgang Oldham. And you are?"

  "Rael Withione Montevideo. I . . . The President is concerned, we've gotten rumors that he was badly injured." She slid off Carousel, trying not to wince as her feet took her weight.

  "Yes." Exasperation in the deep voice now. "An amazing number of people want the boy dead. And are perfectly willing to take out any number of innocent bystanders to achieve that."

  Rael sighed. "Yes. At least most of the Oners who want him dead just try to stick him with a sword. May I speak to him?"

  "Umm, don't know that he'll wake up, but come along and see for yourself."

  She flipped the ends of the reins around the rail. :: Stay here, please. And Do Not eat anything! ::

  Then she followed the shadowy figure along the stream through a gap in the hill that opened up quickly to orderly grape vines climbing the hillsides. Ahead a grove of enormous trees. Redwoods, like on the west coast of North America?

  "Yes. That's where I got these, or rather, their progenitors. Coastal redwoods. I wish I'd thought to snag some giant sequoias. Now those were impressive trees."

  Rael tried to tighten her shields further. But there wasn't any tighter. One damn it!

  The building just beyond the redwoods was sleek and modern. The first room was obviously part of a winery. It smelled of fruit and alcohol. Beyond it, a sitting room, with stairs leading up to a second floor. And sitting on the stairs, Xen.

  "I thought I heard you." He looked like he was fighting off sleep. He looked like hell. "Tit for tat? Come to see me at my scarified worst?"

  She thumped down beside him, into his embrace, hiding her face in his shoulder, hugging him back. "Orde sent me. The Newsies are driving him crazy asking if he's heard anything."

  "You, of course, weren't worried at all."

  "Course not." She leaned back and studied him. "What happened?"

  "I ran into a batch of honest-to-god cyborgs. Lasers, bullets, grenades, and finally a flamethrower. It was a bit exciting there, for a bit. I ran like hell. Pretty much the end of the story."

  "Why?"

  "I dunno. They took one look and demanded I surrender. I said sure, take me to your leader, I want to talk to them about cross-dimensional cooperation. They said, sure, once we've got the control chip inserted into your brain. I suggested we discuss this first. They opened fire. In retrospect, trying to keep talking instead of just traveling out wasn't a good idea."

  "Umm, what world was this? Q showed me her map, but why were you there?"

  "I spotted some powered gate activity. Which really worries me now."

  "Oh. Not good. Control chips in brains sounds a bit ominous." She reached over and poked his scalp. "Is your hair going to grow back? I dunno about the spottiness, but being you, you could set a new trend." The patches of untanned skin over his face and shoulder made her queasy.

  How badly injured were you?

  "I may have set a new personal record. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand. "At least I didn't lose any important body parts this time, the fingers are almost healed."

  But not tanned, and the fingernails are still growing back.

  "Well, since I'm awake, I ought to eat. Have you had dinner?"

  "No, and you have no idea how tempted I was by that inn. The aroma!"

  "The local witches preempt the kitchen for informal cooking contests. Unfortunately you're going to get whatever I accidentally order from the kitchen fabber."

  "Accidentally?"

  "Yawning while poking buttons can yield unexpected results." He pried himself off the stairs and led her to a kitchen out of a museum. "It's been bubbled a lot of the intervening time, so it isn't really fourteen centuries old. We use it a lot more, now that we know we can just go and buy a replacement."

  "Grab drinks." Xen's father spoke from behind them. "Rustle's bringing dinner up from the Inn."

  Xen snickered. "Is Rael about to get the whole 'examined by the parents to see if she's suitable' treatment?"

  "Yep."

  ***

  Rustle Neverdaut was a slightly older, female version of Xen, from the curly brown hair to the tan skin. Well, maybe the first impression was misleading. Her blue eyes were bright, her nose straight. Xen had the blue eyes, but as accents in black, like his father's warm brown. And father and son shared the arrogant arch of the nose.

  She handed the sack she was carrying to her husband . . . pet? . . . whatever, while those bright blue eyes studied Rael. "So we finally get to meet the infamous Rael."

  Infamous. The woman who tried to kill your son.

  Rael swallowed, her stomach tightened and suddenly those odors from the sack were almost nauseating instead of delicious. "I, um, am pleased to finally meet you?" She hadn't intended that to come out so . . . fearfully?

  Xen chuckled, and slung an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, they've never eaten a single girlfriend of mine, so far as I know."

  A snort from his father.

  "Okay, they may have tossed a few out the front door . . ."

  A sniff from Rustle. "Those weren't girlfriends. Those were predatory witches. And the Farmer girls! Are strong Oners as attractive to women as strong magicians?"

  "Yes." Rael looked up at Xen. "I thought you were a wizard, not a mage?"

  "I'm both, everything. We use the term magicians for anyone with power. Mages, wizards, witches, and gods." Xen eyed the sack. "So what's for dinner?"

  "Bottomless pit!" Rustle pulled plates out of a cupboard and Wolf opened the bag and started pulling out boxes . . . folded heavy waxed paper containers.

  Xen pulled a chair out of a corner and gestured her into it, sat beside her. "Hopefully I won't fall asleep in my . . . Chicken alfredo. Umm, it's a favorite of mine—depending on who's cooking."

  Wolf grinned. "Some of the younger witches . . . forget ingredients or get creative when they take turns cooking. They have sort of an informal rotation, and pretend it's not a contest."

  "It's how the younger witches earn their pocket money." Rustle filled plates and handed them around. "Or the witches who don't think grubbing around in the mountains is fun. There's an old volcanic area we mine for diamonds, plus garnets in the contact zones, and of course, gold, out in the New Lands."

  "The New Lands . . . that's the desert around your mid-continent spreading ridge, right?" Rael stabbed a bite of chicken . . . garlicky, creamy, cheesy . . . her stomach unknotted and demanded more.

  "Right." Rustle nodded, and looked worriedly at Xen. "I'd say, get Xen to show you the Rip, but he's not . . . quite safe to be around half asleep, like this."

  "I'm awake!"

  "For the next few minutes." The Wolf's smile faded as he looked at Rael. "When we're healing, and in and out of this coma-like state, and in and out of vivid dreams—we cannot tell the difference between dreaming and these brief wakings. The next time he awakens—three or four days his time—he will have to ask us if you really came, or if he just dreamed it. And you really don't want to be near him if, for instance, he dreams that he accidentally hurt you."

  Xen made a protesting noise and swallowed. "Great, now I can have nightmares about that. And anyway, I don't think I'd actually, physically, create injuries dreamed of as accidental . . ." He eyed his father.

  "No, I never have. But Rustle knows to stay away." The Wolf exchanged grins with his wife. "It's especially hazardous, seducing a sleeping god."

  Xen rolled his eyes and looked at Rael. "That's why my genetics are so interesting. Ignore them. They don't seem to realize that old people are supposed to be stodgy. Or at least reticent."

  Rael snickered. "Someday . . . Oh One! Never mind! I don't want to even think about introducing you to my parents!"

  "My reputation. Hmm, could be interesting."

  She could see him fighting off a yawn and getting back to eating.

  Rustle cleared her throat. "Which is why I've gotten you a room down in the Inn, instead of inviting you to stay here. It isn't safe for you to stay here."
/>
  Rael nodded. "Although that sounds like a good way to scare me away."

  "Heh!" Xen looked indignant . . . then blinked and yawned.

  Rustle shook her head. "Rael . . . You are unique in the way Xen's reacting toward you. Physically, emotionally, magically. No caution, no withdrawal, no hardening of his mental shields."

  Wolf nodded. "Welcome to the family."

  Chapter Four

  A Nice Village Inn

  Rael rode down to the Inn in the moonlight, the fat gibbous moon rising over the mountains as she turned away from the winery.

  Xen had managed to eat all his alfredo before he fell asleep, head on the table, and had been manhandled up the stairs.

  His father is not the least bit scary, and his mother's nice, in a rather logical fashion. Much like Q. The whole family is so competent it's . . . the way they just do things, like there's nothing the least bit extraordinary about it . . . it's humbling.

  "The Gods of War, and the witch who invented the permanent dimensional gates. One!"

  Carousel swiveled an ear to show that she was listening.

  "I mean, I knew all these powerful people lived here. People who knew—who were old friends—of the Prophets! I just didn't expect them to be such nice . . . ordinary parents."

  :: His horse is nice too. :: A big sigh. :: Pyrite. He's sort of a stallion. He said it's a spell, so he doesn't act like an idiot all the time. Maybe next month, when I'm in the mood again, I can persuade him to take the spell off. ::

  :: Sure! ::

  Rael spotted the dark horse off to the side. "Hi, Pyrite. I figured you’d be here. Did you get burned? ::

  Irritation. :: No. He said it was a world with cars, and I'd keep him from blending in. ::

  "Sounds like he didn’t do much blending in himself. "

  A snort of agreement, then the big horse faded back into the night.

  Carousel sighed. :: Even his mental voice is strong, and there are others here too. Mares with foals. They didn’t want to get too near me—I’m a stranger. ::

  :: I suspect they’ll get more friendly after you’ve been around for a few days. ::

  Rael turned off the path and into the brick courtyard between the Inn and the stables behind it. The mare's iron shod hoof clopped solidly and a thin figure popped out of the barn.

  Light bloomed as he . . . no, she, lit a lantern.

  "Wow, so you're Xen's girlfriend? That's totally awesome. He just runs from most of the witches." Brown hair, blue eyes.

  Must be related to Xen.

  Rael swung off the mare and the girl took Carousel's reins to lead her toward the stables.

  "Rustle said you'd be staying for several days? Whenever you want your horse, just send one of the brats, excuse me, younger witches who are working here, out to the barn and I'll have her all saddled up and ready to go quick as anything."

  "Thank you, umm . . ."

  "Mink."

  "Mink. I'm Rael, but I guess everyone knows that."

  "Oh yeah." The girl grinned. "You wouldn't believe the reputation you have here."

  The door in the Inn's back wall banged open.

  "Is this her? The Oner who tried to kill Xen?" A girl with long blonde hair, looking younger than Mink.

  "Oooo! It is!" An even younger redhead.

  Mink snorted. "These are the brats I mentioned. Urial's the blonde one, Dogwood's the redhead. Don't mind them, they're only eleven years old."

  "I'm twelve! Doggy's eleven, and you're only thirteen, Minkie Stinkie!"

  Rael cleared her throat. "So . . . are you guys all witches?"

  A chorus of agreement, with Urial chiming in, "Of course none of us have grasped power yet."

  "Shhh! She doesn't need to know that."

  Rael grabbed her saddle bags, and let the younger pair lead her off toward the Inn.

  They started pointing. "That's the privy."

  Oh One! No bathrooms inside!

  "And that's the bath house."

  Private or communal? Eep!

  Dogwood giggled. "Xen's told us about how Oners live. Eww! How can you brush your teeth with the toilet right there?"

  "Ha!" Urial reached for the door handle. "Remember when Uncle Xen made that big granite building? He said he was making it like a Oner hotel, so it was nice and compact."

  “Yeah, yuck!”

  “Umm,” Rael eyed the blonde girl. “He’s your Uncle?”

  “Oh . . . it’s a little more complicated than that. The Auld Wulf is my great grandfather.” She laughed suddenly. “And Mink is—technically—Xen’s aunt.”

  Dogwood shook her head. “I don't think so, I think they're some sort of cousins. I am so glad I’m am not in that ridiculous tangle of relationships.”

  “Ha! Like the Karista Pyramid is so . . . ordinary?”

  Rael eyed the girls and was wondering if she should stay out of it or break up the incipient fist fight, when the Inn door opened, silhouetting a tall figure.

  “Girls?” In frosty tones.

  The girls dropped all aggressive body language instantly.

  Urial cleared her throat. “We were just showing that Oner person where things are.”

  “Rael! Call her Rael!” Dogwood hissed. “Be polite!”

  “Ah yes. The Killer Princess. Do come in.” The figure stepped back, and in the interior light turned into a woman, mature, but not even close to old. A slender blonde. Confident and cool, as she looked Rael over.

  “I’m Particular.”

  What? Oh, those witch names . . .

  “Here’s the key to your room.” Particular gestured up the stairs and pointed. “North wing, first on the left.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You might want to take a bath. You look and smell like you’ve been traveling for days.” The witch strolled away, not even waiting for a response.

  Rael giggled, feeling her lips pulling back into a grin.

  “You think that’s funny?” Urial looked horrified.

  “Oh yes. I know all about Mean Girl verbal battles.. I suppose she’s a relative, too?”

  “Let’s see . . . I think it’s called first cousins once removed? Yeah, her mother is my grandmother’s sister.”

  “I’m going to need a chart. And . . . she’s right about the bath.”

  The privy had flushing toilets, the three bathtubs each had their own tiny cubby with a bolt on the door. And hot pipes. It felt so good after three days on the road that she soaked long enough to be seriously pruney when she dragged herself out.

  She walked back into the Inn, dirty clothes and damp towel over her arm.

  Dogwood and Urial were chatting with two familiar witches. Demoiselle and Egret, fortunately two of the nice witches she'd worked with five years ago.

  They spotted her and waved her over.

  "Long time, no see, Rael." Demoiselle had dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep tanned skin. Along with the good looks and height that in the Empire would have immediately had her recognized as a High Oner.

  Egret was another elegant brunette, not so dark, and with bright blue eyes. She looked over her shoulder. “Girls, come here for a minute.”

  Two of them, a blonde and a brunette. Rael tried to remember how old her niece and nephew had been when they were this size. Seven? Eight?

  “Laurel,” Egret tugged at a blonde curl, “is mine, and Mimosa is Demi’s.”

  Rael sighed a bit wistfully. “Hi. Pleased to . . .” She trailed off at the double frowns.

  “Are you here to kill Xen?” Mimosa glared.

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  Double dubious looks. Demi sighed and waved them away.

  “Well. Welcome to Ash. Sorry about the kids . . . umm, we mostly live on Embassy, these days. So Xen’s a familiar figure. We just came back for the Spring Equinox celebration, we’ll head home tomorrow.”

  “Really? I haven’t seen you at Disco, do you work for your embassy there?”

  “No, we’ve got a pastry shop. Ne
xt time you’re there, stop by, we’re across the street from the Empire Theater.”

  "I will. Not that I get across all that often—and mostly for disasters. At least I'm just here to check up on a one person disaster, not a . . ."

  "Multiworld mass murdering world."

  "Yeah. Although I've got to wonder about these cyborgs Xen encountered."

  "I want to see them!" Urial bounced on her toes, then nodded at the bundle under Rael's arm. "Laundry service?"

  "Yes, please." Rael surrendered her bundle, and sat at Demi's invitational wave.

  "So, how's Xen? Is he finally awake?"

  "Barely awake, for maybe twenty minutes. It looks like the remaining damage is mostly superficial. I've never heard of these cyborgs before, but Xen says he was investigating a powered gate. I wonder if the cyborgs were making the gate—or if Earth or the One was. Darn. I can see that I'll be writing another report."

  Egret nodded. "We don't need aggressive neighbors."

  A snort from Particular as she delivered a teapot and three cups. "If that idiot stopped bringing us to the attention of aggressive polities, we wouldn't wind up in wars with them." She looked down on Rael. "Simply destroying the Empire's and the Earth's gate mechanisms every time they touched us would have kept us safe."

  "And left us helpless in the path of the Helios. We do recognize that you saved us."

  Sniff. "After you attacked us. And letting you come here? An agent of President Orde!"

  Rael blinked. "These wretched names of ours—we've had two President Ordes in a row. The first was the man responsible for the attack. I was part of the One's efforts to remove him from office. The current Orde is doing his best to keep the peace."

  Rael looked down at her cup as Demi poured. "Not that that damned War Party has quit."

  Dubious looks from a number of directions.

  "I am, as you point out, an agent of the Empire of the One. I . . . do not get to pick and choose which orders I carry out . . ." Mostly. Almost always. "Well, I carry out the orders if I’m able to, which rather obviously I sometimes am not."

  A number of glares were aimed her way.

  And from a dark corner, a dry old voice. "Pity."