Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars Page 5

  "Hard to believe they can make enough to live on." Wink scratched his arm.

  "That may be why they rob. I think I need a long hot soak." Ajha strode out for the hotel. Ignoring an itch.

  The Ambassador called them in for new orders. "We're taking an opportunity to worsen relations between the Earth and the Kingdom of the West. Not to mention getting a trio of boats out to sea for trials." He flicked a grin their direction. "So polite, asking no questions while the four of you are fairly quivering with curiosity. One boat, ship I suppose, the Garavette, looks like any other native three-masted sailing ship, although we've worked it over. We've hired a native captain and crew, rescued them from Auralian justice, which, as you've noticed, runs toward enslavement, castration and mines. So they have plenty of reason to be loyal to us.

  "The other boats are modern catamarans. One hull of each can hold a good sized aircar, the other is set up for crew and passengers. We can thus move quickly between Discordia and here. Or wherever we won't raise eyebrows. Such as Asia."

  Idre brightened. "We could land in any of several spots and be within an aircar's striking range of the Earth gate." They all stood to examine the world map the Ambassador had on his wall.

  "Exactly. The second Action Team has taken the local ship around to the Kingdom of the West, to procure some authentic looking evidence in their capital city of Karista. They'll sail back to Panama, and cross over to the Kara Sea. One of the catamarans will pick the team up in Iskandar. Actually, they should be doing that right about now. The other will pick you four up here, and both cats will cross the Atlantic, round the Cape of Africa and sail up to India. In place of the Ganges, there's this deep bight. A high pass through the Himalayas and you'll be in easy striking distance of the Earth gate. You will be under Action Leader Kael's command, assisting them in creating a very authentic looking native raid on the Earthers."

  Egto whistled. "This could be fun."

  The Information Team reported to the catamaran when it docked. The sleek modern craft was getting plenty of attention from the other ships, from the dockworkers . . . The Info team hauled their minimal luggage aboard and the ship sailed on the out going tide. The ship was highly automated, with a three man crew.

  Ajha ran an eye over the accommodations. "You can take close to thirty people at a shot?"

  The captain nodded. "I can move the wall for larger or smaller rooms. Replace the aircar with the other passenger model, and I can carry seventy-five comfortably, double or triple if they sleep in shifts." He peered at his instruments. "The other catamaran is coming up fast behind us. We'll swap out some of the Action Team, then pick up speed and get you lot to the Bight of Ganges in twenty-five days."

  Kael, the female Team Leader, was just as scary as he remembered.

  The Action Team's luggage was a bit . . . odd.

  "Those cold cases." Ajha shivered. "What do they have in them?"

  "They're turned on." Idlo shrugged. "Maybe they've kidnaped some Earthers?"

  "Kidnaped? You mean killed. And froze. Make it look like they went native? Deserted, perhaps?" Ajha's stomach flipped. Thank the One I'm on an Info team!

  Egto hunched his shoulders. "They are a bit coffin shaped, aren't they? I suppose leaving some dead natives behind will make our raid look really authentic."

  "It . . . would be a good idea to drop the speculation." Idlo snapped. "We're Oner's and we follow the orders of our superiors."

  Ajha winced. Yeah, don't get cocky and start thinking you know more than your boss. He ignored the cold flutters in his stomach and followed the others. The cold cases were in a cabin at the rear. The Action leader had an enlarged stateroom midship. In between, a single team of four men had transferred with her, leaving the other three four-man teams and the two subleaders aboard the other Cat.

  The Info Team reported to the Action Leader. Her aide eyed them from the far side of the empty room, but said nothing.

  Kael looked them over and sneered. "Four of you, and you don't coordinate at all."

  Wise straightened. "We're an Info Team, we don't need to . . . " He shut up at a chopping motion of her hand.

  "Stand up, all four of you. Like it or not, you're going to learn, so you aren't a liability in Asia." She produced a knife, and nearly stabbed Idre as he fumbled taking it from her.

  Red faced, he nicked his left wrist and handed the knife to Wink. Wink paled at the sight of his own blood, and passed the knife to Egto.

  Ajha swallowed, took the knife and made a shallow slice. He flinched, but managed to hand the knife back to the Action Leader without, he hoped, of any sign of how faint he felt.

  Their grasps were sticky with already drying blood.

  "Calm your minds. Remember your first meditations. The One is all, all are of the One. Hear each other. Say it together in your minds."

  And that easily, he could hear it. Idre and Wink apprehensive, Egto astonished. Ajha knew he was the least experienced of them, but he hadn't realized how short their lead was. Training and ability-wise. They all had only the most basic training in group magic.

  :: How can you be so strong, Clostuone? ::

  Was that Wnco? He wasn't sure.

  :: I have a double set of the insertions, but they have enough dropped genes, here and there, that I missed having a single complete set of one hundred and eight genes. ::

  That indignant feel was probably Egto. A bit of an insecure feeling. Did Ajha have a higher number of individual genes than the Neartuone? Or did the Neartuone, despite have one full set, lack one or more entire insertions in his second set?

  It didn't matter. All that mattered was the power running through them, leaping and diving wildly as it circled. Stronger than the sum of their abilities. It was beautiful.

  "Humph. Egto and Ajha trade places."

  They all startled, as Kael's voice interrupted their communion. The power they'd raised escaped . . . and was sucked away by the Action leader. The aide sniggered.

  Ajha and Egto swapped, and they grasped hands again.

  This time the power ran faster, more level. Built up stronger.

  For a moment; then it snapped. They staggered apart. Ajha tripped and thumped down on his butt, reeling like a drunk, weak from exertion.

  The Action leader contained the energy, put her hand out to touch the hull, and let it all drain away, absorbed into the vast ocean without a ripple. "Not a bad start. We'll have almost a month to practice before we reach our goal." Kael turned and walked away.

  They practiced every day, after that.

  They didn't ask, and no one bothered to tell the Info team what was in the cold crates. Perhaps they thought it was obvious.

  Perhaps they were right.

  Ajha eyed them, and wondered when his job had slid from hunting down information to delivering disinformation.

  I'd better remember that the natives are the enemy. Even Auralia. We call them an ally, but they are just a tool. We will conquer the natives, and then the whole planet will be subsumed into the Empire. Then we can get rid of the corruption, the criminality, and violence in the street. Install modern water and sewage treatment plants. Then I can start sympathizing with them. For now, I need to remember what the other Action Leader said. They are just animals.

  None the less, he couldn't help but wonder who had been murdered for this bit of misdirection.

  Chapter Nine

  Late Winter 1361

  Asia

  Oscar strolled into the mess area, got a soda and sat close enough to hear the Earther scientists talking over their lunches. He could hold a spell of unnoticeablity for maybe two hours at a time, now. But an illusion to make himself look just like one of these fellows was dead easy, took no ongoing effort and only unraveled after five or six hours. They had to be positively anal about where the men they imitated were, and were careful to choose only the unattached. But the sodas made up for it. The rest of the food was awful. Both here, in the Earther's "science camp" and ten miles north in the "gate camp.
" Guessing from the chit chat he'd overheard, the transdimensional gate interfered with a bunch of the delicate instruments they used here, hence the separate camp. The relative paucity of soldiers here made spying on their scientists much easier.

  ". . . latest triangulation is still showing their Discordia Gate at the Solti's Palace. I don't understand vhy it's so active. Vhat are they doing down there that they couldn't do up in Fascia?"

  Oscar perked right up. They thought these mysterious Oners' Gate was right at the palace? Not that that exactly pinned it down, but it was a lot easier to search a large palace complex than to search one of the largest cities in the World, including the palace complex. He and Bran hadn't accomplished anything in their one brief tour of the southern city. He nudged them a little, mentally. :: Where in Fascia is the Gate?::

  "Oh, I heard through channels that the Oners have built an actual Embassy building in Fascia. That's why the Gate indices changed."

  "Da, you gloated about your information channels last week, remember? You ought to have shared that intercept immediately, not hoarded it until you could lay it out at the meeting."

  "Oh, yeah, like you haven't . . . "

  Oscar finished his drink and sauntered back outside, ducked around a corner and carefully reached to divert light around himself, let it join up on the other side of himself—so to speak, with light coming from all directions. It was one of the most complex spells he'd ever learned, and he could only hold it for a few minutes at a time. Long enough to get a slight rise of land between himself and the Earther's camp. Then he let it go and covered himself with an overall illusion of grass. Much easier. He loped west, the ground climbing, and cut north when he was well clear of the camp. They were careful to never take the same route, never wear away a path the Earther's might decide to follow. Fortunately the early melt and thick dry grass under the mostly melted crust made hiding tracks easy. He hunched into his heavy coat—the wind was still chilly—and stepped from grass tussock to tussock.

  After two months of intensive magic lesson in Ash, he and Bran had been placed under Lieutenant Lebonift's command, and sent to practice their magic spying on the Earthers.

  The Western base was well concealed in a small knot of shallow caves in the side of a deep gully through the native limestone. The overlying layer of harder stone gave them enough of an overhang to come and go from 'room' to 'room' unobserved from above. They could move along the various stream beds, occasionally crossing to another, and get to the maze of tunnels under the Earther's camp at the gate. The Auld Wulf swapped out rotating groups of fifty soldiers every month. Their thankless job was to keep an eye on the two camps, warn the King if there was any sign of a military buildup, and follow anyone who went anywhere. That last was mostly wistful thinking, given the speed of the Earther's vehicles.

  "Hey Invisible Boy. Anything new?" Captain Kendel was both competent and casual, and didn't resent a pair of lieutenants that were independent of his command.

  "I think they're getting bored down in the science camp. Grumpy. Once the scientists found the Oner Gate indications it's been all details and minutiae. Neither of those two Colonels wants to be the first to pull out so they write reams of reports that probably mean nothing what-so-ever." Oscar shrugged. "I get tempted to liven things up for them. Apparently they can tell when there's a witch or wizard in the vicinity, but not a mage."

  "Huh. Handy." Kendel looked around as a patrol meandered down the little gully toward them. "They aren't due back yet."

  "Doesn't look like an emergency, though." Oscar walked out with the Captain, and frowned at the soldiers' guileless smiles. "Or maybe it is." He trotted up the rough staircase to their room. "Bran, rise and shine. Come show off your superior education."

  Bran rolled out of bed and reached for his clothes. "What's up?"

  "A patrol's back early and looking a bit off. Come look them over."

  He stepped out at Kendel's yelp. "What do you mean you just felt like going home?"

  Bran shoved his feet into his boots and followed Oscar out, buttoning his shirt. "Oh yeah, someone fiddled them good." Bran pulled out a knife and nicked his left arm. Dipped his right fingers in the blood and started writing on air. He ended by snapping his bloody fingers in the patrol leader's face.

  The man blinked, then paled as his jaw dropped. He looked around frantically. "There were about two dozen of them, coming up from the south. They had the weirdest clothes, they changed color according to what was around them. We just watched them, but when they got close enough, they knew we were there. The officer, this woman . . . " He shook his head and looked around. "She told us we were happy little soldiers, to forget we had seen them and just take our time and go on home. What the hell!"

  The rest of the group was chiming in as Bran snapped his fingers at them.

  Oscar tapped Kendel's shoulder. "Magicians of some sort, we'll go check them out. Find out how far away they were when detected, and figure out some more remote spots to watch from. I have a nasty suspicion we're about to witness our first encounter between Oners and Earthers."

  They grabbed their packs and a day's worth of field rations and marched.

  Oscar couldn't keep a smirk off his face. "What a shame Lefty is off reporting to Rufi. We'll just have to use our initiative."

  Bran grinned. "Yeah, initiative. Fortunately it's what we're best at."

  They headed due east until they cut the mystery troops' trail.

  "Must be headed for the Earther's Gate Camp. They've already passed up the Science Camp." Bran murmured.

  They both put on illusions of dried grass and snow, pulled in their auras and loped up the trail of trampled grass.

  The strangers were scoping out the Gate Camp. Four of them with some large crates were well to the rear, the others were spread out. Looking at their clumping, Oscar diagnosed four teams of four, a junior officer for each two teams, and the tall spare woman with the hawk nose as the commander. She had a female aide, a bug-eyed young woman with a metal case instead of a weapon. As the light dimmed, he brought up his light wrap spell again and eased in closer. Watched where he put his feet and tried to think like a hummock of grass. And sat down to listen as the teams all pulled back and reported.

  The commander paced, radiating energy and aggression. "We'll attack an hour after full dark. We'll kill a couple of guards, women if they are available, draw them out for a fire fight. The noodles can leave those bodies halfway between here and the Camp, then get out of here. We'll draw back more slowly, then cut and run as if three fatalities intimidated us."

  The four men who'd been to the rear all twitched at the "noodles" comment.

  The aide shifted uncertainly. "What if that native patrol is caught? You zapped them pretty hard."

  "All the better for us, they'll execute them for killing the guards. We've all heard how Earth loves to make an example of resisters, to cow the rest of the natives."

  Oscar and Bran withdrew to beyond a ridge and let all the spells go.

  "Oh my aching head. I hate spells like that. Well, actually I love them, but oh my aching head." Bran flopped onto his back. "So. Our goal is to de-escalate the fight between the Oners and the Earthers, so we don't get squashed flat in the middle of their war. If we warn the Camp about the Oners, that isn't going to happen, is it?"

  "No. But I didn't like that part about killing guards. We don't need the blame for that either." Oscar pondered the possibilities. "Those Oners seem to be sorta magical, but they really depend on their machines. Do you think we can fool them with illusions?"

  "Remove the guards ourselves? Stun them? Then we'd have to have some really solid illusions, or maybe just an implanted memory. How many ways to take out guards are there? Knives and broken necks are the most common, and we both know what those feel like."

  Oscar winced. "Yeah. We'll need to substitute grass lands for the desert and these guards instead of those smelly bandits. Yeah. We can make the memories, but what about implanting them? They'll
have shields, won't they?"

  "Oscar, didn't you get a reading on them? They are covered solid down south, and are wide open in the north. Or in Nil's terms, we can get through easy if we stick to the high frequencies."

  "Oh, good." Oscar peeked over the low roll of the ridge. "They're settling down for dinner. The commander said something about the noodles could drop the bodies . . . have they got some dead bodies in those boxes? And are the noodles the men that were with the boxes? And could noodles translate as anything but an insult?"

  "Could mean something else in another language. They had pretty strong accents, but they were mostly speaking English, a few Arabish words and sentences stuck together funny. Worse than the Auralians. Huh. I can see us being able to understand the Earthers, if our ancestors came from there, but shouldn't these guys speak some weird foreign language?"

  Oscar shrugged. "I'm going to ponder these Gates and Worlds in depth, someday when I'm really bored. Figure out how they fit in with all my history lessons. Right now, I'm going to sleep. Kick me in a couple of hours."

  The Gate Camp guards had fallen into routines, and gotten a bit lazy. Three pairs of soldiers strolled circuits around the camp, two pairs of men, one pair of women.

  "Where's the fun in that?" Bran breathed, as they started shadowing the women.

  "Maybe they let the other guards catch up to them? I'll take the tall one." Oscar closed his eyes and pictured the woman in place of that bandit he'd killed . . . and the smell of grass, her perfume, blood. Better keep that smell separate, in case the Oner was a neck breaker . . . The feel of the knife across the throat, then the blood, the body's struggles so quickly stilled. He shuddered at how easy it was to remember. And neck breaking, that quick leveraged jerk . . . all right. He was ready, and he could see with his inner vision, the odd high frequency spots of the attackers, closing in on the camp. The two forward men lay in wait just off the track the guards had worn in the grass. Two of the men walked by unmolested, then the women. The Oners came up behind them and Oscar reached into the mind of the one closing in on 'his' soldier. He sank right in, feeling the man, wearing him like a suit. They grabbed the woman, left hand over the mouth, right hand with the knife . . . they stopped then. Threw a stun spell on the woman and let her fall. They drove the false memory deep as they crouched to wipe their clean knife on her uniform, sheathed it, and stepped over the body for the next phase of the attack. Oscar pulled loose from the mental contact, and curled in the grass fighting dry heaves. Bran walked over and thumped him. "You aren't supposed to go that deep, twit."