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  Scar sniffed. “The resignations are definitely suspicious. Especially the ones who went straight from the office to their doctors.”

  Urfa nodded. “Nothing more now for twelve hours. But some poisons have a lot of lead time. This is a really unsavory way to unravel a conspiracy.”

  “I really am a bit uneasy with the One’s control by assassination.” The President drummed his fingers on the conference room table. His Princess, Qayg, was in Makkah, suggesting to the One that leaving matters to the more ordinary justice system might be worth consideration. People who grumbled that the president’s princess was more of an ally than a check on his actions were absolutely correct.

  Urfa nodded. “And One help me, it was the Isolationists this time.”

  Idlo grimaced. “Definitely sent a message. I doubt, though, that the Council’s going to let the Ministry of Foreign Affairs become a Presidential Department.”

  At the head of the table Orde nodded. “But I think they’ll be less inclined to not consult with me about our foreign policy before they try something so damned stupid again.”

  “We all hope.” Urfa glanced at his agenda. “So, next item . . . the Granite Peak traitors. The Exterior agents, and the civilians who committed treason, but did not murder or rape anyone, while they were sentenced to death for treason, received a three year stay of execution at the request of,” he eyed the president with disfavor, “someone who thought ninety-two executions were enough and asked for clemency for the rest of the traitors.”

  “Nearly a hundred deaths was a horrible shock to the External Relations Directorate. Over two hundred might have destroyed it.”

  Urfa grunted. “Unless the One decides to kill them after all, they will start being released in another year. We need a plan in place before the insanity of the election takes off in eight months. So what the hell are we going to do with them?”

  Orde scowled. “As they wished to leave the One, I’m tempted to just toss them through a gate to one of the Evacuation Worlds and wave goodbye. Unfortunately that means it would devolve into a 99% male hellhole, and if someone—the Combat gang or those smugglers—found them, we could find ourselves with a really brutal gang roaming the Multiverse.”

  Rael wrinkled her nose. “And we could throw Updo through after them. More realistically, I suppose you could allow families to join them, and come and go—just the traitors not allowed to return.”

  Feol sniffed. “It’d still be a hell hole. I doubt it’s possible to find someone to appoint as governor who could whip them into responsible behavior.”

  Rael started to nod . . . paused. Caught the President’s gaze as his own brows rose.

  “Agni.” They spoke together.

  Urfa winced. “Well . . . yeah, but . . .”

  “I don’t think he’d turn them into an army.” The President pulled out his comm. “I’ll ask him.

  “Oh, and Rael, Ambassador Never knows what happened to the ministry people, but will you go inform Disco, and if Xen’s not back, go tell him about it.” A flash of a grin from the President. “Let him know he really was here.”

  Rael didn’t even try to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice. “Yes, Sir!”

  Epilogue

  “Huh, so the One cleaned up its own mess.”

  Rael eyed the man, flat on his back in the grass, on the crest of the hill behind the Disco building.

  “Tried to prevent it, apparently. The man we think was leading the clique died in a car crash about two hours before the cut-out handed the instructions to the blind errand runner. We think Agta—the cut off—must have received the packet about noon, handed it to Onion, who took it straight to where the note said to take it. The hit man left immediately, with what looked like a legitimate reassignment.”

  Rael shook her head. “He was not popular. Everyone in the office was delighted. Then horrified when they heard the news about the subminister’s car accident. Just an hour or two difference and nothing would have happened. Nothing else.”

  Rael looked north, where Carousel was meeting a whole bunch of smart horses. When she spotted Xen up on the hill and joined him, the mare had been running and bucking and dancing with the other horses in the sheer joy of having found people like her. Now they’d all settled down and were grazing their way closer to the humans.

  Rael had known as soon as she’d driven through the gate that Xen was back. Some odd . . . magical effect? Perhaps something like the One, but subdued . . . sort of?

  But the Master of the Multiverse was home again.

  She sat down beside him and stroked his scalp. “At least it looks like a buzz cut. It was weird, when you were summoned to One World, you had that straightened, streaked gigolo cut.”

  “Hey! I was never a . . . kept man.” He was smirking, and leaking a happy glow.

  “Boy toy.” Rael suspected she was leaking glow as well.

  “Spy. Very clever spy.” He propped himself up to look at her eye-to-eye. “Rael . . . when I’m healing like that . . . I can’t tell dream from reality. Did you really come to Ash?”

  Rael giggled. “Oh, the temptation to lead you astray . . . but eventually you’d wonder how my horse got into your parent’s stable.”

  “Oh. Thought I dreamed that, too. I didn’t see her after I’d really woken up. Then Py let her out of his bubbled stable, right before you got here.”

  “Ooo! He snuck his new girlfriend home?” Rael giggled. “Yes. I came to Ash. Met your parents, your aunts, all the witches, including Answer. I met Nil, and you showed me Rip Crossing. Then I was invited to meet the Crown and Spear, and all the . . . mess blew up over lunch.”

  “Oh good. Because I had the weirdest dreams, and wondered if you’d been there at all. You didn’t arrive in a hot air balloon, did you?”

  Rael giggled and shook her head.

  “Good, because you fell out. In one dream I altered a couple of your longevity genes to the best versions.” He reached and touched her face. “Oh good. You already have the best ones, so I needn’t worry about ever doing that.”

  “Xen! Honestly, are genetics really that easy for you?” Oh . . . “Mine forever” you said. But were you reading my genes, or changing them? And do I really want to know?

  “The artificial longevity genes are my specialty. Our Elixir of Long Life? That was my doctoral project. I made versions for humans, dogs, and horses. So if Carousel wants, she can be young and longer lived than any normal horse.” He eyed her. “You do know . . .”

  “That she’s a Smart Horse, a person, not property? I sure do.”

  Yeah, let’s talk about horses, not people!

  “Good.” He flopped back in the grass.

  “I don’t ride very often, now that Paer’s off on her own. I doubt I’ll need a horse very often. But I thought I’d ask her, and then ask you for a bubble stable. But I suspect she’ll want to stay here.”

  “Oh, I’ll make you the stable, then you can ask her to come along anytime you think you might need a good horse, and she can stay here whenever she wants.”

  A snort of agreement. Carousel walked up, nodding. :: I’m a working horse, not the broodmare type. :: She looked around at Pyrite. :: Well . . . maybe one foal . . . ::

  Rael giggled. “As you wish. I’ll see about an import permit, or perhaps a visitor’s pass, and then show you my world.”

  Excerpt from an upcoming release

  Arno eyed the crowd. Eleven half-brothers. Fourteen half-sisters.

  The children of Xen Wolfson. Including me and Ryol.

  Mother should have told us. Warned us about who—what—our biofather was.

  "Hey, it's my two favorite brats." Cheerful, breezy and familiar tones.

  "Aunt Rael! " Ryol squeaked and threw herself on the speaker for a hug.

  Arno got swept into a hug as well. And got the usual big zing of a close relative not touched for some time.

  "So, you guys are getting some special training, eh?"

  "Or studied like bugs under
a lens." Arno couldn't help but relax. His aunt was a hair above average in height, a bit on the skinny side, but with muscles. Short red hair gelled up into spikes. And a happy twinkle in her eyes. And a reputation that took second place to none. She was the Rael Withione. And wearing her uniform. She must have come straight from work.

  "Ha! They must not have said it yet. They hope you lot can make magic gates and teleport. Of course, they haven't the faintest idea how to even start training you. I may have to make the ultimate sacrifice and go bat my eyelashes at Xen and ask him to work with you guys." She grinned.

  Every kid within hearing shut up suddenly. Lots of wide-eyed gawps.

  Ryol gawped. "Magic gates! Like Endi made? Makes? I mean, Xen. I mean . . . Captain Wolfson? Is that really his rank? Why?"

  Rael snickered. "That's his rank in the Army of the West. Disco doesn't bother much with rank. He says 'Master of the Mulitverse' and only about half the people listening laugh at him. They kept switching Directors, until everyone realized that Xen and Q just want someone to do the paperwork and argue with diplomats while they have fun exploring new worlds and beating up armies. Neither one of them takes orders worth beans, but wave a challenge in their faces and you can't stop them."

  "Whoa! Do you see him often?" Ryol's eye widened.

  "Oh, maybe once or twice a year. I'm mostly busy with other stuff."

  Arno eyed her. "Does the External Directorate pull you in when they want Captain Wolfson distracted?"

  Her toothy grin widened. "Why, Arno, how could you think such a thing?"

  "That's what everyone says."

  "What do you mean, everyone. You live halfway around the world from anyone involved with any of that stuff."

  Ryol rolled her eyes. "We chat on the grid all the time. And everyone knows we're your family so we hear all the gossip about you. And half of it involves him."

  "Oh, One! There goes my reputation." All bubbly and silly—fourteen years ago, she'd thrown herself between the President and an assassin and nearly died. She still worked for the Presidential Directorate, and Arno'd seen a vid where she took out a trio of big beefy guys who'd gotten through a barricade and too close to the President.

  Of course, what she was really famous for was the rumored romance with Endi . . . Xen Wolfson. A real romance, not the seduction-as-a-Game-Play.

  They laughed at her, and steered her over to get drinks—all non-alcoholic but she didn't seem to mind. And munchies.

  Various of the staff wandered by to meet or greet Rael. About half of them seemed to know her. Arno drifted apart to the boys he'd met, who were suitably impressed.

  Arno finally sidled up to the medic's station for a cheek scraping, and a quick scan. Ryol followed.

  "You two look pretty unenthusiastic. Why don't you walk me out to my car?" Rael led them out a side door. "Actually, you look a bit overwhelmed."

  Arno sighed. "Mom never told us. I mean, we knew Dad was our stepfather, no zing, you know?" He eyed her . . . should he ask?

  "Ask what?" Rael grinned. "Your thoughts are starting to get really loud. I'll have to come by and give you some shielding lessons. So, ask. Get it out of your system."

  Arno swallowed. "I do realize that it's variable, and weakens with regular repeats and all that . . . but I've always gotten a bigger zing from you than from Mom. Are you our biomom?"

  Children of a Foreign God coming in 2019

  About the Author

  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’re coming up on our thirty-ninth 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 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 (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.

  I’ve got a short story in the Directorate series coming up, as well as a novel—Scrambled—to get out before Christmas. And for the first half of 2019, two shorts and two novels in the main Wine of the Gods Series.

  I also have some unrelated work in progress . . . The first Marshal to the wild frontier of the Asteroid Belt, and an orphaned werewolf raised by very nice (and very tolerant) foster parents who goes off to seek his blood relatives—and might live to regret it.

  Email [email protected] to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases, or follow me on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pam.uphoff

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Wine of the Gods Series:

  Outcasts and Gods

  Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)

  The Black Goats

  Explorers

  Spy Wars

  One Alone

  Comet Fall

  A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)

  Dark Lady

  Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)

  Young Warriors

  God of Assassins

  Heirs of Crown and Spear

  The Fiend

  Empire of the One

  Warriors of the One

  Dancer

  Earth Gate

  Mages at Large

  Art Theft

  Triplets

  Sea Wolves

  Bad Karma

  Dark Side of the Moon

  Cascades

  Olympian

  Embassy

  Rael

  On the Run

  God of the Sun

  Cannibal World

  No Confidence

  Pure Poison

  Flying

  Last Merge

  Nowhere Man

  Black Point Clan

  External Relations

  Mall Santa

  Saturday Night

  The Directorate Series:

  Directorate School

  A Tale of Three Interns

  Trouble in Paradise

  First Posting

  Surveillance

  Fort Dinosaur

  Shadow Zone

  Project Dystopia

  Fractured Loyalties

  Cooking Hot

  The Boy

  The Lawyers of Mars

  Fancy Free

  Time Loop

  In the Rift

  Writing as Zoey Ivers

  YA Cyberpunk Adventures:

  The Barton Street Gym

  Chicago

  Atlantis+

  Fantasy:

  Demi God