Comet Fall (Wine of the Gods) (5 page)

Rustle quietly thanked the old gods for a mother with common sense, and held still while Aunt Fussy finished her makeup.

"What do you talk to these people about? 'My, how bricky your city is!'" Rustle scowled. "What do the women do? Everything I read says they sit about being pretty."

Lady Florence sighed loudly. "They manage these over-decorated ba
rns, as you call their mansions. They oversee the staff and plan ahead for the household expenses and they build a social support structure that can influence their husband's prestige. They don't need income, their husbands provide for them. I know your customs are different in Ash, but I'm sure we can find you a husband of substance so you won't need to go tromping in the wilds and making magic any more."

It was Rustle's turn to sigh. Walking the mountains,
forested or bare rock were among the pleasures of life. A witch's affinity for the Earth made finding and manipulating metals and precious stones easy, so once she had advanced, she could combine pleasure with skill and make a comfortable living. Subjectively, Rustle understood the richness of their garb, and their jewelry. But the truth was, they made it all. From herding Nil's sheep, through shearing, they had always had the best wool to work with. Although from what the Auld Wulf had said, it might not, technically, be wool. Which might explain the prices Nil got for it. They had bought some of the ribbons, but had not otherwise paid for what they were able to do themselves.

"Lady Florence, we get a get deal of pleasure and pride in being
independent. We do not allow men to own or control us." Never sounded a bit miffed, and Rustle wondered if her mother was as tired of Aunt Fussy as she was.

"Rustle, they'll ask all sorts of questions about witches. Just be perfectly honest. If they are shocked, they won't bother you again," Never snorted. "The funny ones are the ones that can't believe a witch is a virgin. Silly of them. Stand up now, and let's get a look at you."

A summer and fall of increasingly frequent practice allowed Rustle to stand, walk and turn gracefully. The sweeping skirts with the bare minimum of petticoats barely touched the floor.  Aunt Fussy had insisted on just a few pieces of jewelry, for modesty, with the most valuable stones, probably to increase her meat market value.

"Excellent. Now, stand there and don't touch your face, while I fix up Lady Never."

Rustle managed to keep her face straight, and watched in delight while her own torture was repeated on Never.

Leppie got off easy, a touch of powder and lip tint "suitable for a young girl."

Lady Florence rechecked her own appearance, nodded and led the trio of reluctant women out.

The
General was just entering the foyer from the other side, and beamed at them. "Ready to overwhelm the men of Western?"

"Ready," Never shook her head. "Although I think you are optimistic. We're more
likely to scandalize—again—than overwhelm."

"Politics, my dear. The people, especially the government and military, need to become familiar with magic users again.
However much I enjoy your company, an unrepentant family of witches is exactly what this group needs to meet. All the young officers we've rounded up for the Winter School will be here tonight. Talk to them. They need to know about witches."

Rustle nodded. She and her mother had had a long chat. They'd recognized the political n
ature that underlay
everything
in the city.

The butler threw open the door as the
General's large carriage came to a halt, a nice bit of choreography. Rustle followed her mother into the carriage.

"As you know, we're in a three way
power struggle. Well short of war, at the moment, but things tend to blow up fast when one side has made the decision to go to war. The Auralians are flocking to the God of Peace. The things he's saying to them make me wish for the day when I only had to worry about Ba'al. He's started more of a political party than a religion, although it's a bit difficult to see the difference. They had a bit of a setback some years ago, the God of War showed up and sent him packing. But they've started probing the southern border again. The Veronians are, well. The God of Love." He shrugged. "A country wide orgy once a year, and a population explosion are doing odd things to that society. They're starting to look toward the New Lands too. I hate to say it, but Scoone is looking like a responsible, reasonable neighbor."

"I heard they've stopped burning our emissaries." Never kept a straight face.

The General snorted, "Yes, finally. They still won't have anything to do with the New Lands, so that's all to the good. The exploration of the Old World is going slowly. We've found sealed and protected buildings, and we're hoping for books, libraries, universities. I've been thinking about trying to get Nil to come with us, take a look and see if he can pry open the seals."

Never nodded. "Mention the prospect of old books, and you probably won't be able to get rid of him."

Rustle brightened. "Do you need some witches along?"

Never snorted. "Most likely he'd prefer some older, more experienced magic users, Dear?"

Rustle scowled.

The carriage rattled to a halt. The
General's house was adjacent to the Royal Palace. The ride was simply to circle the grounds and make an entrance.

It was indeed an entrance. Someone had been checking the proper titles for Witches, and so they were announced as "Sister of the Full Moon Lady Never
Happydaut," "Sister of the Crescent Moon Lady Rustle Neverdaut," and "Sister of the Crescent Moon Lady Leopardite Happydaut."

"Lad
y?" Never murmured to the General.

"I insisted, and Father agreed."

No one argued with the venerable King Rebo. 

"Lady it is."

Rustle spotted a few familiar faces; the King's mage visited Ash regularly, and a lot of army officers had passed through. The General, with Never on his arm and Rustle and Leppie following, led them to the central dais, and King Rebo.

"Never, what a pleasure to see you again." King Rebo was finally showing his age, musculature gone stringy and thin, but his back was straight and his voice clear. "Rustle. Leopardite. You've never met the rest of the family."

And they were all there.

Gene
ral Rufi's brother, Crown Prince Leano, and his wife Nez, with their two sons and four daughters. Aged nineteen through a baby in a nurse's arms, they looked to be expecting another child. There were cousins and nieces and nephews whose names Rustle immediately forgot, and another familiar face.

Her mother beamed at one of the uniformed men.
"Well, well.
Captain
Fitzroy! How are you Fossi?"

Rustle
recognized him from his rare visits to Ash. One of Harry's orphans, Crown Prince Leano's bastard son.

"Never! Long time and all that." H
is eyes took in her trail of young women. "Old Gods! Now that makes me feel old! You with a grown child!"

Never laughed. "And how are you doing? Last I heard you were still following in the General's footsteps, a confirmed bachelor?"

"Only sensible thing to do, when in the Army," he smiled. "Although, I'm finally at a rank where I can start thinking about such things. At the moment I'm teaching in the Winter college. C'mon, I'll introduce you and your girls to some of the younger set."

They were apparently a good enough excuse to let Fossi escape the family tableau. Being illegitimate, their quick appearance had been all that was required of them.

Fossi led them to a defensive looking group of men in uniform. "They get flack for not being nobles, some of them. The few nobles get flack for being useful."

One man stood out amongst the group. Taller t
han the rest, with hair so bright a gold she nearly expected to feel the heat when she shook hands with him. "Lieutenant Cuffeson, a pleasure." So amusing that someone with such hair would be named Gre.

"Thank you Miss, er, Lady Rustle." A soft high childish voice that reminded her of her half brother. The young man's nervous gaze swept over the witches, and he hastily dropped her hand. Leppie was nearly breathless over him.

Then the music started, and Aunt Fussy appeared to take Leppie home.

At some point the younger set had demonstrated sufficient respect for the elder, that they were then allowed to join the dancing.

Fossi led Never off and Rustle was mobbed with apparent admirers and quickly filled her dance card.

She ignored the snide remarks of the city girls. Like mother had said, she didn't actually want any of these fellows. They were flat, to her mental senses. And rude. Although only one to the point that she kneed him. The last few fellows begged off, and she retreated, relieved.

1369 Winter

Karista

Rustle tried to talk to the local girls her age. They were less than welcoming. She was quickly reduced to rather tame rides in the parks scattered around the city as the only entertainment. The only excitement was afforded by the young men acting like idiots. "Chasing" and "capturing" the girls, who apparently wanted to be captured. Which was even more irritating than the girls' gossip.

It was almost a relief to get snowed in for a couple of days, playing cards and reading by a toasty fire.

Then King Leano's Birthday bash. A lot of the country Lords came in for it, as well as all the Dukes and Governors. Well, one Governor. Their own Foothills Province had never taken to the idea of nobility. "Lord" Harry Traveler and Lady Gisele Health attended, and assured the concerned King and General that the Auld Wulf was recuperating. Governor Newry attached himself to them, fended off the few Lords who had trouble believing a woman could be the Land Grant Holder of a section all by herself, without a husband. Rustle looked on, hoping for a toad transformation or two, but Lady Gisele just looked amused. And managed to stay firmly in her Matron aspect.

Rustle managed to
affront an entirely new group of "gentlemen" and left early with considerable relief.

T
hey were back to riding in the frozen park between the Palace and the Council Hall as soon as the snow was cleared from the paths.

The Young Bloods must have missed their game
s, they came tearing down the hill with faint regard for their horses legs, and this time when Rustle left them behind some of them still pursued.

She galloped on a loose rein, sticking to the sanded paths where the chances of a bad spill on ice were lessened. Junk lifted her head into the crisp wind and stretched out, delighting in speed, rounding the curve . . . Rustle had one long moment of horrified realization as Junk hit the rope stretched across the path and she tried to tuck and save her head . . .

She came back to awareness of a piercing pain in her head, and another in her crotch. She couldn't breath, gasping as the big weight on her body shoved forward and back on her. A man.

Damn missed my ow
n deflowering there, somewhere
, she thought in a rather academic analysis through the daze and pain. She felt the power flowing out of her and into the man, but with her bare buttocks on the ground she pulled in more power. Could she get enough to kill him? He yelled triumphantly and shoved into her, the power sloshing back into her.
Channel
. She reached for Earth again, and this time sent the power back to the world. But not all of it. She kept her own reserves full while she drained the man until he rolled off of her. He collapsed and the other men laughed and crowded in. She sucked power out of the first one to touch her down there, but not fast enough to stop him. She pulled in more from the Earth and sent it into him, more and more, all she could handle. She wrapped up her pain and anger and threw it into him, and he cried out and shoved away from her, frantically. She turned the power on one of the men holding her arms spread out, and as he yelled and let go she rolled to hit the man on the other side. She was shoved face down into the frozen ground and another man mounted her from the rear. She was getting disoriented from the power flows, and tried to hold onto power, to anchor herself and see what she needed to do. The man came, and this time she channeled it all. She sent it around her, didn't let it touch her, drained him dry. He collapsed on top of her.