Read Online Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars by Pam Uphoff - Free Book Online
Authors: Pam Uphoff
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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 speaki ng 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 th e 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."
Oscar took a couple of carefully controlled breaths. "Your lady guard all right?"
"Just fine. Let's back out of here, now." They slipped into their unnoticeable spells and jogged away.
The noodles were tipping three bodies out of their boxes. Oscar got close enough to feel the cold from the open container. Had they frozen the bodies to keep them from decaying? He got a good look at each man. They were all in Western uniforms, showing a bit of wear, no one he kne w. Little holes in the uniforms, not a lot of blood, as if they'd died quickly.
:: What the heck? Stiletto? Arrows with a simple point? Bran, do you have any idea what sort of wounds those 'guns' of theirs make? ::
:: No idea. But I'll bet you're onto something. They'd have to use a gun, if they want to fool the Earthers. ::
As the noodles withdrew, Oscar searched the bodies and removed the few papers on the corpses. Then he galloped after Bran, getting over a roll in the terrain so he could let the spell go before his head exploded. The alarm sounded below; the Oners charged out of the large central building and through the lighted area with swords raised. The first troops out ducked away, pulling pistols. The Oners got around the corner of a building and ran. Some soldiers blocked them and fell quickly, without a hand touching them. Then the Oners were racing into the dark with only a few flashes of light, and some triplet bangs from the long guns pursuing them. The Earthers wisely decided not to chase the attackers out into the dark hills, at least on foot. Engines were starting back in the camp.
Oscar and Bran hid up on the hill until they were satisfied the Earthers had suffered no casualties apart from
"Could mean something else in another language. They had pretty strong accents, but they were mostly speaki ng 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 th e 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."
Oscar took a couple of carefully controlled breaths. "Your lady guard all right?"
"Just fine. Let's back out of here, now." They slipped into their unnoticeable spells and jogged away.
The noodles were tipping three bodies out of their boxes. Oscar got close enough to feel the cold from the open container. Had they frozen the bodies to keep them from decaying? He got a good look at each man. They were all in Western uniforms, showing a bit of wear, no one he kne w. Little holes in the uniforms, not a lot of blood, as if they'd died quickly.
:: What the heck? Stiletto? Arrows with a simple point? Bran, do you have any idea what sort of wounds those 'guns' of theirs make? ::
:: No idea. But I'll bet you're onto something. They'd have to use a gun, if they want to fool the Earthers. ::
As the noodles withdrew, Oscar searched the bodies and removed the few papers on the corpses. Then he galloped after Bran, getting over a roll in the terrain so he could let the spell go before his head exploded. The alarm sounded below; the Oners charged out of the large central building and through the lighted area with swords raised. The first troops out ducked away, pulling pistols. The Oners got around the corner of a building and ran. Some soldiers blocked them and fell quickly, without a hand touching them. Then the Oners were racing into the dark with only a few flashes of light, and some triplet bangs from the long guns pursuing them. The Earthers wisely decided not to chase the attackers out into the dark hills, at least on foot. Engines were starting back in the camp.
Oscar and Bran hid up on the hill until they were satisfied the Earthers had suffered no casualties apart from
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