“You know, I think I'm being set up here.” Tor said in Noram standard to the woman that could easily have been his own mother. Probably was in the same way he was Burks. It was screwed up, but what could he do about it? The woman was family, so he'd deal no matter how bizarre the whole thing was. It's what you did.
She looked at him for a moment head tilted slightly as if asking a question, black hair shining, running like water over her right shoulder. The robe she wore was bright blue but a single color, not accentuating her figure at all. After a bit she smiled, a slightly doubting and bitter thing that he recognized as his mothers too. It was the one she gave him when he'd just said something stupid.
“Really? You mean to say that meeting your own grandmother, one you never met, in a far off land stretches your credulity? You make magic rivers for a living, and fly through the air with the power of a thought, and think that this is the hard to believe part? What am I supposed to do with you? Well, nothing for it now, you can't help it if you're a man, can you? Come have a seat and we'll invite your friends in, some at least. This place isn't big enough for all those unbalanced behemoths.” Brushing her hair to one side daintily she let her expression turn to something less aggressive.
“Tell me, what's the point of having over-sized humans like that anyway? They eat more, take up greater resources and only contribute war and aggression to the world. I always thought the Cordes program was a mistake, but then Noram always did go with the idea of bigger being better. Small people would have done more for them in the end I think. Well, too late now. They'll breed themselves down to a decent size in a few thousand years. That or kill each other off, which will work too.”
Tor sat, there was a pillow on the floor, a pink thing that reminded him a little of spun sugar. It seemed more cloud than seat but that didn't stop it from easily supporting his weight. After a moment Mutta led in part of the group, smiling and speaking softly as if they might be scared by all this. Well, it was a trap, but only one for him. Tor shrugged and turned his clothing to black combat leathers. If it was a fight, he'd try his best. It acted as a warning to the others, who all shifted their clothing to match his. Suddenly the woman in front of him clapped her hands. Tor expected an attack, but tea came instead, carried by a ebony skinned boy of about sixteen. He didn't make eye contact at all looking down the whole time and smiled, but it was like he was shy, that horrible kind of thing that made it hard to actually talk to people at all. Tor could relate but looking away right now would be a poor plan. Ambassadors couldn't afford to be shy and retiring, could they?
“Everyone, Grandma. Grandma, everyone.” Tor said his voice gaining a bit of a lilt suddenly, he couldn't say why, but he kept going.
“At least in part, we've been lured here, I think. I imagine they really do want the rivers too, otherwise they're going to be rather upset when we start senselessly flooding the middle of their continent.” He stopped talking long enough to get a single, but very definite nod from Gray.
“So the question now is, why bring us here. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd have come just to chat, but this seems a little more… doesn't it? If I'm imagining things, please do let me know. I can go and get an early nights rest instead of dealing with this then. First though, Gray is it? Do you have another name I can call you?”
The pause was long, drawn out and peppery, if that was possible. He literally smelled pepper in the air suddenly, after a moment the shields all turned on and started flaring purple. Flickers of light in the air, making thick clouds after less than a moment, each of his people glowing suddenly, brightly enough to cast shadows on the wall. It had started with his shield, but the others followed as if catching on to the threat as he did. That made sense. It was all deep mind stuff, so when his friends saw him reacting to a threat, they did too. If without having thought about it at all.
“Nanos?” He gave the very young looking Ancient girl in front of him a hard stare.
“Genetically modified viruses, not an attack at all. They simply cause a person to feel peaceful. A temporary effect that would last no more than three days. It isn't meant as an assault. It's just that your people are very aggressive and warlike. Plus, you in particular are probably feeling more than a little tense. Call it a bit of insurance, one that obviously isn't going to work. So, my name?” She looked like she struggled to remember something finally she spoke, her voice still far away.
“Lara Gray. Now just called Gray. I had you brought here because I need you to do something for me. It's nothing all that big, I need you to carry a letter for me. To Austra. It must arrive in four months time and be handed directly to Glost Serge the Prime Minister there. It must go with you, or Burks Green, and honestly I think your personal odds of survival are higher, but I can't promise anything there. Don't tell Burks I said that though or he'll insist that he's the only one that can do the job. Will you do that for me?” With barely a movement a letter on fine, thick paper, folded in three pieces and tied with leather, appeared in her right hand. She passed it to her left, a slow and careful movement, and stretched a little to hand it to him.
After a long pause Tor took it. Nothing happen, but he knew that it was a trick of some kind. If not one meant for him than for someone else. Probably. Glost Serge… he'd heard the name before. A schoolboy that had tried to kill his mother?
Tor spoke without setting the question up.
“Is that a family thing do you think? Everyone always trying to kill us for stupid reasons?” Rolph sat next to Sara and his sister, Trice next to Kolb and Wensa. Ursala bumped shoulders with Bonita, which was chummier than he'd thought they'd gotten, but then he'd been distracted. Lara tilted her head a little before speaking.
“I sometimes wonder. People have tried to kill me hundreds of times, and I can only think of about four that had valid reasons in the whole bunch. The most common being fear from a person that can't admit they're afraid. Anyway, that's what I want done and why I asked you here. So if that's out of the way, tell me about my daughter. If the letter isn't out of the way, please deal with that now.”
It was his mother’s voice and bossy tone, but magnified over time into something bitchy and off-putting, lacking the basic politeness Tor expected to find there, even as her voice lilted and sounded basically sensible. Not really friendly or playful, but businesslike while, clearly looking down at him for some reason. Burks didn't do that, so it wasn't just an effect of being old, Tor didn't think. No, this was just her.
Right. Well, going to the heart of an enemy power during a war, that seemed reasonable, didn't it? He nodded slowly to show thought, wondering if he'd really do it. It didn't seem likely, but a lot could change in four months.
Nodding again he smiled gently.
“I won't promise it, but if I think it can be done without getting me killed or hurting anyone, I'll try. If that's not good enough, then… I'm sorry?” It was, he hoped, a diplomatic and honest answer.
At least the Ancient woman nodded back.
“That's fine. I'm not trying to send you on a suicide mission. It's just a note that may help my daughter in time. Or not. It's all I have to give in the way of aid to her right now. We don't fight here you know.”
Tor suspected that kind of aggression had been genetically removed from the people. They didn't fight… and they couldn't. What protected them from invaders he wondered? Or Tellerand missionaries. They were legendary for going where they weren't wanted and demanding that other people change their traditions and beliefs to match their own. He didn't have a chance to say anything about it, or ask, because Lara Gray started to ask questions about Laurali one right after the other. Obviously the conversation had changed, even if he wasn't ready to leave the current topic yet.
“Yeah, well if you want to know what she looks like, imagine you about ten years older looking. Or change and go look in a mirror, that should do it. Her hairs short right now though. Personality wise? She’s a bit… darker than you really, seems a little more sane most of the time, but she has her moments, oddball things… She doesn't seem to hate men as much as you do, but she does tend to act like were all a little dumber than we actually are. Is that part of your pattern? Genetics I mean? Eleven kids, which is too many, but seems to be to her personal plan, not an accident. I don't know what to say other than that.” It was his mother. What could he say?
You didn't insult your mother openly, especially to your grandmother.
A lot more could be said, it seemed, because if he wasn't asked three hundred questions in the next three hours… His butt fell asleep on the cushion and his legs started to tingle. It should have been fascinating, but this older version of his mother, with her vast experience was… strange and rude. Off-putting. Not just to him either. That could easily have been expected just based on the resemblance to his own mother. There was a constant feeling that she was just barely able to put up with Tor as a person and the other men clearly angered her even more with their presence. It wasn't anything she said, exactly. Mainly in the tense way she ignored them and seemed irritated by everything they said or did. Even when they had additional information she wanted and asked for.
Rolph jovially recalled speaking to Laurali and Douglass not two weeks before, how pleased Lara's daughter was with Tor and what he'd managed to accomplish, and her other children. How Timon was going to start school the next year at the new Printer Academy, even though he would be only twelve then, and Tiera was to go to Lairdgren the year after.
The Ancient looked like she wanted to backhand the Prince where he sat. It was obvious enough that he gave her a strained smile and stopped speaking after only a minute or so, his words tapering awkwardly. A bit later talking about the river placement, Kolb produced a map and pointed to what he meant in his description of where things were to be placed. Lara sighed loudly, and asked him to stop nattering, because the ladies were trying to discus important matters. Kolb folded up the map and put it away, his ire obviously up at least a bit, easily seen by the tense set of his jaw and shoulders. After that things just kept getting worse.
She kept it up the whole time, not sparing any of the men at all and saying derisive things about them as if they were too dumb to notice it. If she'd been drinking they could have written it off, maybe, but her tea smelled like leaf water, nothing stronger and she didn't slur her words or anything of that nature, she just kept on insulting the men.
Even the women with them started to get worked up after a while, shifting uneasily and going pale several times, like when she implied that the Prince might be mentally defective, or that Kolb's best possible service to the world would be learning to sew and service his wife in bed. Finally Tor knew he had to either leave now and go back to the ship for the night for some sleep, or go and leave, never to come back. Hopefully his own mother aged more… sanely. This woman in front of him seemed almost like she wanted to push them into going to war or at least into killing her.
It was looking close to that really. And she wondered why people always tried to kill her?
No wonder the whole land was messed up, if she'd been riding men like that for millennium non-stop. She wouldn't have been happy breaking their spirits either, she wouldn't rest until she broke their very patterns, which had probably been what happened to them all. Finally, almost reluctantly, Tor had to call her on it. It wasn't polite or kind of him, or very diplomatic, but it needed to be said for his own peace of mind. Besides, She'd basically been declaring war on Noram for over an hour by insulting Rolph like that. Kolb may be mad, and Tor felt a little put out himself, a lot really, but saying things like that about the heir to the throne was insanely stupid. Rolph kept his cool, but it was starting to become difficult to ignore.
“I'm sorry, but you really have some incorrect ideas about men Lara. Real ones I mean, not ones broken by your genetic tampering to sap their will and damage their intelligence so that you can live in your little fantasy world where you and your “daughters” live the perfect life. I have to tell you that if you degrade and deride even ten percent of your population as a culture, then your culture is ill and going to fail in the end.” His voice was, surprisingly enough, calm and matter of fact, not angry or pissy sounding.
She looked shocked. Like he'd thrown his beverage at her or tipped the table over.
“What? I don't know what you’re talking about. Men are treated as total equals here.” The list she gave them, describing what men did to prove her point, was a joke. The home making and child rearing parts were the highlight. Really the only valid work they were allowed. Even their hobbies were controlled to a degree that made him squirm. Knot tying? Most of the men practiced decorative rope work… Not a bad thing, but it was almost all they were allowed to do for fun, that and weaving goat silk or tending the herds.
“You honestly can't see it? Just totally blind to it? Right in front of you and…” Tor waved a hand in front of his own face, past his eyes. “Nothing? You've led an entire part of the world to hate an entire gender, and I mean to the point of severely abusive behavior and it isn't that you justify it, or try to explain, you can't even see that you’re doing it at all? I'm certain you aren't stupid, probably the smartest person in Afrak… so… are you insane? Have you simply lived so long in your own world, one of your personal making, that you can't understand that things could be done differently?”
Tor rose and began to walk out.
“I can't change your culture, or order you to respect your own people, but I can insist you don't insult people, men in this case, who came across half the world to help you do something you haven't managed on your own for a thousand years or more. If you can't bring yourself to apologize to mere men for your behavior, we'll just leave in the morning.”
Tor dropped the letter on the table and walked out. If she'd just insulted him he could have swallowed it, but she'd been insulting his friends. By insulting and questioning Rolph like that, she was insulting Noram directly too. If what they had to offer wasn't worth basic politeness, then they could leave. Maybe go to Soam. They were supposed to be incredibly polite there, if a little odd. Whatever, it would work out. Tor started setting up his carriage so Kolb, Wensa and Trice did the same. They were all pushing the size limits of the craft, but it would work.
“Court Jester! Court Jester! Tor! Wait, please! I… I came to apologize for the elder, the old sometimes forget their manners, things change and they fail to adapt, I… don't want to lose the rivers. No one else in the world has them or anything close at all. Without them this project won't start, possibly not for another thousand years.” Her voice was plaintive and he thought of her as a friend, but the matter wasn't about her at all. So he had to shake his head.
“Mutta, you don't even think I made the rivers, do you? You can just go to Noram and find the woman who did then, and ask her couldn't you?” His tone wasn't accusing, just suggestive, as if it were a real option instead of basically telling her to go on a wild goose chase. He was tired of these people already though. Who brought someone across the world to do things for them and then just insulted them, over and over again?
His own family apparently.
Lovely.
Violence not happening there or not, she still clenched her fists in frustration. Tor looked at her and then at her hands. Finally she looked down and gasped slightly, clearly embarrassed by her own implied threat. Tor shrugged.
“It's never fun to hear you and your whole culture has holes in it. They all do, just like everyone has weak spots. But… seriously, you've seen our culture and how women are treated and you saw that in there. Do you think we can be anything but insulted right now? Wouldn't you be? Tell me that if the roles were reversed you'd have been fine with it, and mean it, and I'll get up in the morning and go start working on those rivers, even if no one else will.” Arms crossed and head tilted he waited for a denial or more protests, something.
Instead she sighed.
“Have you ever tried leading a stubborn most Ancient being around and make her apologize? She's never been like this before, not even with the Tellerand, and they're hard to deal with, always insisting others pray and fast as they do and take up their ways. Please… Court Jester, give me some time to get to the bottom of this before you leave? I've worked too hard, for my entire life, to have a fit of anger ruin it now, yours or hers. I'll make her apologize. Can you meet us here in the morning before you ready to go? I'll be going with you to set up the rivers.” The voice went matter of fact then. Confident as if she knew for a fact that Gray would be doing as she'd promised.
Everyone else stood around looking at them, Rolph had good control of his face, but Karina and Trice looked ready to hit someone and Wensa actually fingered her weapons in the small cloth pouch on her right hip. One of the male Royal Guards held a force lance in his hand and faced a growing crowd of women, no, Tor realized there were men too, peeking shyly from the back of the group, looking at them through their long lashes. There were men here, it was just that they were all so docile, so gentle, that he mistook them for women.
A prejudice of his own? Probably. Tor would have to reconsider his thinking on the topic then. After all he knew Wensa, Trice and Karina… and all the women with Kolb, those in the Royal Guard, even the Queen… Most of the women he knew were anything but docile.
Fine, he'd fix himself then.
Take the person for who they were alone. It wasn't the easiest way to do things, but who ever said the easy way was best?
Nothing wrong with not being an overbearing jerk, of course, and he couldn't fault the men here for being what Lara and her family had created. That he was her family too bothered him a little. She was overbearing, pushy about it and couldn't see that her own way might not be the only way. In other words, she was his mother.
Tor winced visibly, which caused half the people behind him to tense up and ready themselves to fight and Mutta to take notice. The crowd missed it all, but then, as pointed out, they didn't have violence. A single Noram child with a stick could have cowed the whole lot of them without even landing a blow.
“Fine. We'll be here in the morning and ready to go to work. I won't really insist that your life's work hinge on the whims or convoluted plans of my own grandmother, but… seriously Mutta… she tried to infect a peaceful delegation with something, including two members of the royal family! I'm kind of surprised that Wensa and Kolb didn't kill her on the spot. That's an act of war, you know that don't you? She needs to do something to make that right. I'd suggest vast amounts of bowing and scraping. She's old enough to have gotten past her own ego by now, if not I suggest she learn quickly.” Sighing he shook his head.
“I'm the wrong person for this job aren't I? She's basically my own mother and you know, I love my mother, but she isn't always the easiest person in the world. That has to be in her field pattern too, because Lara is exactly the same! Only worse. Frustrating old bat. And yes, feel free to tell her I said all that. If she wants to fight with me over all this, that's fine, we're family and have to put up with each other, but taking off after Prince Alphonse was stupid and taunting Kolb… well, just point out to her that it was a mistake and she should know better.”
The Ambassador, the other Ambassador, stood grinning.
Right, he'd told her that he wouldn't really withhold the rivers. That may be simple truth, but it didn't mean he'd be happy about it, or do it without making her life difficult. Everyone else had loaded into the carriages already, all decked out in fantastic colors, except Trice’s which was a dead looking flat black. It went with the ship well, if not her personality. Trice had always struck him as a bright blue person that way.
“I will see to fixing things Ambassador Baker.” The small dark woman said, bowing low to him.
He stuck out his tongue.
“Stop that. You're what, my aunt? Cousin?”
She shook her head with a slightly amazed look. Probably that he was being so dense. That or the fact that he finally put together that her family name was “Gray” just in a different language?
“No… I'm your great niece. Though also your cousin.”
Of course she was.
Tor gave her a quick bow and told her they'd be back at first light trying not to sound like he wanted to kill someone. Ambassadors didn't do that, did they? Not good ones.
Back on the ship everyone exploded. Nearly at least. The huge scary Baron, Havor people called him. That could be either his first or last name, or the sound you made when he crushed your spine. Tor didn't know. The enraged giant stormed around complaining about how the Afrak women had kept staring at him and poking his stomach. One even tried to look at his teeth, as if he were a horse and another had tried taking his trousers down for some reason.
Tor had to admit it sounded off-putting in the extreme. Most of the royals, even the women were visibly angry. A few with him, for saying they'd put in the rivers anyway. The Royal Guards didn't complain, they just stood back and watched. As if nothing mattered as long as they didn't have to defend the Prince or Prince’s. But then they were used to being considered second class citizens weren't they? Furniture in the background. Useful, but not counted as important most of the time. Sara, with her merchant background didn't seem overly put out either.
“Sara, you seem to be the calmest one here, that isn't armed openly at least, thoughts?” They needed rationality now, didn't they? This girl may have seen something he'd missed, she was smart, Tor knew, and often got things he didn't. She was, among other things, a highly trained observer.
“This culture is screwed up, the men… I don't know what's wrong with them, but they're different than ours. A lot. Mainly the same size or smaller than the women. Still, is the way they're treated all that different than how the nobles treat the commoners back home? The assumption that one group is superior, should be giving the orders and making the demands? Pretty familiar isn't it? It's based on gender here rather than social rank, but how different is that really? Something totally beyond the individual’s ability to change being used to assign position.”
Ah.
It was a good point, Tor had to nod, even as the large royals milled around and fumed, a few of the men looked ready to lash out physically, which was scaring Ali more than a bit. She slipped to the side of the deck, away from everyone else. Since no one was noticing her overly he went and took her hand in his, getting a small scared look for his trouble. She didn't speak, but Sara was busily standing her ground in the middle of the deck, facing off with a group of three giants who were arguing that she was wrong. They seemed intent on proving that they weren't entitled and overbearing jerks by looming over her and basically ordering that she change her mind.
Because that made sense, didn't it?
Tor kissed the girl on the cheek and asked her to stay there, just in case things got tense, and walked back to his pretty blond friend. Hearteningly Rolph did the same. If anyone got mad and attacked, Tor wouldn't have to fight alone at least. It wouldn't come to that, he hoped. Too many hard feelings could be built that way, fast. Sara stared up at the larger people, her gaze taking in all the extra tall people.
“Really, you don't do that? We don't do that? I've heard all of you talking in the past week you know. I've been groped, fondled, and ordered into bed by at least six of you, and if I didn't have the heir to Noram himself running interference I would have had to do it. When Tor only made oats one night, half of you wanted to order him to remake the whole meal by himself… And he's a noble, with rank as high or higher than most of you, the Ambassador and a wizard! He could make the whole boat go away with a thought, make all our magic not work and leave us in the middle of the ocean! You all just look at his height and forget that. The subconscious assumption that those you perceive as being beneath you really are is no different here with the Afrak women. You're just upset because it's happening to you this time.”
It was a good thought. It certainly had a ring of truth to it, didn't it?
The nobles didn't like hearing it, but the Royal Guard didn't blink, living that kind of thing all the time. Tor wondered if he did that to people too? He didn't think so, but decided to make a point of looking for it from now on. Change had to start with you, or it likely wouldn't happen.
People still wanted to be worked up, reasonable speech from his friend or not, so Petra called over Kolb and Wensa and had them put their people to bed.
Without dinner.
That wasn't so much a punishment as the fact that nothing had been made, but it still drove home the point when one of the men, a minor noble of some kind that had batted Tor around a time or two in practice, one always heavy on the stick or blade tending to leave bruises, told Tor to just go and make them all something to eat. He said it as if he really hadn't been paying attention at all. Ordered him too, more than a little gruffly, to tell the truth, grumpy from the conversation and hunger no doubt. The man didn't even bother to add a please to the end as an afterthought. Or offer to help with the work. David Derring walked over and hit him in the back of the head. A full punch too. That it landed meant the man had gone to a strange land without his shield on. After less than a seconds pause David hit him again for good measure.
“Moron. Were you not just standing here the whole time? Damn, we really are that bad aren't we? Gods.” The tall thin man with his very short light brown hair and combat leathers stormed off, to bed most likely, that having been the suggestion.
Sara looked at him and rolled her eyes, and Kolb, for the first time Tor ever remembered, looked… embarrassed. That probably wouldn't go well for the hungry guy. Tor grabbed Sara by the hand on the way past and walked her to her room without speaking, glaring a little at the tall people filing in around them. They'd been demanding she perform for them sexually? Tor could see it, she was cute and fit, and to their minds her short height meant fair game. Socially she was… actually the lowest ranked person in the whole crew. Even he was higher up, if only technically. Ali was actually a Counserina too, by birth. He shook his head getting a funny look from his friend.
“What is it Tor, are you alright?” She looked slightly worried, so he grinned to reassure her, his go to move when he wasn't shrugging.
“I was just realizing I'm not the lowest ranked person on the ship, or in the world. I… it's hard for me to remember that kind of thing. I just always kind of assume it.”
The statement got a kiss as a reply. Then she asked if he wanted to come in for a while… given everything he didn't think he really should, in case she was just trying to make him feel better with sex, but she wrinkled her nose cutely and pulled him in anyway.
“It's that stuff Trice told me about isn't it? How you don't see yourself correctly and can't really help it? If you were in a room with a dozen pot washers you'd think your social position was about the same, right? Or a dozen King’s, so at least there's that. It's bizarre really. Alphonse has told me more than once about how you've stood in the presence of the whole royal family and traded barbs with some of the highest councilors in the land, but you still always act so humble and demure the rest of the time. Amazing.”
Then, thankfully she started kissing him, which led to other things. He slept in her room for about five hours before he forced himself up to make breakfast. He was draggingly tired, but happy enough about it. Sara was sweet and gentle with him, compared to Karina who was always a bit physical and dominating, or Ursala, who was always fun and interesting but not that warm. It wasn't that he minded that, but with Sara he felt… loved. With Trice too, but she had a different feel about what she did, more urgent, more about the moment. Tor could feel that Sara wanted something long term when she touched him, not just a few moments of pleasure.
Tor nodded. He was unconsciously reading her field. Everyone did it all the time, so it wasn't that damaging, and he was getting his field cohesion back pretty well, so it wasn't really a worry that way anymore. That was a good thing.
Still, he needed to spend more time with Alissa, even if Sara was kind of more interesting to him at the moment. They were to be married and he intended to go through with it, even if Count Derring was out of the picture by then. She was young, but needed someone that would stand for her all the time and really, there were worse reasons. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't love other people too. Same went for her though.
Could he do that? It wasn't what he was trained to really, but then, Two Bends was, he began to realize, a fiction for him. His mother had always seemed to fit in, but had she really? There had always been subtle things, the constant bathing for instance, that set them all apart, the good table manners she instilled and now that he thought about it, she'd always favored the girls a bit over the boys. More than a bit.
It wasn't a big thing, a lot of mothers did that there, the men were more responsible for the boys, since they were the example of what they needed to grow into. That just made sense. But his mom was pretty bad about it even for Two Bends. Tor had always shared in all the chores, but when he stopped to think about it he was pushed into more of the home duties than Terlee had ever been. More washing and cooking for the family, and he'd cared for the younger kids a lot more too, as well as other things. Terlee had done a lot and volunteered to help, being a good sister, so he'd never noticed really, but mom hadn't required it of her. Was that the whole genetic thing then? The idea was unsettling and made him realize that he had to keep him mother out of power at all costs in Noram. The idea of their broken system merging with Afrak's frightened him a little. It would end up with a bunch of tall women treating little men as slaves and worse. The idea shook him for a bit, causing a slight shudder before he grinned.
She wasn't really that bad. Not like Lara. Maybe it was growing up with relative equality as far as genders went that did it? Tor hoped so. If granny Lara was what she was going to become, Tor didn't want to see it. Was he going to become Burks then? That wasn't so bad, he was a good guy, if a little strange at times, but willing to serve others, high position or not, and he let others rule. Lara, Tor thought without real proof, seemed to lead Afrak directly. Burks didn't force himself to the front nearly as much.
No, he led from behind the scenes, in secret.
Heh.
Breakfast held some surprises for him, after he started the early baking, making a lot more bread than normal. That and thick, flat, oil crackers for later, batch after batch, dashing about trying to make pancakes and eggs for the actual meal at the same time. At about five, some helpers actually came in. Seven of them, five men and two women, all clearly having been beaten more than a little. A few still had darkening bruises on their tired faces and several limped. One of them Tor recognized as the hungry guy from the night before.
“Alright,” He pointed a spoon that he was stirring batter with at the man. “Grab four of the fresh loaves and divide them in half please… You, miss… Dara is it? If you'd go to the large cooler and get a pot of butter? Top left shelf. You can eat something before you start so you won't feel ill around the food, but hurry, we don't have a lot of time today.”
He worked without hesitating to much, not having time to slow down really, and after a few minutes of hungry gulping one of the men, shorter than the rest looked at him guiltily. After swallowing the mouthful of warm bread and half melted butter he spoke softly. Tor had to stop and walk out of the kitchen to really hear him. He stood in the doorway holding a large bowl of pancake batter, stirring it with a long wooden spoon.
“Kolb took after us. All at once, and with our shields on… Figured out a shield overlap technique. I need to learn that. Mainly for trying to boss Sara into bed. I guess I need to go and apologize to her for that today, before we leave. Um, if I've personally wronged you, I apologize and promise to try and fix it in the future.” He bowed, a seated one, so he didn't really think he'd wronged Tor personally, it was more about making sure he seemed polite.
The others chimed in, but the hungry guy actually got onto his knees and bowed low.
“I know I have, I forgot my place… sir. I cannot beg of you to forgive me, I don't deserve it. I simply ask that my punishment not be delivered unto others not to blame.”
It was a good apology and as much as he could, the man seemed to mean it. Tor wondered if he thought that he was going to go after his family for it or something? That phrasing was the one that the nobles used when trying to prevent wars, Tor had come to realize. Basically saying that they'd sacrifice themselves to save their people, if it was required. Maybe he thought Tor would punish everyone else here by not fixing food for them? That seemed more likely. He helped the man up quickly enough, not wanting to draw his humiliation out.
“OK, well, those of you that have apologies to make to Sara should see to it after breakfast, after all that's way worse than just trying to order up some dinner… For now let’s get to fixing food and then securing the kitchen and making packages of travel fare. We have to have every one fed and ready to fly in three hours.” The timing was arbitrary, but the flight would take most of the day and he wanted actual work to start before dark. They could camp out if need be, he even had houses to hold them all for comfort, in a little box in his cabin, but things were likely to get hard fast if they didn't have at least some water coming in the first day.
Tor didn't really have to pack much, just load up the rivers and equipment from Mutta's room for her and make up a small bag with grooming gear for his own comfort. He had the rest of what he needed around his neck, except food. The Ambassador was in charge of that. What he was bringing was just in case she forgot at first.
His great niece…
The idea was odd, but family was, in the end, foisted upon you without your consent, even in the best of cases. At least Mutta was sane. Tor really wasn't sure about Lara Gray yet.
After he ate and set people to putting things away properly for the week or longer they'd be gone, Tor took Kolb, Rolph and Karina to the dock, expecting to have to either wait on Lara, or just leave disappointed. What he saw in the distance was that two people stood, one dressed in drab gray, the other brilliant colors. Closing in he noticed that one had to be Lara, being as pale as she was. The other turned out to not be Mutta, but the older woman with bright blue hair and orange cat slit eyes. The look was so exotic that Tor couldn't help but remember her, even though they hadn't exchanged names.
When they landed and climbed out neither moved for a long while. Then Lara came at him like an evil creature of legend. For a half second Tor wondered if she was going to try and attack him physically. He wore a shield and was well armed, if it came to that, but it would be hard to fight her, even if she was bitchy and mean. After all, she was his grandmother and looked exactly like his mom, and really, his little sister Tiera too. Exactly like both of them. Tor just hoped he was wrong in that thought about his little sister. Three of this beast would be too much for the world to take.
“How dare you embarrass me like that! This is my land, not yours and we don't need some outsider coming in to tell us how to live! If it weren't for the fact that we need your forsaken magic rivers I'd kick you all out today and never let you return! I can't remember the last time I was so angry, so mortified by the actions of another person! To think you're my own flesh and blood too. It was a mistake ever agreeing to try Greens experiment, I can see that now. You're exactly like him! Exactly! Always coming here and telling me that I mistreat men and acting like I should bow to his ways! If I didn't know your genetics better than I know my own I'd think you were a moron instead of one of the smartest people on the planet. I should have insisted that Laurali only have girls like I did! The world doesn't need two green men, always trying to improve energy distribution and being so self-effacing every single moment of their lives. Humph!” She stomped her foot, the right one, in the same way his mother always did before she started laughing at the end of similar fits. It was, more or less, an act, Tor understood. Meant to cow, but also let people know that she wasn't truly angry.
Rolph looked shocked and pale, a bad sign that Lara probably didn't really get, the possible start of combat rage. Kolb had turned red and looked ready to explode and Karina stood stock still, one hand on something in a pocket as if ready to draw a weapon. It had all been directed at Tor though, the harangue, so he shrugged and crossed his arms, tapping his right foot at the Ancient woman that looked a lot like his little sister. The idea made him stop for a second again. She might have the whole Ancient field pattern too, but was she also a copy of Lara? Another copy? Eek. If that was the case he needed to get her away from home as soon as possible and start teaching her to be a bit more accepting of others.
“Alright Granny, vented your spleen properly and all that? Now, apologize to the nice royal family and the hardened warrior that could possibly rip a small hole in your continent by himself and then come give us all a hug and we'll be on our way to set up your nice little prezzies.” His grin was sudden and disarming.
Gray froze for a second, a darkness behind her eyes lifting, then she sighed, as if horribly put upon by the world. She finally smiled a bit, but the look was off somehow. Not as focused as what he was used to seeing in his mother. A little dreamy perhaps. Like a person in love might have.
“Tsk. That Green charm. I never could resist it. Fine then. I apologize for my lapses, please forgive me. I'm old and sometimes forget that I don't actually rule the whole world. Even though, clearly, I should.” She swept them a low bow and before anyone could say anything rushed forward to hug him.
“Take the letter anyway?” She asked, her mouth pressed nearly to his ear. He nearly shook her off then, since he could feel the dampness of her breath on his skin and that was way too intimate an action coming from a family member. He was already going to have to have a fight with Burks about this whole mess. Possibly a physical one, which would mean a beating for him of course. He didn't want to mention it out loud, because it was all so embarrassing. Sure, the patterns were different, but Lara was essentially Burks' sister. Maybe not by blood, but close enough. She definitely was Tor’s direct grandmother though and she was holding him like a lover.
Gah.
“Fine, but same as I said last night. Only if I can deliver it safely. I also don't guarantee the time perfectly either. Could be two months, could be eight years.” Tor Shrugged.
She handed it over and started making the rounds of everyone else with hugs. Well, at least it wasn't him anymore, he decided, as she managed to press up against all the others the same way. Maybe that was just how they hugged here? He hadn't seen anything like it, and the one he'd gotten the night before from her had been far less cuddly when she'd though he was Burks, so Tor didn't know what to think.
Mutta, dressed in brown work clothes that looked a lot like his own student browns from school, drove up in a large wagon heaped with evenly sized boxes, bare wood crates. Two strange and huge animals pulled it all, like cows only about five times heavier and with massive horns coming out of the sides of their heads. They were a pleasant dark brown with black on the underside and looked really sturdy.
She waved at them as she hopped down. She half hugged the blue haired woman as she walked by.
“Tor, this is my mother Fiaria Mutta. Your niece. Everything went well then? I don't see any blood. Here, I brought food for the week!”
It didn't look like a enough to Tor, having recently tried stocking enough food for the trip. It had gone just as fast as he'd thought. There was a little waste, but not much, since the big people were always at least a little hungry it seemed. Mutta assured him that these high energy rations would sustain them all very well. Tor grinned. It sounded like they'd taste horrible when she described them, bars of animal fat pressed with nuts and seeds, dried meat and a bit of dried fruit added for flavor. Yum. Everything you needed in a hot desert environment.
Well, he'd eaten giant sea insects so these couldn't be psychologically harder to eat at least.
He pulled one of the magic chests out and resized it to match the wagon, then he and Rolph started unloading. Kolb moved to help, but apparently Lara wasn't done apologizing to him, since she took him by the arm and held him in place. It was fair enough, since of everyone not related, she'd been rudest to the large bald man.
Playing with maps and nattering?
God. That was the entire plan he'd had on the table and if Kolb hadn't done half the work plotting the actual river courses alone it was because he'd done more than that. The Ancient woman almost managed abject when talking to him in particular. Good. At least the bald and scared man wouldn't have to go to war with these people by himself.
The scary part there was that he just might be able to win. Against an entire people.
That could explain the extra effort Tor realized. Lara not wanting to risk something like that. She knew that he wouldn't get mad at her and then attack her people over it, probably as well as anyone knew anything about him at all. She'd grown up with Burks after all hadn't she? The Prince she'd kind of dismissed for some reason, as foolish as that was, since Rolph could probably take on her continent too, but Kolb, he could do anything, couldn't he?
Everyone else started working too, even Karina, who wasn't lazy by nature. Still, loading and unloading carts seemed like a place she'd have drawn a line really. Just about the lowest manual labor possible. At least in the world of a Noram royal. She didn't even blink, just getting to work instantly. The boxes weren't big, but must have weighed forty pounds each, the raw wood giving them all splinters, he could tell, because everyone kept stopping to try and pull them, working at them with their teeth or fingernails. The work went quickly, there were only about twenty boxes, and the trunk he'd expanded let them all fit easily enough. He had to climb inside to organize things, but… a tiny wizard in a box, who didn't like that? Karina mentioned it, but with that wicked grin she used when she plotted some kind of sexual misadventure for him.
He pointed at her. Rudely.
“Don't. Whatever you're thinking, no.”
“No promises. The girls on the ship are getting restless.” She kept working and looking at him with a grin when she thought he couldn't see. He could feel it though.
Fiaria talked with Mutta as they worked, commenting on everything in that way only mothers and people that didn't know you understood them could. So, Tor reflected, honestly, but without a lot of tact? That sounded about right.
“So the pretty one with long hair is my uncle? Good thing you told me, I don't see the family resemblance at all. He does look a bit like mother, that lovely pale look, and their hair is the same. If you hadn't mentioned it, I would have made an offer for him. You need a husband to care for you too dear, you work too hard. The big one isn't bad either, either of them, though Gray seems to be trying for the one with no hair. What kind of price do you think we'd have to offer for the copper haired one?” With a head nod she indicated Rolph.
Mutta lifted a box and then stopped to pull a splinter after handing it off to Tor.
“Honestly? Well, if he wasn't already spoken for, I think I could pass myself off as being royalty from here, even though we don't have that. Close enough really, our ranks are about the same, actually I'm probably equal to the girl there by their system of thinking. Second in line. They wouldn't require anything of us then, but I'd have to move there. He's to run the whole land one day. Not for a time though, the rulers of Noram tend to step down when the heir reaches forty or so, as a tradition, and he's only eighteen, I think.”
The mother clicked, a unique thing that had taken Mutta half a day to teach him to do properly, It required causing suction at the back of the mouth and then freeing the tongue from the roof. In this case it basically meant something was funny, like a chuckle, Tor thought. That had been a little hard for him to pick up, since there was no direct analog in Noram.
“Crazy! I suppose we should make an offer then, if the large boy isn't married yet. They'll need someone sensible like you to help him if that's all they have to lead them. A man… hard to understand these tall people.”
“Mother! He's spoken for already. I don't know, but that may be unbreakable there… not like here where anyone could come in with a better offer up to the day of signing.” She didn't seem put off by the idea, she just didn't know what the rules were.
Tor kept a smile off his face and answered in Afrak, the language a lot easier now that he'd heard others speaking it so often. It felt like he should have known it all along almost, which just pointed out how stupid he was, taking that long to learn it.
“Well, It's not impossible, so an offer might be a good plan. After all, if you point out that Mutta is that high ranking here, which I don't think anyone knew before, it will improve the deal, and you're certainly pretty enough. His current betrothed is already married, but to a man that doesn't exist. Technically Alphonse and Ursala can't be married until that man dies, which should be any time now honestly. If you act fast though there’s a time window for you, a few months. If you're serious, write up a letter and I'll take it to his mother.” Tor held up his hand.
“And yes, the part about her being married to an imaginary man is real. There was a problem and they needed a fictional marriage to fix it. It's no longer a problem though, so I wouldn't wait too long.” That had been Ursala's pregnancy, but she'd lost the child due to poison.
Austran poison.
They chattered back and forth excitedly for a bit, the tone alternately playful and serious. Well. It wasn't just idle chatter then? Good enough. He loved Ursala, but Mutta was family. If he could help her out he had to.
It was a rule.
It meant having to find a husband for the Countess too, probably, but that should be doable. She was wonderful after all. Maybe his younger brother Todd? He was only a year younger than Tor was, so seventeen now, if he hadn't found a girl for himself, that would work. He was good looking and pretty bright even. True, the boy was more interested in baking than most of the others, so he might actually want to skip the whole “being royal” thing, but who was to say he couldn't' do both? He'd have to send a letter to his mom and ask her what that situation was then. Blinking Tor realized the Todd was even a Countier, so well within the three social steps that royals required for their marriages.
When they left from the ship, Mutta sat in the comfortable blue cushioned seat behind Tor making eyes at Rolph so obviously that the Prince finally asked what it was about. He smiled when he asked and his tone was polite, playful, as if he half expected a joke, but he was curious, that much was clear. Tor shrugged and Mutta smiled up at the giant red haired Prince, his color having finally returned to normal.
She didn't say anything though, looking down instead, so Tor did.
“It turns out that Ambassador Mutta is roughly a Princess here, about the same as Karina is. Possibly a little more than that. Her mom is basically the heir, the structure is different, but that's about the size of things. So she and her mother are planning to send a go between. Me actually, to plead for your hand. It's a good match and I think she's serious. She's already agreed to move there full time and everything. Worth entertaining the offer, I'd say. You already know each other even, and you have to admit, her exotic looks alone would make it an intriguing idea. Plus she's really smart and already has training in leadership too.” If a foreign kind that would take some rounding out. In Noram she'd have to learn to accept that men were equals, which might be hard for her, but if anyone from Afrak could do it, Tor would place his gold on her.
One of the great things about Rolph, Tor thought, was how open and kind he really was. He reached out and took her hand gently and smiled.
“Please do! The offer is kind and welcome. I'll speak to my mother for it, if you want?”
They chatted about agreements and plans for the rest of the trip and if the Prince wasn't enthused by the idea Tor couldn't tell at all. Being daring he reached out and felt the attraction blossoming between them. It was incredible to sense like that, a warm feeling that made him like both of them better too. He broke off before he started making them both feel that way about him by accident. That would be awkward all around.
Very awkward.
The trip took ten hours, Wensa and her crew moving to the first installation route without pausing, setting the whole thing up before the original site was reached at all. Tor and a few others would have to start digging the return river as fast as possible and probably end up doing it in the dark. It was stupidly dangerous, but they needed water.
The second he landed Tor jumped out and grabbed the box in the back with the earth moving equipment. The small stones with their leather thongs attached to the back of either hand he hit the flight control sigil and started digging. The right hand had to point out where the earth was and start the stream, the left pointed up slightly and out, making a huge dust cloud. It was the only way he could fly and not crash while making the earth moving equipment work too. The river of dirt flying through the air was impressive, but Tor kept feeling like he was about to die. The whole thing was just so unstable doing it this way.
It hit him that the flying carriages could be used for it with some modification, so the operator wouldn't have to fly themselves at the same time, but that would have to come the next day, the river was flowing towards them already, he knew, Wensa had waved to him in signal as she and her group had flown past, about half a mile away on his right. It was a constant balancing act and the amount of dust made it hard to see the ground at times, but this first line only had to go to an existing river half way to the coast that should carry the flow well enough. It was summer here, Mutta had said, so the water flow was lower than normal. That meant there shouldn't be any severe flooding. Tor hoped so anyway.
The work was fast, messy, and accompanied the whole time by a terrifying sound of thunder that made Tor want to wet himself at first, and feel like he couldn't control the forces involved at all. It was like fear itself lived in the deep, loud rumble. He got used to it though. Most things in life were like that, weren't they? Do it long enough and you started to think of something as normal.
Hours later he found himself flying back in the dark, not knowing if he could find the camp at all. Being a flat sandy desert for the most part, a fine dust rather than real sand, the few lights put out guided him in perfectly, and he descended so slowly that he barely tapped the hard ground under his feet when he landed. Being focused really helped. So did the fact that he knew for certain there were no trees to crash into and, while it would be embarrassing, if he landed on one of the Not-houses that had been set up, it wouldn't hurt anything either. Other than his pride.
Tor was glad he'd managed to find a flat piece of earth though.
The water got there half an hour later and everyone rushed to hook up the water pumps on the little houses to the stream that was equal in flow to the secret river that ran to the military bases north of the Capital. Tor was supposed to get word from the King on that as soon as he heard a report that it existed. Either that had been forgotten or the whole kingdom needed to freak out, that river was huge and nearly twice the flow of the King's river. Someone had to have noticed it and reported by now, didn't they? The flight training school would be getting almost all their water from it for goodness sakes. They'd be flying over it daily too.
Maybe they just didn't know it was supposed to be reported officially?
All the houses had been set up, but no one had bothered to save a spot for Tor. At least no one ran out to wave him in. He could have walked into any of them and demanded a place, of course, he literally owned them all, but it didn't matter. Tor just found a spot and dug through the faintly clicking amulets on his neck, the noise of stone and in a few cases metal clanking together as he found and untangled the right one.
An emergency house.
The idea was simple enough, it was basically a tent, meant for situations like this, or even ones where you had to hide. His flight from Ward with everyone in tow had spurred the idea in him. It was about ten feet across and hid itself by blending with the surrounding environment, pretending to be a small hill. In this case one made of dirt. That was the real point. You didn't have to build the disguise yourself, so that if you were tired, working in the dark, or just not artistic, you could still vanish into it almost seamlessly. There was a bed inside and a dry toilet, as well as a little shower that could be hooked up to water, letting a holding tank fill and then the water line would shut off to hide itself, only turning back on to keep the tank filled. It was basic, black and brown inside, the ceiling glowing softly so he could see everything. Once the water was hooked up he showered and headed to bed. Then at a single touch to a sigil on the wall, things went dark.
The light increased when daylight hit, signaling it was time for all good little bakers to be up for the day. No cooking today, of course, but he wanted to try reconfiguring the carriages and see if that would work out at all. No one else was up, so he made a flat platform, small, just big enough for one giant to stand on, inside a strong cage that came to his shoulders. It had to be that high for the larger people, though he could use it by putting his hands through the bars if it came to that. Almost directly underneath the cage, a little to the front for visibility was the drivers station. He made it bright pink so that it would be easy to see in the air. Good enough. Now he just had to get someone to try it. His vote this time was Trice, who was a better magic carriage driver than he was, along with one of the guys slated to do the excavation work anyway. Looking around he saw a sleepy looking Trice walk out of a stone house with several contented looking men following her.
Really, it didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going on in there. Well, at least those guys wouldn't be all sexually frustrated the whole time. Seeing him she ran over and gave him a hug.
“Tor! You made it back. We were all a bit worried about you. What's the plan?”
Food first, then try the new idea he had, he shared with her, accepting a kiss on the lips hoping she'd brushed her teeth at least after doing whatever she had with all those guys. It wasn't a disease problem, sexual diseases hadn't survived the great change, which was probably due to genetic changes made to the people that survived back then, maybe on purpose. That much he'd gotten from Mutta when she was talking about medical matters. That there used to be diseases for sex was interesting. No, it was just that he didn't want to taste five other guys on her breath this early in the day. Or ever.
Yeah, he was a prude. He knew it, still…
The taste was of cinnamon. His own toothpaste was the same still, though when it was gone he was switching back to the normal anise flavor.
His own body started to respond, so Tor let go of her and winked. They didn't have time for that now and she was probably tired of it anyway for the time being. Instead they went to the food area where a box of fat and nut bars had been opened. A pack of crackers in waxed paper sitting on the top left hand side. People took them but ate slowly as if it was a chore, after the first bite he could see why. The flavor was bland, but not bad, just a slight nut flavor with a very light hint of berry and shreds of chewy meat, all coated in fat. Yum. They were dried, the nuts, meat and berries, so the flavors didn't carry well in the mouth. The texture was waxy, and probably had to be, to not melt in the heat, and sickening after the first few bites. One the good side, he decided, a few bites would really do the trick for a while and they could carry them along, eating when they got hungry.
“What is this crap.” The big Baron, Havor, muttered looking at the bar in his hand, not even taking a bite.
Tor didn't bother glaring. Really, he expected less complaints from a member of the secret army. He’d have to get with Kolb on that. Maybe some kind of special training? It wasn't the Baron's fault, but if he complained, others would be more likely to as well.
“Survival rations. Eat it or starve, but we have work to do and a time limit. It's food and won't make you sick, so get some in you, and eat when you get hungry, we don't have time to whine about the food here. This is one of the biggest missions your unit has ever been on. Maybe one of the biggest anyone has ever done. So eat it, and don't think about it.” Tor's voice surprised him and made Trice sit up and look at him funny. He'd sounded enough like Kolb that several people looked around for the weapons master.
The Baron looked at the bar, grimaced and took a bite, chewing as if it were poisoned and then trying it again. It wasn't of course, Tor had checked without even thinking of it. He always did now. Across from him Trice smirked, which was her go to look with him, he wondered if it was really a smirk or just her small smile? She seemed happy enough. She actually felt happy when Tor bumped into her field for a second.
He'd been reading that look wrong the whole time he'd known her? Oops. What else had he been just getting wrong, he wondered, staring at her a little as he tried to figure her out. Her smile went mischievous and playful, which made him instantly check her field, feeling relived when that guess actually turned out to be correct.
“Oooh, Commander Tor… ready for duty sir!” Going low her voice went happy and teasing too, “have any commands for me… sir?”
A year before Tor would have blushed, flustered and gone over how he'd misunderstood her or how she was obviously just playing with him. This time, a year older and wiser, he got it.
Finally.
“I do, in fact. Right now we have work to do, but later I want to see you in my quarters. Naked and on your knees. Understood?” That he blushed as he said it didn't come through in his voice at all, he thought, almost proud of the fact.
“Oohhh, fierce! Well then, yes sir, understood Commander Tor sir.”
They both laughed.