“Now we just lock you in here and I'll go and fight in your place. It's brilliant, don't you think?” She didn't stop smiling, clearly relived.
It really was.
“This device, can you copy anyone like that? Does it remember the field if you turn it off and back on?” It was clearly a novel build, a good one too…
“Um, no, I haven't figured out how to do that part yet, I mean I can find the field in some of your stuff, but it's really complex and subtle. I have to stay like this until after the fight, but this will work. Even if he kills me… Well, as long as you make a substitution after the fight quickly enough, no one will be the wiser! Just slip in and pretend that you were hurt, but not killed. That will work.”
Tor raised his eyebrows. Then he nodded.
“Except that part where you'd be dead. Not to be a pain here Lyn, but I won't let a friend go and fight my battles for me at the cost of their own life. Better if I die than you after all.” Tor shrugged.
“After all, this is my mess.”
The image of him looked sour and shook his head.
“No, this is some bully trying to kill you when you're weak, because he's a coward. He's even announced publicly that he won't be accepting any other challenges or let anyone bait him into fighting them instead. Said it was due to “cause” but I think it's just that he knows he wouldn't make it if he didn't hide behind the rules like he is.” The face was his, and a really good likeness of young looking Burks, but the voice was all young girl.
Tor patted his own shoulder, across from him, and turned the field the girl was using off. Lyn snapped back into existence, which was a relief. Looking at her with his image had been freaky.
“It's a good build Lyn, but it shows why you can't take my place. You're good. Better than I was at your age, and I won't risk what you'll become for my own comfort now. Don't worry though. I have this in hand.” Tor winked at her, which got crossed arms and a snort in return.
“Do you now? A child with a feather could take you out, much less some crazy giant with a mad — on for you. I'm even afraid to look at your field pattern right now, because I could accidentally damage it and kill you!”
Tor held out his hand and smiled gently.
“Go ahead, be careful though.”
She touched his arm with a single finger, tilted her head… and smiled.
“Oh! I… That's a lot better than I thought. How did you do that? I accidentally brushed your field about a few weeks ago and I swear I thought it was going to kill you…”
Tor explained the meditation, which made her eyes go wide.
After he finished, she bowed.
“Well, in that case, I was wondering, do you think you could come to dinner with my family tomorrow? I've had an… offer of marriage and I know that my mother would feel better if she didn't have to face a fine go between alone. If you're not too busy? I know it's Postern and a big celebration this year.” She looked shy suddenly, as if he'd say no?
“Would it be alright to have them here do you think? We can set up a separate dining room. I'll check with Collette.”
That got another bow, a solemn thing that faded into a grin after a few seconds.
“Would that be all right? I owe you so much already…” She looked odd for a second but didn't cast her eyes downward this time.
He nodded and smiled back at her.
“More than just alright. May have a few others there too though, I have family in town that you should meet for instance.”
That got a blush in response and a conversation that tapered off into silence after a few minutes. She finally turned to leave then, but turned back at the door.
“Um, Master Tor, sir?” She said softly.
“Just Tor, Lyn. You know that.”
“Um, yeah, would it be a OK, if… Well, if I called you brother?” She didn't look at him at all.
It was an incredibly weird thing to say, but Tor shrugged and nodded. Why not?
“I'd be pleased. Sister Lyn.”
The girl took a deep breath and bowed to him again.
“Good then, my brother…” Her voice sounded older then, darker somehow.
“This Baron Rochester? Don't play with him, don't hold back. Kill him. Someone is trying to assassinate you using him. I can't say who yet, I don’t know, but it's so clear the situation practically screams it.”
Then she turned and left.
Tor followed, but by the time he made it to the door, she was nowhere in sight.
What a strange thing for her to say.
It also made a lot of sense. It did seem a bit sophisticated for the Baron to come up with on his own, didn’t it? The man seemed impulsive, a hot head, like the kind of person that led his life by what he wanted at any given moment, not someone that would plan a trap carefully over weeks, leaving another person with only two ways out. Tor didn’t know who’d bother setting something like that up though. Had he really angered anyone that much? Ever?
He didn’t think so.
He went and got a snack, then sat in meditation for hours, practicing what he'd do the next day mentally. He didn't practice the dying parts, figuring that would take care of itself. Right? Instead he found what he needed to let go of in himself for everything to work and hoped it would be enough, when the time came. He made himself stretch and walk for a while, saying hi to everyone that he met, waving and smiling the whole time. A lot more people greeted him this time than at previous celebrations for some reason.
OK, it made sense; he’d invited most of them. That would probably do it. Also the Warden people were being a good influence, saying hello to everyone they met, everyone else was starting to follow suit as well. They were really good that way from what he’d seen.
Then, after night fell, Tor went to bed, actually laying in the dark alone for a while. Finally a form came and laid next to him, a soft voice in his ear.
“Don't die husband.” She whispered to him. So softly it was clear that Ali thought he was asleep. “I love you.”
Tor didn't reply, because he didn't want to lie to her. Not about the love part, but promising he wouldn't die may not be something he could back up. Instead he drove himself into a very deep state and tried for extra field strength. Shut off all fear and pain. Let go of his humanity and anything that might slow him down. He held his mind quiet then, waiting. Ready to do whatever it took to live.
He'd need it all.
The next morning he rose and shaved carefully, bathed and dressed in real clothing, a pair of fighting leathers in black, like what Kolb and his people wore. That way he could go “unencumbered” into the fight without being naked. It was slightly chilly for that. He didn't bother to eat anything, seeking the deepest state of mind he could instead. He had notes to hand out, so he wouldn't have to speak. Collette got one and handled the rest.
“See to these please?” He said darkly, with no expression at all. He thought the woman gasped, but couldn't pay attention to that yet. He had something to do first, didn't he? First he had to let go of his outer self. Become the true Tor. The one that waited. The bottom of the universe.
At eight he walked out in front of his own house and down the street to the left, a dirt path of packed earth between large magical dwellings, there were twelve of them in all. At the end of the row there was a stone square. It wasn't real he knew, not even focus stone. His mind found the pattern without stress or trying, feeling the magic behind it.
Ah.
This was Sam's. It was a good idea, an artificial stone space for events. The pattern was a little simple, but the illusion was solid. Tor just stood and waited at the appointed place. Not moving at all. A few people came after a minute. Though Tor didn't know who they were. Rather, He probably did, but he couldn't tell at the moment. At least he wasn't nervous.
Then why would he be? He was weakened. That was still true, but he could see it now, not perfectly, but there, inside him, was everything he needed to win. It would start with the Baron’s own fear. Tor forced a calm smile to his face, knowing it would look out of place and happy. Otherwise he didn’t even move.
Finally two men walked to the center of the space, one in red, the other all green. The red one turned and looked away from the center, to where a line of men with weapons, three deep, stood along one side. The Baron’s military forces? His guard? They all wore blue. The man himself walked out of their midst, looking huge even from across the square. Over seven foot tall and decently broad across the shoulders.
It would work against him, Tor knew.
There were people all around. More than Tor could be bothered to guess at. The man in green waved him forward gently when the man in red and the Baron walked to the center, before even calling anything out. The last time he'd seen that kind of thing, there had been more yelling.
When he stepped up to the center, ready to fight, ready to dive into his own mind, to truly lose himself to the deep, there was speaking. Tor could barely understand most of it at first, the Baron leaning over to hiss at him finally. The voice was deep and low, hidden from everyone, except perhaps the brightly clad people next to them. The man in red stiffened when he heard what was said.
“See that little boy over there? The black haired one that looks a bit like you? When I'm done killing you, I'm going to have my way with him. You think you're so smart? You and Smythe didn't even ask about boys, did you?” There was laughter then.
Tor glanced at the boy, who stood by two women, both of whom looked horribly drawn and tense. One he recognized a bit. She wasn't blue this time, but Lady Priscilla was the one on the left. She had a black eye, covered by a lot of make-up, but visible even from a hundred feet away. Tor waved, which got her to raise her hand tentatively.
It wasn't a greeting though. A few seconds later a large man in black velvet ran out into the square, a large casket following him, float plate on it, a true cargo plate, done in copper. He moved into place in from of the woman opened the lid, which got a gasp from the audience on that side.
Tor looked at the man in green next to him and gave a single nod.
“Note two please.” Tor spoke, his voice devoid of life. He said the words, but barely knew he spoke. It was the right call though, he could tell already. The fields around him were lining up.
The man nodded and took out the paper quickly.
“Sir Torrance Baker, Knight of the realm, the Wizard Tor, Counselor of magics, Troll of Galasia, offers this gold and funerary gear to the Lady Priscilla along with his condolences on the death of her husband.” The words from the man wearing green were powerfully loud, resonating enough that it would have been scary if Tor wasn't moving even deeper into his own mind, slowing everything around him.
The man backpedaled fast then and waved the fellow in red back too.
“Clear the field!” The man screamed. It sounded slightly scared for some reason. After a few seconds, running, the man in red yelled the same thing.
Then Tor attacked.
Or rather tried too. The giant Baron who'd just been taunting him, saying he was going to rape a little child that looked like Tor and liked to do that to young boys, actually ran backwards then, scrambling a hand under his nice black velvet clothing. He pulled a knife, which got a hiss from the crowd. People were calling something out, but it didn't matter. Tor watched the man move in slow motion.
It wasn't scary at all.
Tor was, he thought, running towards the man, who was at least trying to lunge at him, eighteen inch blade, thin and sharp looking, moving towards his head. Taking half a moment, Tor smiled. He felt like he was moving under water or something, his movements, heavy against the air, it pulled at him, slowing him greatly, but Rochester moved slower still.
This wouldn't, Tor knew, last long. He needed to end this fast or the man would simply kill him as promised. He rolled on the ground and focused all his attention on the other mans front leg, foot lashing out hard, snapping against the side of it, forcing it back faster than the man could adapt. It made a very deep popping sound.
Tor wasn't really sure, but he thought the other guy may have screamed about then. Well, what had he expected? Even if Tor had originally come for a happy little fist fight, the second the Baron pulled a weapon the game changed, didn't it? Tor scooted forward, very low to the ground, and kicked at the other knee. It wasn't as cool looking as what he'd done the time they met before, but it worked, making another snapping sound on the third kick, the blows not strong, but dead on target.
“Fuck you bastard!” The giant roared, trying to stab him again as he fell.
Tor just rolled to the left side, getting out of the way of the falling man. He was on the ground, but still fought, trying to sweep his long right arm out and slash Tor to ribbons. It was a good plan, except that Tor just rolled away and stood, gasping for breath. Walking carefully in a circle around the man, who tried to scramble in a circle and made the mistake of standing himself, Tor grinned.
“No, thank you.” The answer sounded flat to his own ears, soft and relaxed.
Tor jumped in and kicked, a high stomp for him, hitting the man in the tailbone, knocking him back to the ground. Sending the knife flying. He walked to the blade and looked around. Behind him stood the royal family, and a cohort of Royal Guards.
“Wensa, get this off the field will you?” He used a foot to slide the blade towards the woman in her purple and black uniform. Nodding, not even stepping on the stone of the court, she picked it up.
The rest of the fight was harder.
Not more dangerous. It was hard because the man started crying. It was pitiful. Tor almost wanted to quit, to let the man go and just tell him to fix his ways. But really, it was too late for that wasn't it? He'd just get a healing device and fix the damage. Then he'd be back. Or he'd abuse that boy. Going deeper, having roused from those depth by the action a bit, he made his decision.
Grimly, Tor moved in and kicked the man in the back of the head, over and over again, until he didn't move any more. Then he rolled him over and sighed.
“Goodbye Baron Diddles.” Tor said, not bothering to be quiet about it.
Then he started stomping on the man’s throat. It took… forever. Ten minutes or more, for the man to finally die. It was hideous. More horrible than he could bare, nearly. He already heard the man, standing behind him, laughing.
“Think you won? You just set off a chain of events you can't even imagine fool!” The voice chortled at him.
Tor just stood, mind ready, chest heaving, gasping for breath.
Waiting.
This probably didn't make sense to anyone else, but it did to him. If the man still had life in him, a healing device might just save him. By waiting like this, standing over him, not leaving the field, Tor was ensuring that option was off the table. The beating he'd somehow managed to deliver to the monster in front of him was severe, but it was this, just standing like he was, that was the actual murder. The seconds stretched out, turning to minutes.
The stench of death filled him then, worse than he'd ever encountered before, he ignored it. It would be around for a while after all.
About ten minutes later, maybe less, Rolph walked out onto the stone and slowly put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tor? Are you all right?” The words were ponderous, slow and almost unrecognizable as words at all.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his thoughts and let himself start to come towards the surface. He nodded but didn't explain why he stood, just waiting. This was something that he could talk about later, if need be. Maybe. No one would be able to understand though, would they? It wasn't just about protecting himself. If that had been the case, then he would have healed the man minutes ago himself and left already. Even if it meant being challenged again later by the guy.
But he hurt children. Tor nodded slightly then, knowing that he had to actually say something to his friend. Even if it didn't seem kind or good.
“We need to stay here for a few minutes and not let anyone else get to the body. Healing device…” He whispered the words, and his friend, looking scared, relaxed.
“Right.” Rolph turned and raised his right hand, there was no smile on his face, but his posture shifted, straightened and looked commanding suddenly.
“Royal physician, attend please?” He said loudly enough that everyone could hear.
Oddly enough the tiny dark woman that ran out in a white tunic and trousers, carrying a bag by her side, was Abbie, his great niece. She literally was a doctor, probably one of the best around even. Tor could see a trap there then. What if she insisted, as was her right and calling, on helping the man?
She did, of course.
For nearly an hour. Then she sighed and stood back, head bowed.
“He has passed and cannot be helped. I'm sorry.” She bowed, to Rolph first, then to Tor, who she took a step back from.
Tor got it.
He'd not only killed someone in front of her, but meant it. They didn't have violence in Afrak and before that point, she didn't really believe that her “Great-Uncle the Court Jester” could take a life. Then, he hadn't believed it himself. Not really. Not like this.
A minute later the King came forward and stood by him, the crowd had largely wondered off, except for the Baron’s military squad, who still stood nervously, as if waiting to attack. Finally Lady Priscilla walked over, the black haired boy, who looked about seven, and a twenty-something woman holding his hand, in tow.
“See Connor? He won't ever hurt you again, not ever.” Priscilla shook, but her words were firm. Tears moved down her face, the other woman’s too. The boy nudged the count with his foot.
Then he kicked the corps hard. It didn’t move.
Tor didn't have a problem with it, but the King looked at the boy, disproving.
“We should perhaps, not bait the Baron’s forces.” He said softly, looking at the three lines of blue clad men, who stiffened at the blow.
They didn't move though, a stirring coming from the far side of the square. Tor's side. He looked back to see what it was, his mind not quite making sense of it at first.
It was around two hundred people dressed in green and brown, holding force lances on the barons men. Tor had to look again though, because it wasn't just one side of the square, it was everyone, all around. It wasn't a few hundred, it was closer to a thousand, two thousand. The crowd had been a lot larger than he'd realized then, because most of them really had already just left.
Sighing Tor bowed in each direction, low and humble.
“It's fine. No need for violence. Give these men safe passage home please?” He said it loudly, but no one could hear him, not really, not until the King repeated it. Then it worked just fine.
Good.
No need to get anyone else killed that day. The Baron's forces probably didn't know why their old leader had to die that day. They'd come to see a dust-up, a giant fighting a little man, who they'd been told probably deserved the beating. Instead they'd witnessed this…
It left them at loose ends, no doubt.
Tor didn't know what to do next, not at all, but luckily for him, Rolph did. It involved whisking him away to the palace in a fast carriage. Tor didn't understand it all yet, his mind too deep still. Everything had started to move faster at least. Well, to him. It was still deadly slow, half speed it seemed, even as he crawled his way back up, fought to return to himself. For a few minutes he really wondered if he should. Life might just be easier if he stayed at the bottom of himself. No feelings, no desire to do anything…
But that couldn’t be. Tor had things to do. Like find who was trying to kill him so very hard, and why.
Finally, just as they landed in back of the palace itself, Tor came back to himself. The world reeked, but that was all right. He sighed. Rolph nodded at him, but didn't make him speak yet.
“I… Tor, what was that?” He said softly, after they settled to the ground, still sitting inside the carriage. “It wasn't… I don't know, it wasn't you. I didn't know you could move like that. Are you… Count Lairdgren?”
Tor blinked and shook his head.
“Nope, all me, unfortunately.” He took a huge shuddering breath. It tasted foul, of course. The scent of rot had infected his taste buds already.
Yummy.
“I have no clue where Burks is or I would have sent him instead, trust me… Did I… look strange?” It wasn't anything he'd thought of before. Still, he hadn't spoken or anything at first, had he?
“You know, Lyn offered to make herself look like me and fight him instead. She made a device to copy me. It's a solid work.” He was rambling but Rolph didn't stop him.
“He was going to… He said that Smythe and I forgot to ask if he liked little boys. He said he was going to rape that kid, when he was done killing me. I…” He shook his head.
“I couldn't risk it. He had to die.”
“The man was dead regardless Tor. Don't get me wrong, but if you'd lost, he wouldn't have walked out of that square alive. Did you see the look on his forces faces when everyone turned on them? Those people weren't armed like that to keep the peace. We may have to scramble to explain that many civilians with military weapons and shields though. I wonder how it happened?” His friend chuckled.
“Still, I doubt anyone will be challenging you to a fist fight any time soon. I nearly wet myself you know. Try not to scare me like that in the future will you?”
“Got it. Of course, if he let me pull out, or even run away, this wouldn't have happened.”
Then again, Tor knew, if he'd killed the man the first time, or even asked the right questions, Connor wouldn't have had months of abuse. It might have already been going on, or not, before then, but from the first time Tor met the Baron on, everything the man did wrong was on him too. Tor's fault.
Misery poured through him. Because in a very real way, every time the evil man had touched that child, it was like Tor had sanctioned it himself. That sent a shudder through him and finally caused tears to come to his eyes. He stammered an explanation to his friend, but Rolph got it. He didn't try to deny it either. Or say it wasn't his responsibility.
This time it just was.
It was the responsibility of any adult to stop such things, if they could.
And Tor had failed.
Finally he was walked in to a room in the palace proper that had a half dozen sofas and even more chairs set up. There was a nice red carpet with deep blue patterns along the edges. Flowers he thought. It was hard to pay attention to it. At least the tears dried before everyone started to come in.
“Hey everyone.” Tor said, almost no energy left in his voice at all. No big mystery there, he’d been burning all he had during the little event and pushing like an insane person.
Literally.
It wasn't absolutely everyone, just the royal family, his brother Weasel and his mother. Tor looked at her, as she scowled, and got ready for whatever harangue was no doubt coming. She took a breath and then…
Said nothing.
After a half minute or so she let her breath out, a shaking, almost shuddering sound and started crying. Silently, but with large fat tears that ran down her face, leaving bold glistening tracks.
“Here I was just afraid you were going to die. I'm so sorry Torrance.” Her words were dark and sad.
Then, she knew, at least a little, what he was going through and would face over this, didn't she?
Suddenly she was hugging him, the others holding back at first, letting his mother have a moment with him alone.
“Yeah, you and me both. It had to be done this time. I…” He waved his hands at Rolph, hoping he would explain, but it was a voice from the door that spoke, one he didn't recognize at all.
“He was… raping young Connor ma'am. I couldn't stop him. None could in the barony. The new missus, Lady Priscilla, she tried and was beaten horribly for it, over and again. She didn't stop though. Even when I thought he'd kill her at times. He used that to taunt Lord Baker, knowing as how he wouldn't abide by it. He told us all he would. Planned to use the Lord's current health to kill him.” The voice came from the twenty-something woman he'd seen earlier. He didn't recognize her from anywhere else, but she was tall, noble height easily and stood next to Priscilla and the boy, who looked at the floor, tears in his eyes as they spoke of it.
It wasn't his shame though. That belonged to the evil man that had done it… and Tor.
He stood and walked over to the boy, who was darker than he was, but lighter than most. Tor knelt first, then lowered himself all the way to the floor. Right cheek pressing the carpet and his own tears started again.
“I failed you by not finding out about him sooner. I had the chance and the right to question him and didn’t do it correctly. If I had, I would have killed him earlier. I cannot ask forgiveness, for it has not been earned. I ask only that if payment be required for my failure, that you assess the cost from me alone, not those I serve.” Then Tor went silent. So did the rest of the room.
The boy stared at him like he had a second head. That was fine, everyone else was too.
“How did you fail me?” Connor sounded baffled.
That got Tor to explain the whole thing, after he finished the boy held out a hand to him, to help him up. He had to pull hard for it to work, and Tor appreciated it, because he was starting to stiffen up a lot more than it seemed like he would. He could barely manage, and had to move to sit as soon as he could.
“Thank you sir. But I cannot accept your apology.” The boy sounded scared, and a gasp went up around the room.
Tor got that, those words were almost always followed by a declaration of war or a challenge to a duel. Obviously Tor couldn't fight a child, so, depending on what was done, it could be a death sentence for him. Possibly even if the kid just wanted to punch it out. Tor really didn't have a lot left. Still, if he demanded his life for the failure, well, Tor could understand that. He tried to ready himself, just in case.
“Connor?” Priscilla sounded scandalized and totally confused.
After a few seconds the boy nodded, “I can't accept an apology for something that wasn't his fault. That's wrong too. It wasn't his fault and letting him take blame for it would be wronging him. I won't let that happen.” The voice was regal then. Not bold, not powerful at all, but there was a quiet dignity to it.
Stronger than Tor would have been in the same position by far.
Tor nodded to him. He was being released from blame in this, by the only person that could do it. That didn't leave him feeling any better, and the room still smelled of corruption and death, but it would have to serve. Tor stood and bowed.
Then suddenly sat again, nearly falling. Ouch. Everything was sore. It was just muscle pain at least, from pushing too hard like that. He'd live.
No one said anything for a long time and finally the boy moved to the woman next to him and hugged her like a small child. Which he was.
“Nanny, can we go and see the parade?” He spoke softly, as if he might not be allowed.
The Queen smiled then.
“That's not until this afternoon, but if you like you can watch with us from our box? It should have a fine view.”
The boy froze, then after a minute and a covert push to his left shoulder from Nanny, he bowed.
“Thank you ma'am, that offer is most welcome and kind.”
It was a bit of a relief for Tor when they left, to get a snack and rest after the trials of the morning, leaving him only with his family and friends.
Weasel shook his head and made a face.
“Remind me not to get in a shoving match with you, huh?” He grinned and gave Tor a small hug with a bit of back pounding.
“Can I have one of your fast carriages? If yes, is it all right if I make copies of it? I have an idea for a special transport service I can run out of school in Printer, if I can get a hold of one.” It was a blunt statement, and everyone in the room stared at the boy, not yet Twelve.
Tor shrugged.
“You can make copies without a template?”
The boy grinned and pulled a force lance from his pocket and handed it to Tor without pause.
It was still a bit of a risk, but Tor let his field brush it.
“Oh ho!” Tor would have jumped to his feet, but didn't. That would have hurt too much.
Everyone else looked at him, but Rolph was the one that asked.
“He copied it?”
“No, Rolph, it's not a copy. It's not a force lance even, it's… What is it Weasel? An air river?”
“Something like that.” The boy smiled but didn't break eye contact at all.
Tor sighed.
“It's a novel build. It's his too. He built it. Alone as far as I can tell. He hasn't even gone to school for it…” If there was awe in his voice, well, there should have been. That and pride, tears came to his eyes again.
Stupid tears, always making him look like a little girl.
“Builder Weasel.” Tor intoned seriously, tilting his head in a nod.
“Builder Baker” The King gave a half bow to the boy.
Then everyone else followed suit.
Tor shrugged again, which actually hurt a bit now and stretched a little, hands going up towards the ceiling, back arching for a bit. It didn't really help anything, but he still had things to do that day and wasn't really strong enough to risk a healing yet, so he'd need to just deal and that meant keeping in motion if he didn't want to freeze up.
“OK… Mom, I'm keeping Timon with me for the time being, so we can drill on building skills until he goes off to school. If that's all right? I'll have to attach him to the Lairdgren group for now, so that Lyn Cooper can watch out for him. She's solid, which reminds me…”
He shared the fact that a go between was coming to visit, for Lyn and that he could use a little help, being a bit out of his depth. Sure, Lyn had her own mother, but Tor had never met the woman and had a sneaking suspicion that she might not be a secret noble or high merchant, ready to deal with such things easily.
That got his own mother to volunteer her services. Kind of as Tor had hoped. She was bossy and overbearing, sure, but she'd protect a young girl that needed help. Or boy for that matter. Tor didn't doubt that at all.
He got up and started pacing, which got funny looks after a second, mainly from Connie and Karina.
“Oh, I'm getting stiff, I kind of pushed things earlier, I don't know if I can explain it…” He shrugged and then spread his hands.
Karina stood too and started walking with him.
“No doubt. I figured you'd just come up with some new kind of magic, to tell the truth. Fair after he pulled a knife though, so no one is going to cry foul. You didn't though did you? What did you do? Some kind of combat trance? I know that you freaked out the seconds, I've never seen any of them run from a field before, not even when someone has gone into a rage.”
Had he looked frightening? Tor doubted it. He smiled and shrugged.
“I paid them to do that.” He said simply. It was the truth after all. A simple bribe.
Well, a really expensive one, but it kind of worked.
Everyone laughed, except Rolph, “seriously?”
No one else was taking it as real, but Tor nodded and told them he really had. Just to freak out the Baron. After all, if the man got more scared, or even angry, it wouldn't make him a better fighter. What did he have to lose?
“Same reason for the casket and all the gold for Lady Priscilla. I wasn't planning on killing him originally. Just scaring him into either giving up or making a mistake. He did, but before that. If he would have just bowed and kicked my behind I'd probably be dead or in bed right now, thanking the universe for letting me survive.”
It was just the truth, but no one else seemed to get it. Oh well. Tor just asked if anyone wanted to go and make the rounds of events with him. After all, he had to keep moving and was, what, tenth down on the list of who was responsible for the day?
That got a laugh and a collection of people to go around with him, including a host of disguised Royal Guards, Rolph and Karina. They hit up his house and earned a few more people, and had a group of twenty going around before noon. Tor smiled and waved to people, and got a lot of hugs from women on the street for some reason. He stopped in to Debbie's bakery, which was hugely busy even before everyone tried to cram in.
“Tor!” Box called out from the back happily. “Come to rescue me from all this finally? I have to make another two hundred loaves of Postern bread, I could use the help…” He chuckled though, looking a lot like a tall version of Tor's own brothers. Actually Todd was nearly as tall, come to think of it, however that worked.
“Can't, I'm afraid, I have commitments, Hmmm…” He looked around the room and shrugged. Kari couldn't do it, since she was “working” later too. She was watching Box a little warily, though as far as Tor knew the man, a notorious woman hunter, had never more than casually asked her if she wanted to do something.
Still, if she was uneasy, it wouldn't do to force her.
“Weasel, care to lend a hand?” Tor half expected his brother to either politely beg off, or whine, but instead he smiled and gave Box a nod.
“Yeah, I got it. Smells like sugar cranberry?” He said, his clothing transforming into what looked like homespun bakers clothing, a slightly poorer version of what Box himself wore. Just about perfect for a kid working in a bakery like this.
“Right you are, with dried cherries in too, a specialty of mine…”
They kept talking as they headed towards the back.
“Weasel, someone will be back to get you before dinner. I want you in with us, since Lyn's your new best friend.”
Then without waiting for an answer, Tor ran into the other room, if a slow, old man looking shuffle counted as running, and found Debbie. He didn't say anything, just gave her a hug.
“Hey, come by later? We never get to visit. Tomorrow maybe? I mean if you don't want to visit with us for dinner tonight. You should though. Box too. At nine? I won't be there though, so it doesn't count for a real visit mind, but it should be a grand celebration. Oh, do you know which house is mine? Otherwise you'll end up sitting with a bunch of strangers, instead of all my people…” Which were, of course, largely strangers to her…
Tor laughed, “Duh, just follow Tim there, my little brother? He's helping out in the bakery for the day.”
Debbie gave him a look, one that spoke of being busy and a little stressed, but finally let that break and hugged him.
“OK, you forced my hand. We'll come. This is the busiest Postern ever though. I blame you for that. Kari?” She walked over and gave the girl a hug, which got Rolph to spread his arms too, laughing.
“Debbie!” He called, sweeping her into his arms.
She chuckled, and gave him a hug too, but clearly didn't recognize him. Well, they had only met the once and he'd had a different haircut then.
From there, leaving his little brother they headed out, watching the events as they walked around the city, making a slow circuit that took hours, not even hitting half of it. Their trip ended up going out the south gate, near his house, since a lot of things had been set up out that way. There were people singing, Postern bread being handed out for free from stands set up along the way and plays that showed the spirit of the holiday.
That part was different from place to place. In Two Bends and that whole part of the kingdom, Postern was a day to celebrate family, with quiet contemplation and discussion being as common as not, or a host of sedate games, ending in a nice meal. Apparently in Ward it was done differently, since everyone from there, and the south in general, had set up in a huge empty building, one of the magical ones, that had a giant bonfire inside. Tor didn't even have to test it with his mind to get the idea.
It was a Guide-fire. Only huge. So a new build. It felt like the boy when Tor walked a little closer. Brilliant. It kept the space warm no doubt, provided light and ambiance, without the danger of setting anything on fire or troublesome smoke to get in eyes or lungs. Tor clapped when he saw it, but no one else really got why. After all, a magical fire didn't seem all that special in a magical house, but it really was. The boy couldn't have spent more than a few days doing the work after all.
Most builders couldn't have done it.
Musicians played already and people were doing odd group dances, the girls separated off from the men for some reason. It must be specific to the event, he decided, since the Warden people certainly didn't break off into groups like that for dancing at home that he'd ever seen.
Maria squealed and took all the girls off, coordinated their clothes to match, light blue dresses and bare feet, then led them all in a dance around a pole. It was cute, but Tor didn't get it. Still, the other men clapped in time, so he joined in. Things were always more fun if you took part. Rolph followed along, led by Count Ward of all people.
When they finished the giant man with his dark skin and annoyingly good looks shifted his clothing to only a pair of short pants and hollered to the room.
“There is no ocean, so to the river!”
Then they had to run. Not fast at least, or Tor would have been in real trouble. As it was he kind of had to limp along. Tor gasped a bit, but didn't have to float along, so decided to feel pretty proud of what he’d managed. The meditation on his own field really made a huge difference. He decided to try and keep that up as a regular practice, if he could.
At the river, they were supposed to jump in. Sighing, Tor did it. The water was cool at first, for a half second, then it was fine. Apparently they had to sing too, even though most of the men, about three hundred of them, that jumped into the water, didn't know the words. It was kind of fun anyway. After a while almost everyone was laughing and coming out of the water, then running back into the warm building. Tor didn't feel the cold, neither did the others with him.
Rolph slapped Tor on the back as he walked back in.
“So what next?”
“Maskers. I think. About that time.”
“Oh? Well that sounds fun!” The Prince looked at everyone around him and laughed, since all the men were soaking wet still.
It really did look funny. Like a herd of drowned rats or something. A pack of rats? Honestly Tor didn't know.
Tor cycled his clothing a few times, causing most of the water to fall off. It absorbed a bunch of water and then let it go each time the field shifted. It made the ground wet, but no one cared. A few people did the same thing and that got some attention from the others. At first Tor wondered if people thought he was showing off, but then he overheard someone say his name and everyone in the crowd stared for a bit.
“Darn tough. I'd be hiding in my house shaking after that. Bit cold though.” A man said, from the back of the crowd.
They were always at the back of the group, those people that muttered things like that, Tor had seen it before. Heard it. He waved towards them.
“Not tough, and you might find yourself stronger than you think, when it comes down to it. But I have responsibilities today. Can't let that go just so I can shake and shiver. I plan to do that later though. It’s all just a matter of timing.” He smiled when he said it, but no one else said anything about him being there at least.
They climbed into carriages, the old style ones, drawn by horse, to get back to the palace in time for the parade of Maskers to come by, all wore different looking face masks, some decorated heavily, a few in all white, some with smiles others frowns and one was simply a blank white piece with eye holes.
They did a play that stopped and ran around the whole of the city, each group moving on as their scene was done, all the scenes the same short snippet of time. About thirty seconds, then they walked for a minute and did it again. But if you stayed in place, you saw the whole thing. It was the story of the first Postern day.
How a man all in green saved the land of Noram from the great cataclysm for his friend, a giant in purple and gold. Then the giant ruled, and ruled, the years passing by. Other stories were worked throughout. Even the tale of Doretta and Count Wylde. There were a couple that Tor didn't know at all, stories that made the royals smile or nod to each other, but Tor just had to smile and laugh when everyone else did, because it didn't make sense to him.
Then over six sections, the Maskers from Galasia did their version of “the saving of the city” apparently adapted from the children's play. The one in which the mean little troll Tor had to be bribed, cajoled, begged, and in this one, berated and mildly beaten by Sara Debri to impart the magical devices which cleaned the city's water supply and in this new version, conned into fixing the city’s sewer system by Ferdinand Gala. It involved a pretty clever trick and the substitution of a straw filled dummy for his own daughter, Meryl. The little masked troll seemed happy enough with her.
By the time the sixth and final second moved on everyone in the royal box was staring at him. He wasn't in that section, choosing to sit with his mother and the Wards, who seemed to have hit it off for some reason. Possibly plotting to get him.
At least Maria was championing him.
“I can't believe they did that. It's…” She shook her head, and for once instead of claiming someone should go to war or anything like that, she just sighed and shook her head.
“If nothing else they should pay attention to who's paying them, don't you think?”
The Count looked over his shoulder and shrugged.
“I think they are, actually. Think about it, how many plays are there that have Tor as the main character? They probably picked up that this was all being paid for by him and just went with the only one they knew of, to honor him.”
Tor's mother laughed though.
“Ah, ah… You'll give him a big head. I'm sure they just thought it was funny, which to anyone that knows my son, it truly is. After all, a troll? And needing to be begged to help people? None of my children would be that cold and Torrance is always generous to a fault.” She didn't sound displeased by any of that, even if she was talking about him as if he wasn't sitting right there.
It always bothered him when people did that. Which she knew.
Tor didn't say anything though, because everyone else was having a good time, why spoil it? Tor just forced a grin and shrugged.
“What? I have the dummy in my house. I call her “Missy Gala”.”
Everyone that could hear him chuckled politely at least. Maria sighed and touched his arm gently.
“Best troll ever.” She whispered, not unkindly.
After the parade a carriage flew over the city, followed by seven more. Slowly, like they were landing at the palace itself, instead of in the street in front of it, behind the Maskers procession. They were all done in purple and gold, the royal colors. After the first one settled the others did too, in a line, a single file of crafts in the street, then Kolb and his people all climbed out, a single, much smaller, figure with them.
Denno Brown.
He was dressed in brown, but the clothing was fine, incredibly so. After a second Tor got that, understanding magic or not, the man was dressed in clothing from a device. Well, that could only be good for him, couldn't it. Branching out like that?
“Attend all!” Kolb bellowed loudly.
Tor did at least. The guy looked ready to give a speech or something, dressed in more finery himself than the man had in the whole time they'd known each other.
“Attend all to the news! Glost Serge, the leader of Austra is dead. Daria Serge, his likely successor is also dead! Austra has declared peace. The war is over!” It was loud at least and took a few seconds to sink in.
The war was over?
Tor stood, stiff and uncomfortable from the hour and a half of sitting already, and cheered. It was a hoarse and weak thing, but heartfelt.
“The war is over!” He screamed as best he could, several times.
Then everyone else did too.