Tor froze.
Who was dead? His mind flitted from one possibility to another rapidly. The royal family? Rolph wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so it could be that or… His family? The idea terrified him more than he cared to think about. Luckily he didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
“We were poisoned, my parents, me, several of the estate servants. Mom and dad didn’t last the night. I… lost the baby and nearly died myself. I just didn’t have as much of the poison I guess. It was in an old bottle of wine, and I only had a few sips, because of the… baby. Other things were poisoned, the wine for the staff too. They have different bottles, the staff, so someone had to have targeted them specifically for some reason.”
She continued then, how it wasn’t just them, but eight other families as well, all on the same day. Two more had been spared, because they’d had and used poison detectors at home. Sara hugged him again, dislodging Ursala this time.
“One of the families that escaped… it was Ridley’s. You know, the first one that you gave detectors to? It saved them all.”
Tor had to think back, but not that hard, “Oh, right, one of the guys that Trice said she was going to have sex with in front of me to prove what a spineless wimp I am? Didn’t he say that his parents were afraid that Count Ward was coming after them? I mean, really, that’s why I didn’t even bother to think about giving him the stuff, because I’m not overly fond of Ward right now…”
Ah.
Ursala sat in one of the chairs and swallowed.
“Right in one. It took everyone else days to put it together, you were working, or we could have asked you earlier. But Ward’s a sitting Count, so it’s, well, if proved it’s an act of war. Worse really, treason, because we’re already at war. This took out two Counts, a Baron and two Knights. Plus servants and others, so many others… Rolph had to go to the Capital to help with all this and show a strong front to the Austrans so they won’t use the turmoil as an excuse to attack.” She shook, holding herself tightly. Tor felt awkward about it, but patted her back lightly until she could continue.
“If this had happened during a time of peace, I think that the Wards would be gone by now. As it is a lot of people are calling for their deaths.”
Sara looked down at the table and move fluidly into the chair next to him.
“Kolb nearly led the combat students from the school on an attack of Wards forces. It took a direct order from the King to get him to stand down and that’s only temporary. Rolph told me that his father was probably tempted to send them in anyway. It’s the second largest group of trained flying fighters you know. Only the King’s military has more… Sorry, of course you know. You outfitted them all. But it isn’t going to take the students at the school that long to realize that the King’s orders don’t apply to them directly in this, not all of them. He only told Kolb not to attack yet. Karen was popular with the combat types and already a Knight at twenty. Do you know how hard it is for a girl to get the title? She must have been tough.”
Karen?
“What? Karen Derring?” God let it be some other Karen. It was a common enough name after all…
“Yes. She was one of the Knights that died. Her younger brother David was poisoned, same thing, bottle of wine. He lived though. They were in their County on a weekend trip, since they could fly back and forth. No one could figure out what the connection to Ward was at first, since it wasn’t to Count Ward at all, but the Countess, his wife Maria.” Sara put her right hand on top of his left, the skin warm to the touch for a brief flash, until the temperature regulated.
“When Maria was at school, when she said those things to you, and those older girls pulled her away? Well, they didn’t just pull her out the door. Apparently they beat her pretty soundly for being so vile to you. One of the other girls was poisoned too, her husband died, but she survived. A Countess. Um, Printer I think?”
Maria? But… why? Yes, being beaten was no fun, but to come back years later and try to kill them over it? For that matter why go after Ursala and her family at all?
Maybe Ursala read the look on his face or maybe she was just filling in the blanks for him, the she seemed to follow his train of thought either way.
“It makes sense in a warped fashion. She goes after the girls that beat her, the woman that got pregnant by her husband, a Count that had thwarted her husband in business and so on. Nothing really deserving of death, unless you’re a self-serving little bitch that’s jumped over most of her family and friends through marriage, and bristles at the idea of the whole world not worshiping at your feet. Then it starts to make a bit of sense. In an insane and illogical way. But insanity and logic don’t always go hand in hand.”
That got Tor to start nodding a bit, slowly, thinking hard.
“Then when I was attacked and poisoned earlier this year…” It made sense. Not because he’d be any kind of special target for the Wards himself, just because he was an easy test subject, someone to practice on.
That was where Sara differed from him in opinion, she laid out a very different scenario without waiting for him to say more.
“Yes, you had to have been really eating at her for a while now. First, not only did you manage to recover from her insults all those years ago, the slanders and attacks she put out about you, you became, well… Tor. The Tor. Then suddenly you turn out to be a Squire and a Countier, with your fortunes growing to a point where even a Count might be jealous. On top of that, you’d offered to marry Ursala when she was in trouble. You didn’t mean it that way, but it was a slap in the face to Maria most likely. That story made the rounds, and really, a lot of people still talk about it. It’s the kind of thing that starts legends you know. A good man stepping in to make things right when a less noble one won’t even try… And in this case the less noble man is her husband and a Count, so…”
Tor laughed. Not a big laugh, but a dark one that might as well have been crying. He wouldn’t go into how little it had done for him with Trice. This situation was way to serious for him to dwell on that kind of crap. It was bigger than him by far.
“OK, so what’s the plan?” Tor waited, but neither one spoke to him for a minute, finally Ursala gave him a vague answer that caused more questions than it answered.
“I can’t say much here, but Tor, the King already has agents in place with Ward. It wasn’t easy to get them in and I was only told because of my parents. So that I didn’t launch an all out attack yet. I can’t say any more, sworn to secrecy on the matter, but if there’s any way to get at this we will. I know you must be angry about them hurting you but-”
He snorted. Angry?
“It’s really just as likely that Trice did it. She really didn’t want to be married to me. I didn’t go after her for it, why should I go after someone that I’ve already, I don’t know, forgiven is wrong. I haven’t forgiven Maria. Come to peace with? I don’t blame her. I just learned that I wasn’t worth very much. I mean the girl was a stupid fourteen year old at the time for god’s sake. With Trice, well, that was way worse. Even if…” He shrugged. Nothing else he could say would help and it would just distract from the situation at hand.
Both of them seemed awfully sure that it wasn’t Patricia Morgan behind the attacks on him, so he let it go. The girl was obviously at least known to both of them and they didn’t want to think that ill of their friend. Well, he didn’t want to think it either, but there didn’t seem to be a lot of choice. At least Trice should have left off trying to kill him, now that the engagement had been broken. He hadn’t even pursued her parents in his anger, or her for that matter.
Probably because he lacked a spine. But yet, here he was, walking upright and everything.
He let it go. The fact was, Tor had a lot of work to do and needed sleep to do it. A deep work state may keep the need for sleep in abeyance for a while, just like it lowered his need for food and water, but it didn’t eliminate it all together and now that he’d eaten, he was exhausted.
It took him a few minutes to explain, but he got into bed after that, letting them know that when he woke up he’d probably be taking a break for a few days if he could. He slept deeply for a while, then had troubling dreams of women saying things to him that he didn’t understand. Telling him that they were innocent, but he didn’t know what they were supposed to be guilty of. Trice he kind of understood, but Maria Ward was there too and… Connie.
It was dark when he woke up. Pitch black. That didn’t mean it was night, but that seemed likely, since he could hear deep breathing in the room with him. Not wanting to wake anyone he tabbed the light next to his bed to the lowest setting, a bare glow that was just enough to see the hands of the clock by. Four-eleven in the morning. Well, if he was on to bake that day he needed to get up and go to work.
He went and cleaned up, putting on his oldest pair of school browns before heading to the kitchen, walking slowly still. He’d need more exercise before he’d recover enough for speed he knew. Way more.
In the kitchen, on a blackboard, written in bright white chalk, there was a list of what was needed for the day. Fifty loaves of bread, assorted sweet rolls and some cookies. It didn’t describe what kind of cookies, so he figured that it was up to his discretion. Bread first of course, since it would have to rise. He had to make ten large batches of dough, but at least they had the bowls for it. Huge things made of the glossy compressed dirt substance that everything seemed to be made of here.
While that was rising he worked on dough for the rolls, sweet rolls for desert, and then got the bread into the baking pans for the second rising as he started to work on the rolls themselves. They didn’t have a lot of cinnamon, so he used orange peel instead, as well as a hint of clove. There was plentiful sugar and butter, which was kept in the big cool room. Just as those where going into the rack near the ovens to rise he decided to start getting the bread in.
It was about six-thirty when the room started to fill up, the bread not yet out, but plenty of space left for the rest of the food. Even if some of the ways they were cooking looked odd to him. Bizarre really. They boiled water for the eggs by putting big pans in the oven on the side away from the bread, which he got to pull out about then anyway and put aside into racks for cooling. That was good, because the water vapor would have made the bread crust chewy, not a horrible thing, but this was the wrong kind of bread for that. The rolls would just have to wait. Chewy sweet rolls would suck. His were meant to be light and fluffy, with a flaky crust. He hoped they wouldn’t over proof in the mean time.
Nothing was fried, because there wasn’t a stove top in the room, all they had were ovens. Tor hadn’t thought about it before, but of course a griddle or stove top could be done easily enough. Those could even be turned on and off. The oven plates needed to be inside the ovens and were too hot to touch… because, Tor realized, he was a moron. Oh, it worked out all right with these huge things that took days to get up to temperature, they’d have to stay on anyway.
Smaller units could have controls on the outside, and so could griddles and warming pots. He’d already done things with remote activation like that. The control for the flying rigs for instance. The actual flight field was on the amulet worn around the neck, not the one on the hand used for control.
As Tor lamented his own stupidity and lack of forethought, the man he’d talked to the day before wondered in to the kitchen looking blurry and tired. He had a cup of something in his hand that smelled familiar, the same stuff that he’d been given for combat rage reaction. This guy just looked hung over to his untrained eye. Maybe it worked for that too?
“Hey. New guy, you actually showed? And did something useful? Smells good even. I don’t suppose that the military would let you out of whatever you’re doing now so you can come work here each day, would they? What do they have you doing anyway, building furniture?” The last bit was, Tor realized, almost like asking people in the country what they did for a living… farm? Everyone around here built furniture, or other needed supplies, so of course Tor would too, right?
“No, I build field devices, magic, and I really think that the military would whine if I tried to stop doing it. I don’t actually work for them though, unlike most of the people around here. I decided to take a break for a few days and they can just deal, you know? Anyway, we need to get the sweet rolls in as soon as the pots of water come out, or they’ll over-proof. Sure, that’s no great horror for this type of product, but too much and it will destroy the texture. I’ll start on the cookies next.”
The man took a sip of his beverage and grinned.
“Heh, Sorlee will like that, this practically gives her the day off. I’ll have to find something for her to do or she’ll get in trouble.”
Before Tor could ask who Sorlee was a young woman walked into the room. She was cute in a young, un-made up way, tending towards very small and thin, making her look pretty youthful compared to what he guessed her actual age was. Maybe fifteen or so? She barely came up to Tor’s chin. The girl smiled when she saw him and the head cook, walking over like she owned the place.
“S’hey ‘on, tought baky m’job. Y’sir’da baky pro’per n’like?” The girl put her hand out to shake with him, so he grinned and returned the move.
“Sorry, Sorlee here doesn’t speak standard very well yet. She can read it well enough, so I just put the information about what we need on the board there, which you obviously saw already. She’s a good girl, got brought in as a prostitute by mistake, seemed to think she’d hired on as a cleaning girl or something? No one can really understand her, so she ended up in here.” The man just shrugged and gave the girl a grin.
Tor looked at her and pointed at the rolls. Speaking in a dialect that, if not exactly like hers was close enough to make her eyes go wide, he told her that the rolls needed to go in the oven as soon as the eggs were done.
“Wow! Someone that can actually talk properly! Are you the new baker? I’ve just been coming in here and working every day for the last two weeks, hoping I wouldn’t be beaten into being a whore. I mean, I knew what I was being hired on for, but when I got here, all the men were so big… I kind of knew they would be, but their mainly that big all over, and it hurt, because I was a virgin when I got here, you know? I feel bad about going back on my word to work for them, leaving them a girl short like that, but until I get used to it I don’t think I can do what they want really. I guess if they’ve got you, I better start training up though. That bread really does smell good too. Better than what I’ve been making. Hey, do you need an assistant or something for a while?”
Tor tilted his head, which made her face fall. It took him a second to realize that she thought he hadn’t understood her. That or that he was going to send her back to being a prostitute right away. She seemed a little young for the job to his mind, but if she needed the work, things were probably pretty dire back home.
“I’m not the new baker, just helping out for a couple of days while I have time off. Not a lot else to do around here and it’s good to keep the skills up you know. Oh, I’m Tor Baker by the way.”
“I’m Sara-lee Farmer. So you’re a for real baker?”
“By birth, however, I can’t leave the job I’m doing for the military right now, making magic devices, what I can do, is help you learn baking well enough to get along here pretty easily and maybe understand standard well enough that no one will make you do anything you don’t want to. If you don’t want to work at the… ladies house here, you don’t have too. No one will force you to. I won’t let them.” He straightened and gave her a matter of fact nod. He was responsible for the women coming here in the first place, so it was his duty to make sure none of the girls were ever abused or made to do anything they didn’t want to. Obviously.
The head cook just looked at him amazed, so Tor explained what they’d been talking about. The man’s eyes bulged a bit when he learned that Sara-lee, Tor corrected the name carefully, but told him that he’d been saying it correctly for her ear as Sorlee, seemed to be intent to continue on as a whore, just as soon as she could practice a bit and get used to it. It was, she told them, a matter of honor. She’d contracted to do it and even if it flew in the face of everything she’d been taught at home, it was what she’d do.
For now though, she really was needed more as a baker, the cook told her which he confirmed with Tor, and offered to go make it right with the mistress of the bases little house.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go later and deal with it. Probably closer to my job than yours anyway, since it was my idea to bring the ladies in the first place.”
“You’re idea?” The man seemed skeptical again. Well at least he wasn’t calling him a child. The beard was really helping in that department.
“Yeah, that and getting the cargo haulers for people so that the men can get into town. I haven’t seen one in operation yet, do they have them working do you know? I made enough plates for ten of them but I’ve been so busy on a project for a while…”
The man gave him a pained look and suggested that he go and see Godfry about those, if he wanted to see one working. Tor had to get directions to the right place, and decided to go look in the afternoon, in the mean time they needed to get to work on the cookies. He decided on a crisp walnut with dried apple chunks in as well, for flavor. They turned out pretty well and Sorlee wrote down the recipe so that she could repeat it later, which Tor took as a compliment to his work. By ten they had all the rolls and cookies out and cooling, ready to be put to use for lunch and dinner.
Since it was part of her normal duties Sorlee was given food to take to Tor’s house. Cook told Tor that no one else wanted the job, because the Prince was staying there and no one wanted to risk ticking him off, afraid he’d fly into a combat rage and kill them, or give them permanent kitchen duty for looking at one of the women there funny or something. No one had been able to explain to Sorlee who he was yet, so she didn’t mind running errands there at all. Before they got to the door she tidied her skirt, brushing out any flour or wrinkles and patted at her hair a little. It was cute the way she primped, her face very serious about the whole thing. The skirt she wore was a plain gray thing and her blouse a color that he’d probably describe as “blah”, one popular in the regions they both came from. It was clearly country village clothing, but worked well enough for her current position as kitchen help.
The girl dimpled at him warmly.
“I don’t understand much of what people around here are saying, but this is the important place, I know that. Most of the men are afraid to come here, even though the red haired giant boy is always nice to me when I make deliveries. The pretty blond woman is really nice too. I think there are some other people here too, because this is the place the magic comes from, unless the red giant is the magic fellow? I don’t think so though, because he always comes to the door right away when I call out. So maybe he’s the magic guys brother, or son, or something?”
Tor debated keeping Rolph’s title from her, but figured that would be mean. It wasn’t a secret or anything. Not here.
“No, the red haired giant boy is Prince Alphonse Cordes, heir to the throne of Noram. He’s a good guy though, so try not to hold that against him. He’s not here right now, off in the Capital. Some important people were poisoned and he has to help clear that up, I think. The blond woman is the daughter of a big merchant house called Debri. Her name’s Sara, like yours, but she pronounces it all funny. “Sah-ra” not correctly like you do. But she’s OK too. Nice enough. Both friends of mine, though I kind of had a fight with Sara, when one of her best friends said mean things about me which caused us to break off our engagement. Her friend, I mean, Trice. I wasn’t engaged to Sara. We seem to be getting along better now.”
Sorlee stared at him.
“Someone broke up with you? Why? Do you drink or something? Beat on her? You don’t seem like that type.” The girl eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds then smiled. “You’re good looking and can bake, so you have a good career and all. She must be silly if she thinks she’s going to do better.”
Tor grinned.
“Ah now, see, I should have gotten you to talk to her first then. She’s a royal though, Trice, so different standards for things I guess. That was months ago, so I need to move past it, right?”
Tor walked in without stopping so Sorlee did the same her eyes going wide when they got inside.
“Wow this place is… This must be the nicest place in the whole world!”
A few months before, less than a year at least, he would have thought the very same thing himself. It was decorated pretty well, which had nothing to do with him, or if he had it right, Rolph either. Sara maybe? He’d have to ask.
Both the women sat at the shiny black table, a dark red cloth had been put over the top, which made it warmer and a little less oppressive looking. The legs still showed and looked like highly polished stone. Ursala smiled at him when he walked in and Sara waved at Sorlee. That made sense, the entire compound having only a few women. Tor doubted that any of the rest of them were as short as the girl at his side making her easy to identify too.
They put the food on the table carefully, unpacking the high sided tray things that the food was being carried in. Neither of them had eaten in the kitchen, so Tor gestured for the girl to sit next to him. He gave her the small chair and took one of the large ones, because she was a guest. It was important to make guests feel comfortable, right? Even the Queen had gone out of her way when he was a guest and the difference in real position between him and a farm girl, who was also a baker and a prostitute in training, was a lot closer socially if you counted it up logically.
Practically the same really.
He made the introductions carefully, but honesty enough. Ursala seemed a little shocked that Tor asked her to sit with them, but Sara just smiled and offered the girl a plate, telling her to help herself to the food. Everyone had to eat after all. Sara was good like that. Accepting people of different classes easily. It probably came from being a born merchant. Anyone could be a potential costumer after all, so it made sense to get along with everyone, didn’t it?
Tor largely translated while they ate, letting the others talk. He snagged one of the orange rolls for himself, the icing was still a little gooey and the rolls just warm enough to be perfect. Ursala was surprised when Sorlee told Tor how good they were. That went into the story of what he’d been doing that morning which turned into the tale of how Sorlee came to be at the compound.
“Right,” she started the tale when it started, with her father getting hurt when a tree he’d been cutting down with her brothers fell the wrong way. “So, he was busted up pretty bad, and we had to call the doctor in, which costs a lot. That, plus losing his work and a less than great harvest and we were looking at a pretty lean winter. It snows where we live, up north a long ways. So I left home, which means one less person to feed and that way I could find some work to help pay things off so next winter won’t be so bad for everyone. I tried cleaning at first, but cleaning girls don’t get paid much, so I found the madam and made a deal with her. I couldn’t understand it all, but that I get twenty percent of what I bring in, plus room and board and that I get to keep any tips I get fair and full. It’s a lot more money than I’d make cleaning for sure. Only so far I haven’t been doing so well at it. She’s been nice enough, but then I’ve been avoiding her. Mr. Baker said he’d go and talk to her and let her know what’s going on, so’s I won’t be beaten into it and can start gradual like. Get used to it in a way that won’t leave me too sore to do anything for weeks on end.”
The conversation after that went way differently that Tor had thought it would. Instead of shock and outrage at an innocent young girl having to sell herself like that, which Tor had to admit was kind of what he felt about the whole thing, or alternative suggestions as to how to make money, say telling her to have Tor just give it to her for instance, which was what he’d been expecting, the women gave her tips to make having sex easier.
Ursala in particular.
“Well, now that your hymen is broken, all you probably need is a bit of practice and to use lubrication. Some oil will work, cooking oil if you don’t have anything else though I’m sure that the madam has some just for that, it’s what prostitutes pretty much have to do. Too hard to get turned on for each man after all, no matter how wonderful they are. Just use it before you have a client, really, best to do that before they come into the room even. That will leave them with the illusion that they enthuse you personally which men like. Actually pretty much everyone likes to feel appreciated and desirable… Just rub it right inside yourself. You’ll have to clean up each time, but then I imagine you will anyway. Has anyone discussed how not to get pregnant?”
That conversation, which Tor kind of had to stay for, being the translator, opened his eyes more than a little. Ursala certainly knew how to prevent pregnancy at least. Why she hadn’t, Tor didn’t get, but given everything didn’t ask either. He’d rather live without the information than cause her pain in the memory.
Well, embarrassing or not, the girl needed to know things like that, and if the prostitutes couldn’t help her out because of the language barrier, he’d have to. Even if that did mean risking a stroke from all the blushing he was doing. No one teased him about it at least.
What they did do, which he thought was pretty kind of them, considering that they’d just met Sorlee and all, was go with them to the back of the compound to where the… houses, were set up. It was just late enough in the day that the mistress was awake and they didn’t even have to wait long to see her. She came in, dressed well enough that it looked like she’d planned on guests, but not so well that she didn’t look a little embarrassed when she saw the two women waiting for her.
“Ah! You must be the ladies with Prince Alphonse! Then you would be…” The woman, who looked to be in her mid forties, just slightly plump, enough to accentuate her curves rather than make her look heavy, regarded him baldly for a few seconds.
“Master Tor?” Her voice sounded a little awed for some reason.
“Just Tor, but yeah, that’s me.” He gave her his best polite grin.
The woman curtsied and held it for an awfully long time, so finally he bowed back, not knowing if that was the right move of not, but at least she took it as a sign that she could stand up straight. Sorlee looked at him with a scowl.
“Are you someone important? If I find out you’ve been fooling me all day I’ll…” She waved a fist at him which got everyone else to look at her in shock suddenly.
“Not really, some people think so, but I haven’t been fooling you. I told you who I was and even that I make magical devices. I probably should have spelled everything out for you, but I kind of wanted you to just like me for me, you know? So, really, no hitting.” Tor said this with a chuckle, shying away from the proffered blow with hands raised and a playful smile.
Saying all that meant that he had to explain to the ladies what had been said, which lead to an explanation of why he was working in the kitchen and what Sorlee had said earlier as well as the request from the cook that she stay on as the baker, since they didn’t have anyone else yet. The madam seemed satisfied with that arrangement as long as Sorlee took lessons in the evenings, learning the trade.
Apparently they really did need the extra girl and being so small, Sorlee would be in demand. A lot of men preferred small women for sex, it seemed.
Since the job was mainly one that could be learned by demonstration, Tor wouldn’t need to be around to translate at least, thank god, not for those parts. But Madame Clarissa wanted to make sure that Sorlee understood some of the broader points, such as using her mouth and hands on a man and the names for such acts in standard so that clients could make specific requests of her. That led to descriptions of things that Tor had never even heard of. Wasn’t sex just… sex? He said as much which had everyone but Sorlee laughing at him. She told them to stop rather forcefully, in fairly good standard, which got everyone’s attention.
“It’s, he’s from near where I’m from and people don’t talk about things like this. It’s not funny, just… right, just proper, for a good man where we’re from. His wife would have told him about some of this, if she was interested in doing any of it. Making fun of him for not knowing it is… mean.”
That got their attention and earned Tor some strange looks from all the older women when he finished translating. They probably thought he was incurably retarded. Maybe that was just the truth? He didn’t understand half of what they were talking about. Use your mouth on someone… Did that mean kissing? He asked out loud, knowing he’d sound dumb, but not wanting to be ignorant forever either. Sara grinned and looked away, but Ursala told him they’d talk about it later. This got a knowing look and a nod from the madam.
“And of course… Tor, if you ever want a demonstration of anything, please remember that my girls and myself are here at your disposal twenty-four hours a day. For you we’ll even make house calls… obviously without charge. One of the privileges of ownership.”
Tor had a strong feeling that the woman was trying to needle him about his lack of looks and skill with women. Well, she was right, he didn’t have those things, but that didn’t mean that he deserved to be mocked about it, did he? Maybe it was just her way of being playful? Then again, maybe she was just being honest? Maybe the only women he could ever hope to have were those he hired for the purpose. The idea left him feeling a little sad, but what could he do about it? Tor knew he should just accept himself for what he was and get on with living. It was a hard thought, but the world, the universe, was what it was. It was too big to be concerned with someone like him anyway. That was true no matter who you were at least.
King or baker, the universe didn’t notice.
After that, with him still blushing fiercely he was sure, Ursala, Sara and Tor all walked over to the area that held the people moving cargo container things. They turned out to look a lot different than he’d thought they would. For one thing Tor had pictured boxes the whole time, big, but roughly square. Instead they were all rectangular, but only vaguely, the front rounded and the whole thing enclosed in back, with sturdy doors that folded out so that passengers could load and unload easily from the side. Inside were benches rather than chairs, big enough to hold four large people sitting side by side. The back held ten benches, meaning there was room for forty people, not including the driver. More if they were normal sized like him, fewer if they were royal giants like the King and Count Thomson.
One of them would have held most of the compounds personnel when he’d come up with the idea, but now there were a lot more people. He counted six vehicles including the one that they looked at, which would mean that there was enough for, two-hundred and forty people to go places all at once? That should be enough, if they all took turns. That plus the women that had come to help out at the base should take a lot of the stress off the men working there.
A voice came from behind him, male and vaguely familiar. Godfrey.
“There’s two more stationed here and two that have been sent to the Capital full time. Their parked at the palace itself. Would you all like to go up? We don’t have any other trips scheduled for today, but it won’t hurt anything to let you see how well they work.”
The ride was smooth, even when they went fast. Faster than a person could fly outside of the craft apparently. In the time it took for Godfrey to point out how the controls worked they were almost at the Capital. There was a hand held device, that you activated and wore on the back of your left hand just like with flying the regular way, and showed them how the set-point control worked, a clever physical device that let you clip the hand control in place quickly and easily so that the pilot could do other things as long as they were flying in a straight line.
“Oooh, can we land? I’d love an update on the whole situation.” Ursala sounded grim as she spoke, so Godfrey, not hesitating, took them in for a landing, a slow and drifting thing over the palace complex itself, taking about ten minutes to settle in next to one of the people moving crafts on the ground.
“Sorry about the wait, we can land nearly as fast as a flyer could, but I don’t want to spook the guards here. Going very slow is kind of the only way we have to communicate our peaceful intentions with the ground at all. Not that anyone else in the world has craft like these yet, but the Royal Guard tends towards careful at all times.” The man sounded apologetic enough at least, even though it wasn’t his fault. Tor didn’t really want to test the crafts shields against explosive weapons with him inside anyway, so taking a bit of extra time worked for him.
None of them were dressed for a state dinner, but all of them were presentable enough for a staff session, so of course, nature and politics being what it was, they’d probably be expected to go to a high court function immediately. Instead a cute Princess, Varley, came out to get them running up to give Tor a hug, causing their shields to bump. Tor laughed a little, but Varley didn’t demand he let go of the shield until they got inside the door at least. Then, as soon as he got it turned off she kissed him. Hard. She didn’t stop until Ursala cleared her throat, several times.
“Hey, Princess… he came with us you know, until you find out if one of us has a claim don’t you think…” The large woman looked at the girl with a fake scowl on her face for a second, but Varley just shook her head and grinned up at her.
“Nope. Sara Debri hasn’t been sleeping with Tor; she’s been bedding my brother. Not that she couldn’t do both of them, but she hasn’t been. I asked Alphie already. You… well, it wouldn’t shock me to learn that you have been and really, given everything, I think you should be sleeping with Tor, for now at least, since it would be good for both of you, but if that was the case you would have corrected me much sooner than you did, if you cared about me doing it at least. Besides, for Tor-centric relationships, as far as I know I have the first position right now, since this is the second time I got him to drop his shield to make out with me and we have an actual agreement in place for it. So really, I think I should be wondering what you two been doing with my Tor up there in the wilderness…” She crossed her arms and raised her chin high in a look that was mock haughty. She spoiled it after about ten seconds with a pretty smile.
Ursala shrugged and told her that mainly they were watching him work off in a corner, though they had taken him to a whore house earlier that day, which functionally Tor owned, it being his compound and all, as well as his idea to put it in.
“He didn’t sleep with anyone though. Not this time. I do have an appointment with him later to discuss oral sex, so things are looking up a little there.”
Everyone laughed, except Tor who didn’t get it. Oral sex? He knew that oral meant mouth, but “mouth sex” didn’t make any sense at all. He may not be the savviest person in that area of life, but he knew enough that he didn’t think that would really work. How could you have kids that way? It was a joke maybe? Well, he got that they were laughing at him, but that was OK. Women just did that. At least they weren’t being really mean about things.
Not yet at least. Maybe they only did that at restaurants? If so, Tor wanted to avoid such places in the future.
The palace looked the same, except that he’d never been to this part of it before. It was deep inside the complex and down a long flight of gray stone stairs that seemed slightly damp. Tor wondered out loud how well the Not-flyers would handle steps like that. They worked on the little steps in the hut, but this was massive compared to that. Varley turned hers on with a quick tap and descended rapidly, but smoothly. Tor didn’t, but not because he didn’t want to. It would just be rude of him to leave the other women alone. To his surprise Varley came back up the steps just as quickly.
“Works like a charm. I figured it out a few weeks ago when they had be running messages for them down here for a full day. I was halfway through the day before I even thought about it. You just have to be careful not to run into anyone, because that can get messy. Don’t worry, it was only Alphonse, so he broke my fall. It also showed him the importance of wearing his shield inside, I think.” She grinned as she floated backwards down the stairs slowly.
The steps went on for a while and the walls went slightly damper and cool the deeper they got. The stone was a dark gray and if it wasn’t for the lights on the close walls, the whole thing would have been gloomy. There were light plates, ones Tor had made himself, since they were in his style and no one else had a template for them yet. If the military had them, that meant the King did, obviously, so it was pretty natural that they’d show up in the palace like this.
The room in the basement was a bit moist, enough that he wished he’d brought them a house drying device, but he didn’t even have one made up, all of them having gone to Ellen Ward. He could make more, if he ever got the time. Right now the King would probably yell at him for wasting his effort on them if he did it. When they entered through the heavy metal door they were met by an odd group of people.
The King and Rolph he’d expected but was a little disappointed that Connie wasn’t anywhere around, a thought that made him blush again. Burks being there was just a little odd, but he’d seen the man around in the last meeting he’d gone to, this time he was dressed very nicely in a deep green suit that actually worked on him color wise. Really, Tor realized, Burks had about the same basic skin tone and color that he did, so if it looked good on the older man, it would probably work for him as well. He wasn’t the largest man in the room, thin and black haired, but he didn’t seem like a servant either somehow. Not in the moment. In fact he seemed to be telling the man across from him off rather soundly.
“No. We will not shut down the school. We move personnel around and keep going. See if some of the older students are willing to forgo military glory for the time being, and stay on as retuletors to replace those we’re losing to other obligations. I thought you were a little more adaptable than that Kyle.” His voice sounded stern and commanding, a little cold maybe. Not the warm, friendly and servile kind of thing that Tor had heard before.
Kyle, it turned out was familiar enough to Tor now, since he’d seen him several times close up in the last few months. Dean Hardgrove. The idea of him actually having a first name and that being something as common as “Kyle” was almost a little funny. There were two men named that in Two Bends after all. No one was laughing, in fact the Dean, for the first time that Tor had seen, looked angry.
“Sure Burks, you just sit back and play whatever little games you have going then sweep in and lambaste me for making the sensible choices? We’ve gone from three hundred students to ninety-four inside a month! Everyone over sixteen has dropped out, most back to family estates or to try and sneak into the military. Kolb has gone off and taken the top combat students with him, god knows what they’re planning. We need to face facts; we can’t hold things together right now.”
Richard took in Tor with a nod and spoke calmly, his attention going to the Dean smoothly.
“Yes. Sir Martin and his personal army… We really need to get a handle on them fast, before they strike out on their own. Best course is probably to find them and set them some kind of task to keep them busy… Have them train with the military maybe? I don’t know. They have the skills for it. Right now we don’t even have a clue where they are. They’re like ghosts suddenly.”
Burks sat up in his hard looking wooden chair and smiled when he saw who’d come in, holding up a hand, a single finger really, to get Hardgrove to shut-up and not say anything more, as he turned towards the door. The chair he sat in slid on the floor just slightly and the man stood.
“Tor! You look… Let’s get you something to eat.” He finished lamely.
Tor didn’t feel hungry at the moment, but he appreciated the thought, he knew that he looked a lot more like a walking skeleton than not these days, flesh lean and hard all over, as often as not pressing right up against bone. Before anyone could say anything Varley turned and vanished up the stairs, presumably to get him food, as backwards as a Princess waiting on him and taking orders from a room servant seemed. It was war time though, so everyone had to serve as best they could, right?
Then again, if Burks was a simple servant here, Tor would have totally rethink what those kind of people did. Why they were even discussing the school didn’t make sense at all.
“Hey everyone. We’ve, uh, come to get an update on the situation with…” Not wanting to just blurt out that Ursala’s parents had been murdered or go into how Karen, his friend, was dead, Tor waved a hand. Funnily enough everyone seemed to get it.
Rolph sat in a big. Old looking, wooden chair next to the King, both dressed in clothing a lot simpler and more heavy duty than he’d gotten used to seeing them in. The King wore what looked like a canvas military uniform in all black and Rolph sat in an old pair of student browns that actually had a bit of wear on them. Looking around Tor realized that, for the first time in his life, he might be the best dressed person in the room. For the men at least, Ursala still beat him, but that didn’t count, because she was a woman. It just worked that way, if he was making up the rules at least. No one else seemed concerned with that kind of thing right now. Of course. That would be too much to ask now that he finally could have been in the lead, he thought with a sigh. Well, at least he was still winning the contest to be the shortest person still, his conversation with the exotic Afrak ambassador flitting across his mind suddenly.
The room had to be the plainest place in the whole building, plain gray stone making a simple square of a room that was no bigger than his section of the hut back at the compound. Not that his house was that small, but with a bunch of giants in it, things got close fast. The same thing was true here. At the back there was a metal door, also in gray that had obviously been opened in the last days, since fresh scratches had appeared on the stone floor where it had been forced open. It wasn’t a big door either, the King would probably have to twist and bend a lot to get through it. Rolph too, it seemed, since now that Tor looked more closely it was clear that his tall friend had gotten even bigger in the last months.
All the men stood, even Rich, who helped find chairs for everyone. Hardgrove tried to give his chair up to Tor when it became clear they were one short, but that got the man a hard look and a wave of the hand. After all, Tor could just hit the Not-flyer and hang in the air comfortably enough, where the old guy would have had to stand. It meant being careful not to waive his right hand around when he spoke, but really, Tor wasn’t here to talk. That he was even in the room, obviously some kind of secret bunker, didn’t make a lot of sense to him at all.
Wasn’t the point of a secret hiding place to keep it… secret?
Once everyone was seated, no time was wasted on pleasantries. Rich started filling Ursala and interestingly enough, Sara, in on what had been happening behind the scenes.
“Our agents are in place. Things… well, they’ve been going slowly so far. The Wards may not be intelligent people, but whomever they’re working with seems rather more clever. We’ve helped work Baronetta Coltress into place, her father “being needed” for the war effort and him deeming the Capital as rather too dangerous for the time being at our urging. She’s been shunted off to the dowager estate, but Ellen Ward has proven useful in getting her into place in the main household for regular visits. Somehow they’ve all secured flying gear already, making visits to Warden, the Ward County capital simple enough that they’d be expected to make it up there regularly.” He rubbed at his face, clean shaved, but tired looking. Tor could sympathize.
So, their “agent” was Collette? Well, or one of her sisters. Tor had a feeling that the pretty blond was the one though, especially when the hardships she was undergoing at the hands of her half-sister were described. It sounded like Maria really didn’t like either her or Ellen at all and only tolerated Ellen because Count Ward, for all his other failings, still loved his mother.
“You can’t tell by the way he keeps her though, can you? That dowager estate was about to be overrun with royal eating lizard monsters the last time I was there. Well, really, I only went the once, to put in her house dryer, and give her some cooling plates, but yeah, for a royal she’s not being taken care of that well at all.” Tor knew he sounded a little irritated, but Ellen had seemed nice and it would have taken very little work for her son to make sure she was taken care of properly.
Hardgrove’s eyebrows shot up at that bit of information.
“You’ve visited the Dowager Ward at her home?”
“Yes… and no, I’m not sleeping with her, so let’s not malign her name that way,” the last bit wasn’t exactly bitter, but did sound just a little short. He winced and tried to soften his tone with the man, who had, after all, always been nice to him.
“Sorry sir, I mean, I went down a few months ago, and put in some devices to keep her house cool and dry, they make her live in the middle of a huge swamp. Oh, and gave her and her man Georges flying rigs and shields. Was I not supposed to? If not then I probably really botched when I got some of the military guys to go down and build a wall around her estate to keep those lizard monsters out and put in a freezing box and some other things. I… hope that doesn’t mess with anyone’s plans overly, but what was I supposed to do? I mean, giant killer snake things or whatever they are…” He’d never seen one, but they sounded horrible from what Ellen had said. They had to stand ready to do battle with them every time they left the house.
Rather than get mad at him for messing things up, everyone in the room actually seemed to range from non-committal about the move, to happy. Oddly it was Ursala who seemed to not care and Richard along with Hardgrove that seemed pleased. As Tor hovered in the air he was just glad that no one was really angry about it, since he couldn’t fix it now, could he? He moved a few inches closer to the group as Richard explained how they might be able to use it all to their benefit.
Touching his head gently, as if he had a headache, he outlined a tentative plan.
“We could, perhaps, use more items and even… Gold, coming from you Tor, to Ellen Ward and possibly Collette Coltress, given as gifts, to help them gain favor with the Count and his lady. We need some excuse for you to be sending them gifts, but the value would be enough to get their attention and possibly reflect well on our agents. Wait… I’m not exactly getting it yet. One moment.”
The King clearly lost focus, staring at a wall for several minutes. No one else spoke or even moved overly. When he looked around he noticed that half the people in the room were doing something similar. Sara and Hardgrove did at least. Burks stared at Richard closely, as if waiting for an order or suggestion that might be helpful. Ursala didn’t do anything special, she just waited, smiling at Tor and Rolph occasionally. It looked sad.
For his part Tor wondered if this was how people felt when he suddenly drifted away from a conversation in a similar fashion. It was a little annoying, he realized, but mainly just because he didn’t have anything to do. Finally nearly fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Varley came in holding a covered tray. It had a silver platter underneath, covered with a high dome of something that actually looked too shining and bright for silver. Even polished silver rarely looked like that, having a duller cast to it. She set it down on the table in front of him and with a small flourish, quietly unveiled… a sandwich.
It was roast beef, and had some kind of creamy and savory dressing on it. Dill and rosemary he thought. It was good, because really, anything with rosemary was and the sandwich was made on a single loaf of bread, meaning it was huge. If it wasn’t at least a foot long, Tor didn’t know how to measure anything. Luckily it had been sliced in half on a diagonal so that he could actually pick it up.
He hadn’t felt hungry before, but suddenly he was famished. Tor ate it, after checking for poison openly. Eating, even though no one else had food, not caring at first, as rude as it was. After the first half of the meal he was getting full and thought to offer the rest around, but didn’t know how without talking. Just then, as he started to try and get Rolph, Varley and Ursala’s attention with more than a little hand waving, the King shook himself and started speaking.
“What if… Collette Coltress was sent as an intermediary? To make peace after all that’s happened? Tor would have to be willing to apologize most likely, but it would give our person on the ground a chance to cement her relationship with the Wards at least. Is that… Well, socially speaking it’s a good plan anyway….”
Snapping out of their own deep states the others all started nodding suddenly. Tor didn’t get it; he was supposed to apologize to the Wards? For what? Letting Ward beat on his shield at the meeting about the baby? Existing? He asked, knowing that he sounded a little peevish, but not really being able to stop it at the moment.
No one answered for a few moments, then those moments stretched and warped into something embarrassing. At first Tor thought it was something he’d done, but finally Princess Veronica shook her head.
“No. It’s too much to ask father. Better to just arrange for the Wards to die in an “accident” and forget justice.”
Tor shifted in the air, so he faced the girl and tilted his head a little. His left hand rested on the table after the turn, helping to steady him, not that he was wobbling before.
“Um, I don’t get it… They want me to apologize to Count Ward? For… giving his mother some stuff? Or… you don’t think they mean Maria do you? That was a while ago, and I’m willing to let things go, because we were both just kids and sometimes people do stupid and cruel things without realizing what they’re doing really, but I’m not apologizing to her for it. I didn’t do anything wrong after all, so I don’t think it would seem genuine anyway.”
His large redheaded friend cleared his throat.
“Ah no, Tor, dad wasn’t suggesting that.” Looking uneasy Rolph finally shrugged slowly.
“He means to have you apologize to Trice.”