The next day was Connie’s birthday celebration, known as Queen’s day. It wasn’t as big a deal as King’s week, since she wasn’t the ruling monarch, but people did go out of their way to put up some banners and took to the streets singing this year. Always popular, Connie had won everyone over when she’d cut her hair in support of the military effort. That, apparently, was considered a huge deal in the city.
When Tor saw her, he understood why it was considered such a powerful gesture.
Short hair didn’t suit her at all. She looked, well, not horrible, but not good either. Oh well, it was the thought and safety issues that counted, not looks. Besides, looking at it like some village boy would have, Tor had to think that the Queen being willing to do this meant a lot more if it didn’t make her look good. A lot of people would be willing to sacrifice their hair, but their looks? That was far more impressive, and it showed everyone that she thought that the war and supporting the troops was more important than she was. If the Queen was willing to sacrifice for the people on the front lines, who was he to do less? She sat in a chair under an outdoor cloth pavilion, a tent top in gold and purple, at least Tor thought that’s what it would be called. He’d gotten there early to give her his present, since it needed to be set up ahead of time for best effect. When he walked up to her she stood from the throne and actually ran over to him.
“Are you well?” She asked, as if he’d actually been in danger at any time.
Then again, if the acting job he’d been trying to pull off had worked at all, he might seem a little injured still at that. Tor was actually nearly healed and in a lot of ways stronger than he had been in months, since his poisoning at least. The Queen took his hand, then hugged him, wrapping her arms around his shield, but not asking him to drop it. He noticed she wasn’t wearing one and after a second stared at her, stepped back from her while crossing his arms then tapped his foot at her like a farm wife trying to make her hurry to a conclusion.
She smiled quizzically.
“Um, well, Connie, I personally gave you a shield and even if you lost it or it doesn’t go with your outfit or something, you should have it on when outside. The palace shield won’t stop someone from attacking you out here and a lot of people are going to be here today.”
She chuckled and tried to wave him off but he shook his head and kept staring at her until she admitted that she’d left hers in her jewelry box. Slipping his own off, Tor gently put the hemp string around her neck, leaving the shield activated the whole time.
“Just, you know, tuck that in, because a piece of string really looks out of place with your clothes today. You look great by the way.” He added, realizing that, bad haircut or not, she really did. Her skin almost glowed. After a second he realized that her skin wasn’t glowing, it was the air around her. A pale green to match her dress. Ah. He wondered how she’d gotten one of those at all.
It turned out that Debbie, in an effort to make up for lost revenue probably, had taken to selling items during the last half of the King’s week festival and this one had trickled down, or floated up more like it, to her through a third party.
“I’m pretty sure it belonged to a prostitute originally, but it’s mine now. I won it playing cards with Mercy. Oh… you’re not still too angry over all that are you? I…” She clutched at her bodice, as if Tor was going to flip out over her talking to her sister.
“Nah. I’m pretty sure they didn’t do anything really. I’ve even mainly forgiven Trice. Life, no matter how long, is too short to carry grudges around. Heavy things, grudges. They wear at you. So, ready for your present?”
For some reason the Queen looked around and then wet her lips seductively.
“Hmm, do we need to be somewhere private for it?” She said meaningfully, her voice slightly purring in a way that he actually got now.
Tor swallowed.
“Um, Connie,” He whispered to her gently. “I’m… not really good with all this stuff, you know, the whole royal sleeping around thing and “the rules” and all that? But,” he said, before her face could fall too much. “But I really, honestly, like you. I even have feelings for you and stuff. You know, real ones? I’m not trying to play games with you or put you off or anything, but, well, I still don’t feel like I’m good enough for you. So, no, my present isn’t anything that we need to be alone for. Um, not this time? But, I wanted you to know that. Even if it’s incredibly improper of me to even say something like this. So, um, come with me over there? To that empty spot in the grass?”
Connie looked happy with what he’d said, for some reason.
“You do like me? I… well, I wondered for a time if you were just playing with me. You were nice and proper about it, but sometimes a little cool, given how close I thought we were getting. So, really just cultural differences? Good to know. Yes, I can’t wait to see what you’ve brought.”
She took his arm and led him gently over to the area he’d indicated. After a few seconds he started to assemble everything. He used some water from one of the ponds, which required going all the way around the palace and putting the copper bits in the water, then set the hand sized silver plate on the ground. He tapped the first sigil and waited for a second. Connie didn’t feel anything either he noticed, but her breath started steaming in the air. Smiling he hit the second sigil after everything had enough time to cool down enough.
White fluff started to appear over their heads and fell to the earth gently, a soft cascade of white.
“Tor… it’s snowing? My… This is, incredible!”
After a few moments Varley came over with Karina and tentatively walked into the hundred yards square of snow. Since pelting the Queen with snow balls wouldn’t be proper, especially on her birthday, the girls hit him with a half dozen. They stung too, since he wasn’t wearing a shield. Varley noticed, but Karina just ran over, carefully, and gave him a hug. The shoulder length hair in brown worked well on her.
“My birthdays in two months you know. June. Just saying.” The Princess giggled then as her sister kissed Tor warmly after turning her own shield off.
“No shields? The palace shields good enough then?” She asked succinctly.
“Heck no, I just lent mine to your mom, since she’s in a lot more danger than I am. Today you should all be covered the whole time. I know the Royal Guard is on duty, but… there’s stuff going on and I really don’t think that taking chances is a good idea right now.” There. He didn’t want to say too much, because tales of Austran spies and assassins was probably both ridiculous and wrong. While he slept it occurred to him that he probably had jumped about five points of logic to come to that conclusion about who Maria Ward was working with.
Even if she was pissed at Rolph, taking down a whole kingdom or even just the royal family seemed a bit excessive, didn’t it? Wouldn’t it be enough to just start some rumors about the heir? Like he has a small manhood or something? It wasn’t true, but it would probably annoy Rolph anyway.
The King walked over with a smile on his face, followed by two guards in black and purple. One of them was Rolph, but the other was one of the gate guards that had threatened to hurt Tor if he didn’t leave the gate area that one time. Well, Tor could let it go. He wouldn’t have wanted some stranger hanging around the front gate like that either, right?
Before the King could speak Connie gushed at him.
“Look Richard! Snow! Here in the Capital and its spring not even deep winter. I think I’ll call it the snow garden and keep it going all summer. Will that work?” She looked at Tor who smiled and shrugged.
“Yes. Kind of hard on the grass though. You can also turn it on whenever you want and here, on the plate? Size controls. This is as big as it gets, but it can go down to a twenty by twenty foot square too. Or a fifty by fifty, that way you can move it around as you wish.”
Richard laughed and slapped him on the back.
“This is most impressive Tor! I’m always amazed by what you bring to the party.”
The voice sounded genuine to Tor, even as he felt a flash of guilt having confessed even part of his feelings to the Queen. He managed to keep any strange looks from his face at least. Well, he hoped he did. Facial control wasn’t something he excelled at yet, Tor knew.
This party was far different from the others he’d been to at the palace. Held in the early part of the day, starting before luncheon even, and all outdoors. It was warm, but not that oppressive heat of the full summer yet, so people wore light clothing and carried fans, but otherwise looked comfortable enough. Most of the fans didn’t even get used, except to hide someone’s face every now and then, when they felt themselves unable to control an unwanted expression or laugh. Tor could relate. He could also relate with Rolph having called most of his mothers “high class” friends catty and a bit bitchy. They were.
Annoyingly so.
He’d made it snow on a warm spring day and held the snow on the ground without melting all over their shoes and they walked through every ten minutes complaining that it was too cold, that they weren’t dressed right for it and that Tor hadn’t presented it in a grand enough fashion for all to see. After he heard this for the third time he turned to Varley and smiled, knowing he was probably being a little sensitive and tried not to sound too pissy. Failed at it a bit too, he feared.
“Really, are people so vain that they think the Queen’s present need their approval to be of worth?” He whispered this, not wanting to give offense, but an older man, who looked incredibly bored and oddly out of place, snorted about five feet from them.
“Of course they do boy. If they didn’t try to tear your gift down they’d be forced to stand around in awe, gibbering in disbelief. That doesn’t make anyone look attractive, so they cover it up by pretending disdain. That or contempt. Plus, who can match it? I mean the set of gold napkin rings me and the missus brought kind of pale in comparison, don’t you think?”
The man looked familiar. Right, they’d met before, worked to put out the fires in County Ross together. Tor bowed.
“Varley, I… I’m ashamed to say I don’t know who this man is by name, but he’s one of the hero’s that helped save County Ross. Without him I don’t think Rossalynd would have been saved at all, he personally kept everything together.” Tor bowed again low and humbly. With a little hindsight and a slightly better mood than he had at the time Tor could see just how much the man had actually done. Even staying calm when Tor personally was acting like a complete moron and threatening people in a way that had to be terrifying.
Chuckling the elderly man bowed back, just as low. Tor winced when he saw the move. No old man should ever feel like he had to bow that low to someone like him. Gardner or not.
“Count Ross. The second Count Ross, so Scotty’s adopted father. I don’t want you getting confused or anything and think I’m secretly much larger than I look.” The man smiled and stood a little stiffly, Tor held his own bow as a sign of respect for a few seconds longer than that, then stood up straight. He had to fight off the urge to grovel a little, because he’d spent three or four days treating the man like the head gardener. Still, Tor’s upbringing had saved him a little. He was polite to people like gardeners, since that was an important and useful job after all. His father would have whipped him sore as a child if he wasn’t. At least that was always the threat. His parents had never gone in for beating the kids much when it came down to it.
The old man, wrinkled and slightly stooped, hands still rough and hard looking glanced at the Princess and winked.
“Don’t let the boy fool you girl… We were a half day from losing everything when he and his friends swept in. Even then it was a hard battle, which shows just how desperate it really was.” He told the tale as if it were an epic battle, instead of a fight against a fire.
The man spoke of the smoke coming in waves, choking the city sometimes, so that no one could breath hardly at all, smelling like burning wood and heat, even when the fire was miles away. How children cried and women readied their families to run as well as they could and the old men and women selected knives and sharpened them, so that they could kill themselves before the fire caught them. No one wanted to burn to death, better the sharp touch of the knife to the side of the throat or wrist than that.
Then like angles or gods they came, flying through the air to save them all.
“You’ve seen people fly, maybe even done it yourself, being a Princess, but you have to remember that most of us hadn’t seen it at all before. Just one or two people at a time at most. It was like the heavens themselves had opened up and started raining down warriors. Except for one. One of them wasn’t a warrior at all, but looked like a little boy instead. The Wizard Tor.” An old finger weathered and rough pointed at him.
People had started to gather around to listen. The old man really could tell a story. If he hadn’t been there himself Tor would have felt a thrill of the epic battle against the forces of nature and how bit by bit, desperately, they started to win the battle for the city, but not yet the war.
Then to Tor’s embarrassment Count Ross told how he’d lost his temper and almost gotten into a fight with the giant Countier first. Scottland Ross. Tor blushed a brilliant red, but couldn’t argue with the rebuke that would be coming for his actions. He’d been wrong, and acted poorly. All he could do now was acknowledge his error and strive to fix it. Before the man could finish the story Tor stopped him. This wouldn’t be fun, but it had to be done. Tor spoke words of apology for his poor behavior. More, he probably needed to find the Countier soon and apologize to him in person for his lapse. When he’d finished the old man bowed low to him again. Then he finished telling how Tor had simply pointed at a far off field and made it explode, shaking the very foundations of the city itself from nearly ten miles away. Causing a cloud of dust and smoke to rise like a mountain into the air.
“And then… The Wizard Tor… let it go. And now he apologizes for his lapse with humility and honor, even when that apology might better be left to others and no one in the world would expect such. I for one feel humbled.”
For some reason everyone listening suddenly bowed towards him, as if not being a jerk was something special. He was already blushing as brightly as he could, so doing more wasn’t possible. That bowing saved most of their lives when the bomb went off.
It wasn’t that the explosion was so large, it just wasn’t. A mere pop and a scattering of smoke. What saved them was that, surrounded as he was by low bowing giants, Tor could see that the smoke from it didn’t look right. It wasn’t black and oily, or white and soft. It was silvery, a glittering thing that he almost took to be a party favor of some kind at first, except for when he saw who stood nearest it. Burks Lairdgren, and he was fighting a familiar looking man with strange eyes. Black and staring.
Burks yelled loudly.
“Nanos! Death dust, don’t let it touch you, be careful, it’s a trap of some kind, the Larvals always have a plan within a plan…” He fought as he spoke, his voice loud but not hurried sounding, both men fought hard, but it was clear that Burks was the superior fighter. Vastly so in fact. Better than anyone Tor had ever seen at least.
Well, if you had thousands of years to get good at something it would hardly be surprising that you might be a bit better than average. Tor focused on the smoke, the “death dust”. So… this was made of those tiny machines he’d heard about? Tor hadn’t built shields to withstand that kind of thing. Dust could be stopped, but this stuff was tiny to his mind when he reached out to it. Like air itself. Even if he had, most of the people around him didn’t have a shield on. Could he do anything about it? It was, oddly enough, slowly moving towards the people, even though the breeze should have carried it away at about a thirty-five degree angle.
Crap.
So, could he stop it? If he had an air choke, he could, Tor thought. But all he’d brought was his shield, which uselessly enough, Connie had right now and his temperature equalizer. Well, he also had his poison detector in his pocket and one that looked like it around his neck, but both were sort of not needed at the moment. People started to run away, but for some reason Burks called for them not too. It was a trap. It turned out that the ancient was right. More of the little death dust bombs started going off, six in all. Surrounding them.
The people nearest them started to go down. They just… died.
Other people started fighting, a man with black eyes for each bomb somehow. Not different men with strange eyes, the same man. Exactly. Like twins, only more of them and even closer to each other in looks somehow. With the exception of Burks, each of the others on their side that fought was being beaten easily. One of those, he saw, was familiar. Short hair in a white blond bob, fuzzy now, rather than curly locks. She wore a very light pink dress that was almost white and had a knife in her hand, being hit over and over again as she tried to hold her ground. Blood already pouring from her nose and face.
Trice.
Rolph and the gate guard were barely holding against their man even though they made him looked like a dwarf between them. A woman in a Royal Guard outfit fought too. Right, Wensa. She went where the Prince did. For a half second it made Tor wonder if she’d worked the whorehouse too, in order to stay close to Rolph. It wouldn’t have shocked him if she had. She’d do anything to get her job done after all.
The death dust moved away from the blast and sought the people of the crowd, closing on them. What could he do? Other than die of course. He couldn’t even run away…
Still the air?
He knew the field needed, but this was a huge space… It probably wasn’t possible to do anything strong enough, fast enough. Not without time. Or… enough focus. Could he do it?
No.
It couldn’t be done, not in time. Not without risking death due to pattern failure. Just trying could rip his own body apart on the basic level.
Would he do it anyway?
That, he knew, was the real question. Dead was dead, but he had to try. He sat cross legged on the ground suddenly and built the field, climbing as deep as possible as he could into his mind, then going deeper. So deep that reality stopped being for him.
For each moment he failed, people died. Tor couldn’t think about that, he could only think of the air not moving. The dust in it not shifting or floating.
Still.
Be still.
He knew it worked finally, after what felt like forever, but had to be less than a minute. The sounds of fighting lingered, but he held his focus tight and didn’t waiver. People needed to run now. He couldn’t tell them too. Tor couldn’t even open his eyes. Doing that meant letting go of his desperate grasp on the clouds of death.
He felt himself hit, but didn’t move, couldn’t let himself even try to. Then, for a while, he was hit over and over again. He thought. Tor couldn’t feel it really, the blows that struck at him he just kept going and sought to move deeper, past the black and images in his mind, past the bottom and the emptiness on the other side. Holding only the field he needed to keep people alive. Everything stopped then. It was, he thought, a place between. No, it wasn’t a thought.
It just was.
He didn’t move out of it for a long time.
Tor didn’t know if he could really. This death dust, if he let it go, would anything else be able to stop it? It seemed a deadly thing. Better to hold as long as he could and let everyone else run away, if they could stop the attackers. That was all he could do.
Not that he thought that either really. It was just what was. Tor knew it, but didn’t consider it at all.
Finally he began to hear something strange, bizarre really, it called to him, got his attention and pried him away from what he was doing just enough for him to wonder what it might be. Singing. At first he wondered if it was his imagination, his mind having grown so bored that it was making up songs to entertain itself. Fair enough, except for the need to hold the nanos in place. Finally he opened his eyes to see Burks standing in front of him humming along with the singers.
“Ah! I thought that might work! Novel stimulation can sometimes attract attention, even in the deepest states. Tor, the death dust has been dealt with; we managed to wash it out of the air then removed the earth to a safe location out of the city… A lot of people have died, but not nearly as many as might have. That was… not too bad, holding it all in place like that.”
People were dead?
Yeah, he knew that. Selfishly he just hoped it wasn’t his friends. Tor knew that some of them had been in danger though, so he tried to hold his own mind still, until he could find out what all had happened. People sang still. Two people actually. It was Mercy and Connie singing softly to him, their voices lovely, both looking over at him, so he nodded.
“Who?”
Tor couldn’t ask which of his friends he’d lost. Which people he’d loved that he’d never see again. It was important he knew, because both women cried openly as they sang. God…
The Queen stopped singing, followed by Mercy a few seconds later, and sniffed loudly.
“Oh Tor! Thank god you came back to us, we were all so worried, it’s been three days. Burks didn’t know if you’d ever let go of the field, until you died from it. When dumping snow on you didn’t work, everyone kind of thought you’d never come back.”
“Who?” He asked again, his voice flat and without expression. From the looks on all their faces, Tor knew they got it. Finally The Queen spoke, her voice just above a whisper.
“Laura. The cook. She heard the commotion and saw the fighting, so she led eight of the men and women from the kitchen in an assault on one of those…things. Most of them were injured, but it… destroyed her Tor. She didn’t even live long enough to…” There was a sob, but no description of what happened. Tor was kind of thankful for that. He’d liked Laura.
“Duke Winchester fought with the one that attacked you, and held long enough for Burks and Varley to kill it. He died of his wounds yesterday. The Duke fought most bravely and didn’t yield, even when he was wounded unto death.” Connie stood straighter when she said it, her voice sounding proud.
Tor nodded.
“Varley?” His voice sounded soft and weak, but Burks spoke strongly enough.
“She’s fine. She used her shield as a battering ram and her Tor-shoes to hit the Larval attacking you. It worked well. She’d seen the war minister, Smythe, do the same thing a few moments before and picked it up almost instantly. Smythe took out three of the assassins by himself that way. Said he learned the trick from you? A godsend really. I’ve seen three of the clones go through nearly fifty people on their own with nothing more than knives before, and those were all hardened warriors. Without Smythe and the Princesses we would have lost a lot more people.”
That got a nod from Tor and it all started to hit him. People he knew were dead? Some of them died protecting him? Duke Winchester had saved him at the cost of his own life? God. Gods.
Mercy’s breath shuddered.
Her sister kept talking anyway.
“Twenty-three people died in all Tor. I don’t know that you knew any of those, mostly staff and party goers from around the Capital. Your people are safe. You saved them. Saved us. Some are wounded. Alphonse was stabbed several times in the stomach; he’ll live, but is in great pain. Captain Wensa has two broken legs and a dislocated elbow. Trice… She’s alive at least.” The older Morgan sobbed just slightly and sounded incredibly sad when Connie said the words.
Neither woman would tell him what that meant, but Burks didn’t bat an eyelash when asked.
“The Larval took her left arm at the elbow Tor. He had a nano pack on him and she grabbed it as they fought, to keep him from deploying it. We had to cut it off to keep the machines from eating her alive. Karina actually did it, she had a cutter on her and figured out what was needed in time. It was a hard act and if she’d been even a second slower Trice would be dead right now. Bless the girl, I really never thought of Karina as being that swift, but I’m glad to say I was wrong about her.” He sounded sad when he spoke but Tor shrugged. Mercy winced when he did.
“Ah. Don’t worry Mercy, I’m not saying she deserved it. It’s just that the loss of an arm to save all those lives is a fair exchange. We’ll hire someone to be her left hand or, or I’ll do it myself if I have to. This doesn’t have to be a tragedy unless we make it into one.”
Mercy cried, hard, but nodded at him. Burks though snorted.
“Good. Now go tell her that. She’s a strong girl, but she’s being a bit of a wimp about this. It’s an arm, not her life. A nice clean separation too, so it doesn’t even look ugly. Young people always want to make everything about looks for some reason and forget the important things.”
Tor stood. He needed the restroom and a bath first, but would get a cold shower, since that’s all the palace had and he was tucked back in a supply closet of all things. It wasn’t really a shower even, just a large sink, but he’d live. Space it seemed was at a premium and while the Queen acted like she expected him to be offended, he just shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d noticed it or anything, he assured her. It wasn’t even a really small room. Nearly ten by ten and he’d had it too himself, except for the people walking in and poking at him. The floor was polished bright and there were shelves of rags, brooms and mops, as well as brushes and other cleaning supplies all around him. He’d had worse accommodations, Tor thought, as he made his way towards the room that Trice had, shared with Wensa of all people.
Neither of them spoke when he walked into the room, at first. After ten seconds of Tor looking at them Wensa snorted.
“Well this is a first, every other time it’s been one of use wondering if you were alive, not the other way around. So I take it the electrical weapon used on you wasn’t lethal?”
Tor shrugged.
“That’s what it was? I barely felt it. How are you both feeling?” He asked this gently, but got two simultaneous and different answers.
Wensa sensibly enough just said she’d heal, and didn’t complain about the pain at all. Trice half sobbed that she should have died instead of this.
Tor crossed his arms and gave her a wry look.
“Um, I love you Trice. You’re my good friend and I mean this from the bottom of my heart… Shut the heck up and stop being a whiner. So you lost an arm. Big deal. You save nearly two hundred people in the process. If I asked you, right now, if you’d give your other arm to save that many people, what would you say? Or even half that many people? Or just me? Or the King? Or Wensa here?”
It took her a while, but she said that she’d make the trade. Wensa gave a wintry smile and nodded. “Of course you would. I was going to say something about that myself, but it looks like Tor here beat me too it. It was a good bargain. Even one life for that many would be beyond fair value.”
Spreading his hands Tor shrugged.
“See? If both Wensa and I agree on something, it must be fact. Now, when do you think you’re going to be ready to travel?” He asked abruptly, trying to keep her off guard. Stewing on her loss wouldn’t help her for the first bit. She’d have to deal with it eventually, but in the first days being distracted could only help. Or he was totally wrong and he’d just seem like an overbearing jerk that she could hate, which still gave her something else to focus on. Either would work, even if he felt like a heel being gruff when what he wanted to do was pet her and make soothing noises. Tell her that it would be all right. But it wouldn’t be. Not really. Still, she was alive and no one ever gained much by giving up, did they?
Obviously a little drugged, or, once Tor really looked at her, he realized very much so, Trice took a few seconds to answer from her very nice looking soft bed. The stump of her left arm was wrapped in tan bandages and sat above the covers on the dark green blanket with a stark white sheet underneath. She reached up and touched her head with her other hand.
“What?” She asked, sounding truly baffled.
“When are you going to be ready to travel? Because you need to get trained up as a transport pilot, and that can be hard for people that already know how to fly using a rig. I’ll make you one with right handed controls, flying rig that is. The transport too, or better, I’ll make them so that they can be used with either hand. Honestly I should have done that already. But that’s after I make a new field to take care of this death dust stuff. I don’t want to be mean, but I’m seriously starting to dislike these Austrans, you know?” Tor moved to her right side, staring at her eyes. He felt uneasy about the missing limb, but mainly he felt bad. She was a hero though, and earned her wounds as much as anyone on a battlefield.
Maybe more.
She’d saved a lot of people losing that arm, including him. He’d held the death dust in place, but if a new batch had been added, he would have ignored it. Tor had just been too deep to deal with anything new. It was kind of a requirement of what he’d been doing at the time.
“In about two weeks or so, when you’re ready, we’re headed to Afrak to deliver some rivers, then we need to figure out what to do about this war. I don’t know what you’re planning on doing after that, but there’s always something. If nothing else you can always go back to working in the house.” He tried to keep his voice serious sounding, but a smile finally took his face.
Lazily, sleepily, she stuck out her tongue.
“Right, like anyone wants a whore with only one arm.”
Her voice was so sad Tor didn’t know what to say to that.
Wensa did.
“Piffle. Just charge them more and tell your clients it’s a special treat and exotic. Two gold for a stump job. They’ll be lining up for it. It’s all in how you present yourself after all.”
Tor chuckled, if it was a little strained, well, it had been a hard day so far and he was tired from being awake and not eating for three days. It was starting to show a little, maybe, so he spread his hands expansively.
“Really, I think we can find something a little more entertaining for you to do, given your education, but it’s always good to have a backup plan, right? Don’t get rid of those boots though, I think you may have use of them soon…” He tried to pitch his voice in a way that made it sound suggestive, which got a laugh from both women. Tor sighed and shook his head in mock woe.
“So, I have to work on that, trying to be all playful and stuff? Seriously though, bring the boots. I expect to see you up and around tomorrow then? We have plans to make and can’t really do it all in here. Wensa, you too. The boots, I mean. Get a pair just in case.” This he managed with such a deadpan face that both women looked at him in slight shock before they busted up laughing.
“Good! No time to worry about little things, we have a war to win and Austrans to kill. Normally I’m kind of anti-killing, but right now I’m thinking of making some exceptions.” That sounded a lot darker than he meant it too, but got nods that didn’t seem self-pitying at all, so he left it at that and kissed Trice on the cheek, then, just to get a laugh did the same thing to Wensa. Oddly both women just nodded at him again. Ah, right. The rules. Tor had never even considered that the Royal Guards might have to follow them. Well, he’d just be nice to her. He didn’t really like her, but she’d helped save his life too, even if he was one hundredth and eighty-seventh on her list of people to protect at the party, that had to count for something.
Next Tor walked not just down the hall, but across the entire palace complex, needing to get directions twice, to find Rolph. He was sitting with Sara, and Ursala when Tor walked in.
“Heh, see and neither even bothered coming to visit me… I guess that means they pick you. Well. Told you so.” Tor smiled and collected hugs from both girls and winked at Rolph who groaned slightly.
“Damn, he found us. Well, now I have to stop being a wimp and complaining about my tummy hurting. I do have a whole new respect for you though. You didn’t even whimper after you were stabbed. I cried like a little girl.” He sounded ashamed of that for some reason, which Tor didn’t get at all.
“Ah, but you see, I’m probably the one person in the room that knows, first hand and recently, that crying like a little girl is a very serviceable option in response to that kind of pain. Though really, I doubt you actually did. Maybe you choked up, in a manly and regal way, but you didn’t scream or sob. I know that nearly one hundred percent.” Tor sounded confident. He was, so it worked for him.
Rolph smiled and gave him a serious look.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but how do you know? You were kind of out of it, saving us all, if I recall…”
“Easy. It hurts way too damn much to let your stomach move like that. So the loudest it comes out is kind of a stoic moan. Don’t worry, you did fine, and by the time they write songs about it you’ll probably have just shrugged the wounds of and gotten back to work almost immediately. Speaking of which, we have a meeting tomorrow. Planning. What do we need to do for the war effort and all that. Anyone with a brain that we can get to come. This isn’t anything official, so seriously, anyone. The guy that cleans the stables if he has anything to add… Trice is already coming, she doesn’t know it yet, but she is. I don’t know about Wensa, but I wouldn’t rule it out. Two broken legs and a dislocated arm don’t really sound like enough to stop her. I’ll spread the word and we can see who shows. Late luncheon?”
Tor said this all smoothly, as if he actually had a plan and wasn’t just trying to give his friends something to do that they could physically manage, maybe at least, so that they wouldn’t let themselves stew too long worrying about things they couldn’t fix right now. Sara was staying at her house, but Ursala had a room in the palace, which she was sharing with another Countess. She didn’t know if the other woman would object to him being there, but the tall blond took Tor’s hand and led him along to the shared space anyway. If that didn’t work he could always grab a blanket and find that utility closet again.
In the room the other woman stared at him when he came in then stood, and bowed low.
“Master Tor.” She said simply. The woman looked a little familiar, thinner now, light hair that wasn’t really blond, but wasn’t brown either, being something in between. She was the one that the other counts had listened too in that long ago meeting, he remembered.
Tor bowed back and stepped forward, his hand out which, oddly got him pulled into a tight embrace.
“Thank you for saving me so that I can make good my vow to destroy Count Ward.” The woman didn’t let him go for a while. Finally, when she did, Tor got it. She was the one that survived, but whose husband had died when poisoned. Holly something? He didn’t know.
“Sorry, I recognize you of course, but unless we want to play a game of me not knowing your name for the night while trying to figure it out without seeming like a moron, I need a full introduction I think. It’s Holly…” Tor winced realizing she was within her rights to chew him out for not starting with her title. Instead she bowed again.
“Holly Printer. Countess Printer if it comes to that, but you can call me dog girl if it will get you to keep helping me.”
Tor smiled.
“Let’s go with Holly, if that’s all right? At least in private? And as for me, I’m just Tor. Torrence Baker if it’s something official. No title of note or anything. Definitely not a Master Builder yet, as I learned the hard way the other day. I built those shields and it left everyone totally open to electrical attack and that death dust. I need to fix that as soon as possible. Sorry, not the topic… That I’m just Tor is actually what I was going for.”
Holly didn’t laugh, but she smiled gently. Ursala explained the shortage of beds and Holly shrugged without comment. The other woman had a hard feeling about her, the kind of thing that suggested total commitment to a cause in Tor’s mind. Sleep with a short builder in the room? Fine. As long as it didn’t stop her from reaching her goal. The destruction of Ward.
Well, Tor could do a bit to help there maybe, while he waited for Trice to heal up enough to travel. He’d said two weeks, but that was pretty silly. If she even got herself to the restroom the next day he’d be happy with her.
The next morning he had supplies flown in from his house and started making copies of military gear until the meeting that was supposed to take place late in the afternoon. It was put in a large meeting room, because, instead of the five or six people he’d expected, nearly a hundred had shown up. Most of them royals, but a few were palace servants, some Royal Guards as well. To his surprise the kitchen boy and girl that had been burned were sitting not too far down the table, about half way, with a few sitting Counts lower than they were on the table. Tor nodded to them somberly. Their friend Laura had been killed. Of course they came.
The King sat near the head of the vast table, but not at it. He gestured regally and smiled.
“Torrence Green Baker of Two Bends, County Lairdgren, Countier four Lairdgren, savior of Galasia, protector of Rossalynd and defender of Ford against nature herself, Master Builder and man of true valor, please kneel.”
Everyone stared.
Tor blushed.
Then he knelt as instructed, before Rich had to push him down.
“Let it be known before all present, that if not for this one man, most of us wouldn’t be here to witness this event. Arise Sir Torrence, true Knight of the realm.”
Almost as one, embarrassingly enough, the room stood, including Connie.
“Welcome Sir Torrence.” She said softly, a tear in her eye.
“Sir Torrence.” The room spoke as one then, not somberly, but without humor in their voices. Then again, if the King claimed he was a Knight, then he kind of was, right? Richard even pulled out a paper that said he so and handed it to him with a smile.
“I’ll forgo the reading of merits and accolades, since we don’t have all day. Now, Tor, since you called this meeting, perhaps you’d share with us your plan?”
This was really not what he had in mind when he suggested the thing, but it would serve. Now all he had to do was lie his behind off and hope that what he said made enough sense to not seem insane or like he was a total moron. That probably wouldn’t be happening, but he could try. Trice caught his eye, sitting only about ten people down on the left, near Rolph actually, just above him. The hierarchy of this table was greatly skewed. He was being seated at the top and the heir to the throne nearly a quarter of the way down? The Queen was four people down and Burks was across from the King, at his own left elbow.
“Right. This meeting is about coming up with new ways to make war. I don’t care how strange an idea is, as long as it works. This isn’t a strategy session, though some of you here are in on that kind of thing too. You can give the rest of us guidance as needed.” Tor bowed and held it, standing straight on to the room, which should indicate he was including everyone. After a full half a minute he stood.
“All here are honored. Let anyone speak if they have something to say. Now, to get the ball rolling, I want to start a new project to defeat that death dust. Nanos?” This was addressed to Burks who nodded but didn’t interrupt.
“For the immediate future, we can hand out air chokes which will keep them from spreading until others have a chance to step in and deal with them, however that gets done. Soon I hope to have things out to stop that from being used against us again totally.” That said he asked if anyone else had an idea to share.
The general consensus was that taking the war to Austra, which hadn’t been done yet, was probably the best plan. For that they needed a navy and a way to protect it. Traditionally the Austran air ships had kept the Noram navy from being effective against them at all. They’d just sink the boats as they got close. But now they had their own air ships, so maybe…
This went on for hours, with Tor mainly just taking notes with a pencil on slightly brown, handmade paper. People got restless after a few hours, so a small break was called for, but just as Tor made the suggestion of a recess, a Royal Guard ran into the room with a message for the King. Everyone waited patiently while he read it. Tor could see that… the Royal Guard only ran when things were important, at least around the top royals, so it was already note worthy.
Then, taking a deep breath Richard passed the paper to Burks who looked at it for a few moments, and just nodded. It got passed to Connie whose eyes flew open and then, for some reason it was passed to Tor. Probably just because he was near the top of the table he realized. Part of the tradition. The words stunned him.
The message was from Count Ward, but signed by both him and his Countess. It was a proclamation of war against the kingdom of Noram. It was either the stupidest thing to ever exist, or Ward and his advisors really thought they could win. If they thought that, then someone was helping them. Probably the Austrans. Because in traditional arms, County Ward wouldn’t last a day against the King’s army, especially with what Thorgood, Printer, Ford and Ross were going to be able to bring to bear in a few weeks time. Tor stopped for a second and nearly grinned. Plus Thomson and Lairdgren too as well as anyone else with people willing to take up arms for the kingdom. Not knowing what else to do Tor passed the message back to the King, who stood.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Counts and Countesses. Worthies all. This message saddens me to no end, but is unavoidable at this point. Count Ward and his County have declared not only their sovereignty, but war upon us all. Preparations must be made now. All forces need to rally and prepare to remove him and his forces from our shores. No matter the cost.”
Ursala stood, chair clattering back, tipping behind her.
“No matter the cost.” She said, her voice firm, carrying across the room in an echo that resonated inside Tor’s chest a little somehow.
Holly stood next, and screamed it so loud her voice broke a little.
“No matter the cost!”
Everyone else that could stand or yell did. Even the palace help.
Tor nodded and stood himself, then without saying anything, walked back to his room.
He had work to do.
Apparently cost wasn’t a factor anymore if the chanting could be believed.