The two hour long trip through the winding streets of the Capital reminded him yet again how much he disliked carriages. The road here was really pretty nice, smooth, with well fitted stones that should have been like riding on glass under the wheels, so it wasn’t the roughness of the ride. No it was the close space around him while the whole thing moved. The little jolts and divots in the road that would have gone unnoticed if he could see outside through more than a tiny window, left him feeling a bit sick and disoriented instead.
It would have been so much better if he could have just flown.
That got him thinking, which at least distracted him from the ride he was on if nothing else.
What if he set the flying rig to go slower, no more than say, twice what a carriage could do, and fly only a few inches above the ground? Did it count as flight at all if you were still shorter than everyone else around you, and went no faster than a very quick person could run? It really only had use the Capital of course, unless other cities started to decide that flying inside their limits should be forbidden. Still, it would be easy enough to make happen, and might make a fun toy for kids. In a lot of ways easier than a real flying rig too. Not so easy that he could make one riding along in the back of this box on wheels, but he was able to do most of the planning for it.
That had gotten a lot easier with practice. Planning out new builds. He used to have to take note and work things down over several times, but now it was just mainly going through the whole thing mentally first. Way easier.
The carriage, unfortunately, got him to the gate about half an hour before seven. The driver helped him offload, and then left, having already been paid. Too bad, because Tor had been willing to pay the man for his time to wait and at least see if he had to leave or not. The gate guard wouldn’t let him stand out front of course, so Tor had to walk up and down the street while time passed, his luggage following him along so it wouldn’t get in anyone else’s way. What did they think he was going to do, camp out in front of the gate?
The idea of a lean-to made of scraps from around the city tickled him. He could set it up right next to the little hut that the guards hung out in, using the wall around the palace for one of the walls and the corner made by the guard shack as the other. It was all pristine white already, so he wouldn’t even have to paint. Maybe he could pump water over the palace wall from the pond garden and set up a little pool that floated in the air for bathing? Of course he’d probably have to fight with the Royal Guard daily and there were no restroom facilities out here. Maybe he could build a separate lean-to for that? He didn’t really know how to dispose of waste, so it would just have to be a bucket or something like it for now, but he’d used worse.
Seven came, at least by the bells he heard ringing somewhere off in the city. They were pretty, deep chimes that would have woken the dead had they dared trying to sleep at this time of day within the walls of the Capital and maybe a little ways past the tall outer wall. Tor walked up to the gate, little invitation in hand, waiting to be turned away again. He actually held his breath as the gate opened, but they let him walk through and no one even tried to kick him out yet.
Or broke his legs. That was good, because walking was still hard enough as it was.
Tor kind of remembered Varley or Karina mentioning that he was supposed to be met by the King and Queen, but no one else was outside. Not even a servant to tell him what to do. He’d come to the correct gate, hadn’t he? This was the main one… right? The courtyard was empty. Not even the guards were walking around in here. He’d have triggered his shield in case an attack was about to come… but didn’t have to. He’d never turned it off, not even for the ride over.
Nothing happened. It was just like everyone had vanished, leaving the world silent and still.
What was he supposed to do, he wondered, go and knock on the front door?
Chuckling a little, he did just that. Still, no one came at all. Were they pretending to not be home? That… seemed beneath them. He used the big knocker in the center of the door, but still no one came to let him in, or even send him away.
For a second he contemplated building a cutting field and slicing through the door, but that seemed far too rude and destructive. Even if he wasn’t welcome here anymore, it was someone else’s home, not something to be casually destroyed because of a whim. Or anger, no matter how deserved it might seem at the moment. Shrugging he decided to walk around to the back of the building and see if he’d just gotten the wrong place. Maybe he’d misunderstood the directions. He knew it was the right day, or the guards wouldn’t have let him in.
When he saw the small outbuilding used as the kitchen he got what must have happened to delay everyone. Then nearly panicked.
Black and gray smoke was pouring out and flames had engulfed the side closest to the palace. It was far enough away that he could barely hear the shouting. Looking around he didn’t see anyone near him, so he activated the flying rig, hoping that this being an emergency and not technically “in the city” would get him out of too much trouble. He struggled to dig out an “air choke” from his waist pocket with his right hand; it was what the people fighting the fire up in Ross had started to call them.
It worked; you just had to make sure no people were in the field when you turned it on. Of course, hands still clumsy, and far too shaky to not look palsied, he managed to drop it on the ground, and had to land to find it. He still had everything else at least. He checked, fire or not, because someone accidentally checking their food with his little “poison snoop” explosive would die. Anyone around them for a long distance would too. It kind of needed to stay with him.
Clutching it tightly in his right hand he flopped up to the burning building, where some people screamed at others not to try and put out a grease fire with water. The water group didn’t listen, being made up mainly of guards. The Queen stood back, not trying to yell anything, just looking scared, Varley was next to her, both dressed up very prettily, but that was so normal for them Tor ignored it almost instantly. The King shouted orders, but he was supporting the water group.
Stupid.
All throwing water on a grease fire did was spread it around. No wonder it had gotten this out of hand.
Tor tried to sound strong instead of sick when he yelled at Richard. He looked at everyone else too, but the King kind of needed to shut up.
“No! Clear the building. Now! Clear the building! The airs going to not be breathable in a few seconds! Get out of the building and stop throwing water you morons!” Tor had to use both hands to steady the field as he darted in the door. The air stopping effect focused around the first thing the line of sight touched, other than air itself. In this case a blackened work table that had once, probably less than half an hour before, been a nice piece of sturdy oak. It still was. Half of it was just charcoal.
Once the building was cleared, it only took a few minutes to have the fire under control and about five more minutes to make sure that the hot grease wouldn’t re-ignite. The shield he wore kept most of the smoke away from him, not all of course, because it had to let air through too and some of the smoke was too fine to keep out and still breath.
This time he wasn’t even soaking wet after.
Thank goodness, because really this was his best set of clothing. He still had the ones that he was supposed to wear to the birthday party, but they weren’t his, belonging to Rolph. Anyway, if he’d worn those, they’d smell like grease smoke right now, if faintly.
He backed out of the smoke filled kitchen shaking his head.
“Well,” he quipped, loud enough for everyone in the yard to hear. “I think we may need to make other plans for dinner. Is there another kitchen?”
The tall gray haired woman that had given him food one time ran to him, crying, and gave him a hug.
“Thank you! I thought for a second that the whole thing was going to go.”
He patted her back awkwardly with his shielded hand and murmured in her ear.
“It’s all right now. It’s OK.”
He was released by the cook only to find himself grabbed from behind. The arms couldn’t crush him, since he still had the shield in place; Tor tuned, more than a little awkwardly, to find Connie struggling to hug him, Varley trying to join in and Richard valiantly, and ineffectively, tried to clap him on the shoulder.
After a few seconds he slowly stepped back from them. He wasn’t trying to give offense, but the whole thing was a little overwhelming, especially since he didn’t know where he stood here. Not really. For all he knew some of these same people might have helped poison him. Or at least ordered it. Hardly time for hugs and cuddles.
There was crying off to the side, it sounded young, and like more than one person. Tor looked and found the source of the noise, two kids, a boy and a girl, both looking about twelve, and more than a little familiar. He didn’t have names for them, but they were familiar from some of the functions he’d been too, as servers. The two little ones at the back that normally brought the plates and silver.
The girl had white blisters going up her right wrist and the boy had similar burns on both hands, his left having taken the brunt of it. Crap. Tor left the King and Queen standing without a word and ran to the kids, gasping from even the small effort. He didn’t know what to do. Minor burns just got some cool spring water and a loose wrapping at home, but these were way worse than anything he’d seen before.
A voice, dark and husky, male it sounded like, but in a kind of way that he couldn’t really be sure, spoke from behind him.
“Such wounds should be cooled. I have pain medicines in my bags that should help, but no advanced healing gels. They look like second degree burns only, so as long as infection isn’t allowed to set in, they should be fine. I’ll run and get those medicines, if someone here can see to some cool water or ice? Don’t let ice touch the wounds directly, put it in water!”
Tor turned to see a pink and blue dress or robe hurrying into the palace faster than he could have run being pulled by a horse. The skin was very dark, but he couldn’t see the face. What that person had said made sense though.
“Ice? And a bucket or large container of water? One for each of the burned people if we can manage it.” Tor spoke the words gently, but a purple and black clad Royal Guard ran off and started organizing the unharmed servants as if the King had ordered it himself. Probably just glad that someone had a useful suggestion.
Throwing water on a grease fire…
Ice they had, the cold boxes still working perfectly, they just had to use some little hammers and chisels to break ice off of one of the big blocks and float the chunks in water for each person. Four guards got the water for them and brought the buckets directly to each child, running with them quickly, but not spilling even a drop. It was like they’d practice this, just in case, or something. Tor knelt down trying to explain to the kids as they kept crying.
“Alright, this shouldn’t hurt at all, but it will feel cold, don’t be afraid, it will make you feel better.” He didn’t really know of it would or not, but the boy put his hands in first to his bucket and stopped making noise almost instantly.
“Thank you sir. Go ahead Gemma, it helps a lot.” With this recommendation, the young girl put her right hand in the cold water. She kept crying, but much more softly.
Before anyone’s attention could come back to him, a running figure burst from the palace door and moved towards them fast enough that all of the palace guards had their hands on their belt pouches. No one drew at least, which was good, because it was just the dark skinned person that had gone for medicine.
Looking at the individual in question closely, Tor still couldn’t decide if they were male or female. Pretty either way though. The colors of the robe were bright, pink and blue, with a few green strips around the edges. If the person wore shoes at all normally, they’d flown off in the run, because bare feet stuck out below the legs now. The skin was really dark, an even tone much closer to true black than anyone he’d ever met. The eyes were a glassy light blue, and the hair was a bright and fiery red that made Tor think of a bird as to the color. Male or female, they were certainly fascinating to look at. Beautiful even. So Tor used the excuse of watching them apply the medicine to the kids to observe.
They held a small vial, filled with something red, that when used to draw a line on the skin all the way around the arm above the wounds apparently got children with burns to stop crying instantly. It was a miracle really.
“Hey children, this is the good pain medicine, so you won’t feel much of anything for a while. Don’t worry, your hands are still there.” The smile was straight and bright, almost glowing from the face.
The Queen went over to the strange looking person, and bowed. It was a low and humble looking thing coming from the Queen, but the colorful person bowed lower and longer, making the move look graceful and planned. If Tor had tried the same thing he would have looked like a backwoods hick trying to put on airs. Of course just standing there he probably managed that anyway, didn’t he? Tor snorted softly to himself.
“Thank you Ambassador Mutta. Your concern and aid is most appreciated.” The King put in, which got him a tolerant smile and nod of the head without even a glance in his direction.
“It is only what one does in an emergency.” The ambassador turned to look at Tor, and suddenly smiled, a big toothy thing. “Ah! Finally someone correctly sized! I was beginning to think that everyone here was trying to outgrow the others for some kind of contest.” Mutta must have been a full inch taller than Tor so he smiled back and winked.
“Not at all, the goal is to be the shortest when you’re fully grown. So far I’m winning. Of course I haven’t told anyone else the rules yet…”
“Hah! Someone with a sense of humor. Are you the court jester then? The one that tells jokes and stories to amuse us? Do you sing and dance too? It was suggested in my briefing packet that there might be such. Can you caper merrily? I don’t know what that is, but it sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” The ambassador actually seemed excited by the idea, clapping their hands a little bit.
The King and Queen both looked horrified, but Varley had to hide a smile behind her hand. Tor just crossed his arms playfully and sighed loudly at Mutta.
“No… I applied for the position, but wasn’t cute enough. Instead they hired some giant guy named “Alphonse”. Now, I personally don’t think he’s funny at all, but what can I do? He’s got family connections here.” Mugging slightly Tor pointed at the King and Queen then shrugged exaggeratedly. The Ambassador laughed hard.
“Alphonse! That is the heir right? I met him earlier. He is indeed quit funny. He kept trying to set up a marriage for his younger sister Karina with me. She seems like a very nice girl, but I didn’t get the impression that she was interested in women particularly. Still, it might be interesting, what with her light colored skin and all. That’s rare back home, so you all look very pretty to me. You especially. You have the lightest skin of anyone I’ve ever seen. Even my grandmother is darker, and she is… The Gray Lady.” The last bit was confided with a leaned in body posture and said softly, but easily loud enough for everyone else to hear, so meant for their ears too apparently. The Queen smiled, but Richard had to fight to keep his face calm for some reason. It didn’t look happy at all.
Did he not like Mutta or was it him? Or… really, maybe he was just worried about the burned kids or what they’d do for dinner. Tor decided not to care for now. The man would tell him or not. He focused on the strange woman and nodded.
“I can see how that might happen, you look incredible to us as well. Bright like a bird, and your skin looks so smooth and even. Stick around for a while and by this time next year woman at court will be dying their hair to match yours. Failing at it too, probably. But you know, mimicry is the highest form of flattery they say. Though… really, I’ve always been partial to bribes myself. They seem to work better.” He shrugged again and made a funny face.
“Not that anyone has ever bothered to try and bribe me, not since my little sister Tiera wanted me to do her chores for her for a week once, so gave me an old, almost broken cutter she’d found. That really worked out for me though, since it was what started me on my current path in life.”
Not that he knew what that really was any more. Tor wasn’t a student any more. He wasn’t a baker, though that was still possible. He wanted to keep making his devices, but could he? Well, he had money to hold him for a while at least. Ten, fifteen years if he didn’t waste it. That should be enough time to figure something out.
“Oh, what is your current path, if it’s not jesting that is…” Her tone was suspicious for some reason, but in a playful way that made him smile a little.
“Right now? Itinerant wonderer. A few hours ago I was helping to put out grass fires up in County Ross. We managed to save the Capital there and all the major cities. Unfortunately a few isolated farms got hit hard, before we could get to them. Some people died, but most of that was before we, the people from my old school and I, got there. That’s all done now, mainly, so I’m kind of floating around at loose ends. This is the last official thing that I have to do. I really just came to see if they’d let me in any more and resign my Squireship. They did let me in at least, so things are looking up.” He looked at Richard and Connie and then pointed at where the building still smoked a little. “I take it that the fires why you didn’t meet me like I was told you would, or,” He frowned a little, thinking. “Was I actually in the wrong spot? I thought the gate on the other side was the main one, but what do I know? This is a long way from Two Bends.”
Connie wrung her hands a little. “No, it was just the fire, we heard the alarm and came to see what had happened, it wasn’t that big to start with, but it kept growing even as we threw more water on it. Apparently the children here dropped a pot of hot oil?”
Wincing, Tor explained that oil floated, even if it was on fire, so they spread fuel all over the room with each splash of a bucket coming in. Richard, who’d been calling for more and more water, orders that everyone else kind of had to follow, closed his eyes and winced hard himself.
“I see. Oops.”
Tor snorted.
“Yeah, oops indeed. Well, you get it now, so live and learn, right? I’ll leave some devices that can help with things like this in the future.” Why not? It wasn’t like it cost him anything. Even if they hated him, it wouldn’t help if the palace burned down.
Taking a deep breath the Queen looked at them all a little desperately. “Now we have over a hundred people coming in less than two hours and the kitchen is functionally down. We have a backup kitchen, two of them in fact, but not enough personnel to get everything done in time. I have to go help, I’m afraid; I was going to show the Ambassador around for a while but…”
Mutta bowed low to the Queen again.
“Were my skills such, I would aid you in the kitchens, but alas, I am but a physician by trade and never learned the domestic arts well at all.” The woman actually sounded humble about it, as if a little embarrassed by her lack of skills.
Tor looked around slowly, taking stock of the situation. Half the kitchen staff was sitting down having wounds dressed. None hurt as badly as the children maybe, but bad enough. Burns, even minor ones, hurt when you got near heat at all. Like ovens and stoves, or even hot dishes. Making them go back to cook injured like this would be worse than cruel. Barbaric.
“I can help with the baking at least and whatever else I’m told to do. Varley… You can follow instructions right? So, um, go get Rolph and Karina as well as any of the house servants that are willing to try and help out and let’s see what we can get done, alright?”
This got a soft gasp from the Queen for some reason.
“Tor… We can’t ask you to do that, not after everything…” Connie walked over and gave him a hug or at least tried to. The shield held her away again. Richard seconded that, his tone going a lot warmer suddenly than it had been before. So it was Mutta the King didn’t like?
“She’s right Tor. Someone tries to kill you with cyanide and then… Well, yes, we need to talk about everything later, but pushing you until you drop isn’t exactly what we had in mind for your visit.”
Wrinkling his nose and closing his eyes a little he told them that he’d be fine.
“I’ll only push right up to the brink of death, then take a short break and get some water before starting again.” He marked this out with flat hand gestures, marking each bit of his plan in space.
At least Mutta thought it was funny. She had a rich and warm laugh. Almost fake sounding, but she knew enough to try, so that counted, right?
Getting the house staff organized was easy in a way. All Tor had to do was stand back and give baking instructions and make sure everyone got where they needed to be in the kitchen. He also watched the bread. The starter the palace used was mild, an almost sweet form that he’d have loved to steal a culture from if he was going to open his own bakery ever, but he didn’t need it right now, because the dough for the rolls and small loaves had already been made earlier in the day and about sixty percent of the baking was already done, in another building too, so it wouldn’t all taste like smoke. He and his crew definitely had the easy job. Some of the diner dishes had to be restarted and at least two replaced all together, since the food was too damaged to be used and took too long to make to simply redo in time.
One of them was a dessert, a custard that took about six hours to make, so Tor made hand pies using Debbie’s recipe to replace it. They were all apple raisin, since he had limited time to get the apples peeled and raisins soaked in apple juice, much less do several kinds of filling, but there were about ten people that could be put to the coring and peeling task. For some reason he got all the royals on his team, including the Queen.
Tor figured it out pretty quick.
They were there because no one else wanted to try and tell them what to do. They were good enough workers, especially Rolph, who started off with the idea that they had to hustle. Varley caught on pretty quickly, and worked with a will after being shown what to do. Karina was a lot better with a knife than he’d figured too, quick and efficient, not timid at all.
The Queen sucked at it, but only because she kept trying to run off and manage the kitchen, which largely meant getting into the cooks way. The woman was biting her tongue so hard Tor worried for a bit she’d sever it. But then, she couldn’t exactly take the Queen to task for getting in the way could she? Someone had too though, or nothing would get done. Tor sighed. Ideally it should be Rolph or one of the girls, since it would be hard to order their deaths, but none of them seemed to see any problem at all, not knowing anything about how a kitchen actually functioned.
“Connie!” Tor finally mock roared at her. “Sit down and do your own work. Your cook is one of the best in the kingdom, but if you keep ordering her to do different things, nothing’s going to get done in time. She’s the expert, and in this she knows what to do better than you do. This is her kingdom and she rules her. Now help with the apples, like a good kitchen girl or we’ll never get done.” Connie blinked, smiled, and sat down. Then she started peeling carefully. Laura, the cook, didn’t even crack a grin, just took a deep breath, nodded once at Tor and got back to work.
He focused on the light pastry dough and then making the filling, getting them all in the oven just in time for Burks to show up and stare at him meaningfully. The man stood out, being at least as pale as Tor was. Behind him were three other servants, all looking at their errant royals the same way. It sent a message, even without words.
Tor tried to claim that he needed to stay, but one of the real bakers for the palace came in and told him to go ahead and get ready, since all the hard work had already been done. Trying not to seem desperate, Tor explained the icing and made up a quick batch for demonstrations purposes which got a perfunctory nod. Tor had an odd feeling that the baker thought he was another of the house servants needed for his real job. Possibly dish washing, given how he was dressed.
Well, as long as they didn’t burn the pies, it would be all right. They’d even be fine without icing if it came to that. Not as good, but some people liked them a little less sweet. Even Debbie made both for her shop. The iced ones sold two to one over the others though.
Burks didn’t pull him all the way back to a real room, instead he found a small space that was about five foot square inside in a small corridor next to the kitchen. Without hesitating the good looking black haired man made him strip and change right there.
Well, the guy had already seen him naked, so no big thing, right? Embarrassing, but…
Apparently it was an issue.
“You’ve lost weight. A lot of it. I’d suggest that you eat more… sir, if that can be worked into your schedule?” Burks sounded a little sour about it, as if Tor had done it on purpose or out of pure neglect for his own health. It was half true, but still…
Tor snorted out loud, making his face as wry as possible, a little half grin and raised eyebrows.
“I’ll work on it, but between work and getting poisoned like I was, it’s been hard. Still, as far as I know, from now on I have nothing but time.”
“I’d not heard you were poisoned sir. Has the… culprit been apprehended yet?” The voice that had been a little disproving, and maybe playful, was suddenly deadly serious and sounded cold, as if the man intended to see justice done himself if need be.
“Nope. Sucks too. I mean, two months ago I didn’t think that anyone in the world would more than dislike me a little, maybe call me names, now I keep having to look at everyone like they plan to kill me. I’ll let you know as soon as something breaks, if anything does. You can help me bring them to justice.” Tor had tried for playful, but it sounded odd and serious when it came out. It was how his voice resonated still, he decided, with the slight rasping and popping.
“Very good sir. I shall stand ready to assist in any capacity needed.” The man sounded so sincere that Tor just nodded. Every time he turned around here the man was doing something to impress him, apparently without even trying. Tor felt himself almost tear up for a moment. It was humbling to see someone so good at their job. Probably why he worked at the palace. Cream of the entire kingdom for sure.
The clothes that had been brought were a little too loose, a fact which Burks cleverly hid by making them even looser, rather than trying to tighten anything. Tor got a nod at least, and if it wasn’t approving as to his looks, at least the servant didn’t tell him to play sick and not go to the dinner at all.
In fact the man kind of pushed him out of the little room a few moments after the last lace was tied, and everything double checked rapidly. While he’d been busy in the kitchen, people had been arriving and mingling it seemed. Well, he’d feel bad about missing all that, but… no.
He just couldn’t be bothered to.
Tor had to turn the shield off to eat, but made sure that he had a poison detector to hand, a real one that wouldn’t make anything blow up. He had that one too, and his flight gear on him ready to go if he needed it. All of this Tor kept hidden, wearing it all on cords around his neck.
This time he found himself only a little ways down the table from the King and Queen, Rolph directly across from him and Connie to his right. Next to him sat Ambassador Mutta, who smiled hugely when she saw him sit down next to her.
“Aha! I knew you must be someone important! Are you related to the King and Queen then? Or an official of some sort? Or… are you really the court jester? That’s an important position isn’t it? Making people laugh is one of the great gifts a being can have after all.” It was said so sweetly and with such innocence that Connie had to cover a laugh. Not a royal twitter or polite covering of a fake laugh, but a genuine one that caught the attention of people down the table a good ways.
“Oh! Or are you her lover? I know that the royalty here engages in a system of much looser relationships than what I’m used to, it was in my briefing packet.”
That got everyone’s attention indeed, and not in a good way. The King glared at the Ambassador, but Rolph snickered a little.
Tor just answered honestly.
“No, nothing nearly so fun or interesting. I just got kind of left off some lists, so their sitting me up here so everyone can see that I’m not out of favor or something like that. As for the rest, yeah, their rules are different than what I grew up with too. Don’t let it worry you too much though, you aren’t obligated to actually have sex with anyone if you don’t want to, though once they find out you’re a single woman, I don’t doubt that the offers will come. You’re far too exotic to ignore. Really, we should probably get the Queen to handle all the proposals for you, just so you don’t end up overwhelmed with men trying to marry you or something. Don’t you think Connie?” He added the last in a whisper.
The Queen smiled and nodded, then spoke in full tone so that the entire top of the table could hear.
“Indeed. Any man seeking Ambassador Mutta’s hand in marriage should come to me directly, as proxy for her own mother, at least while she’s in our kingdom. Don’t worry ambassador, I won’t agree to anything without your say so. This will just keep the wolves off you for a few days.”
Tor hoped they weren’t being too obvious, but he’d had such a hard time figuring out her gender that saying it out like that might help the word get around, stopping some embarrassing suggestions. Rolph blushed brightly and looked down at his plate. So he got it at least.
The first course was a small bowl of nearly clear broth. Almost as one, about half the table checked the food for poison using detectors, so Tor did too, then he waved his over the ambassador’s bowl, which was also fine.
Then he coached her not to eat until after he did. He leaned into her slightly, not touching her at all, but just close enough so that his words weren’t shouted to the whole table.
“Checking for poison, then it kind of goes down the table, we each take a single bite, with the people most likely to be poisoned at the far end. I don’t get how it’s supposed to work myself, hence the poison detectors.”
She pointed at the copper rectangle sitting next to his knife on the right hand side.
“Do they work? The Queen said you were poisoned once?”
He nodded.
“Both. I just forgot to use mine, which was insanely stupid of me. I was alone and felt comfortable, and well, where I was raised no one ever does anything like that. Very rural. Near the middle of a forest actually.”
That led to talk about her country, Afrak, which like Noram was the entire continent.
“I’m not actually a real Ambassador. We don’t really have that position strictly speaking, but the … leader decided that it was worth investigating the floating river here. We could move water to the great desert, but the one here takes sea water, desalinates it, and moves it hundreds of miles without any perceivable extra energy cost! If we could work out something like that we could achieve our dream of recovering that land. It used to be a mighty forest, thousands of years ago. We have the workers to do the needed planting and tending to get it started, even the seeds ready, but water has been the problem for the last thousand years.”
Her hands gestured in the air expressively as she told him about the plan. It sounded good to him. Take useless land and make it green again. They could feed millions off of it, not that they needed the extra food production, their population being very stable, but it was always nice to know that you had the capacity she let him know. It made sense. Really good sense in fact.
All of this had to be learned slowly, because they were interrupted by food coming. Really, you couldn’t tell that anything had happened in the kitchens at all, the flow of good food was normal for the palace, which meant perfect. But with each course everyone stopped and first checked their food for poisons then took their first bite in turn. They were good at it, so it only took about a minute each time, almost like a choreographed dance or something.
The only problems that Tor could see was that the Afrak needed at least three, maybe four rivers like the falcon for what they wanted to do, and each of them would have to cover at least a thousand miles or more if it had to go around a mountain, which they almost certainly would. That and drainage on the way out.
“Sure, the desert will take most of the water, but if you don’t spread it out you might as well be making a lake or small sea there. An interesting project maybe, but not exactly what you’re going for I don’t think. Earth moving equipment will be needed to create irrigation and canals for that. We have some, but right now their designed for doing relatively small scale work on sewers and doing things like building foundations. That could be changed for this I think.” Tor took a bite of roast beef. He was only eating about a third of each course, which Mutta copied easily. Looking down the table he saw that Varley was doing about the same.
The idea was interesting, and certainly doable, making the rivers to get the water into place at least. He was careful not to mention any of that though, because he knew nothing about Afrak. Mutta seemed fun and colorful, but for all he knew she was the one nice person in her whole land. That could be why they chose to send her after all. Best foot forward and all that. He’d never heard of aggression with them, but what he didn’t know about world politics could fill volumes. Still, if he didn’t have anything else to do he could probably get it all ready for them in about two weeks. Call it a month and he wouldn’t even have to push very hard.
Sure, he’d promised Ellen Ward a wall, but that would take a few days at most. The gear for was sitting in his chests, which had been moved into a closet here. If he had to make it again for some reason it would take longer, but not that much. A day, no more than that. Of course he doubted that the palace staff really wanted to make off with his luggage particularly. Even the one filled with gold would be a silly to abscond with since he’d take exception to it. Now if they only took a few bags of gold out, especially from the bottom, he’d probably never miss them at all.
The hand pies went over well, he thought. The kitchen served them up topped with very chilled sweetened cream that was somehow light and frothy. It wasn’t quiet the fluff he’d had before though, but it was very good. The pies were still slightly warm even.
After the meal there was something a little different than the last time he’d been at something like this, in that the King and Queen “retired” to a sitting room near the back of the hall, a space that was cozy only by comparison to the outer room, which was simply huge. The chamber in back was identical in look, polished wood trim, all dark hard wood for the walls and fixtures. The floor was all polished stone, but nearly black in color. If he looked hard Tor could just see veins of different colors in the black expanse. Green, blue and red, all so dark they nearly vanished into the surrounding inky expanse.
What went on in the back room wasn’t lounging it seemed, but high level deals of various types. To his, and probably almost everyone else’s, surprise, Tor was requested to come with them. Rolph was too and Karina started to walk in as well as if expected, only to have the Queen send her off with a smile. Tor shrugged. He really didn’t care if the girl knew what went on. Then again, someone had to stay and represent the King out front while they did whatever it was they wanted to do to Tor. Skinning and eating alive came to him as one possibility, but that was just crazy thinking on his part.
No one could eat that much after a full meal like they’d just had.
He hit his shield amulet, turning it on before he entered the room. If anyone noticed, they didn’t blink at the action, but then again he really didn’t care if they did. It wasn’t that he thought anyone was going to attack him here, but he still didn’t know who’d tried before. Or… really, there wasn’t a good reason for it. He just didn’t feel like trusting anyone now. Not anymore.
The King started, his face long and a bit sad looking.
“I owe you a big apology, several in fact. I’ve been trying to think about how to make things right with you, but really, nothing has come to mind. You simply don’t seem to want anything I have… Which is humbling. Normally I could just buy a person’s good will with a title or a titular advancement, instead it seems I have to beg you not to let go of what you have already. Please don’t?” The King didn’t bow or even look particularly humble, for all his words, but then, he was a King. Even saying something like that was probably a big deal for him.
“The first time you were turned away from our door, well, that was a simple error, as I think you can see? The guard looked for a different name than was written down. With all the titles and marriages that go on in our society that kind of thing happens. No one would really think twice about it, unless they decided to go to war over the slight, of course. It’s rare, but battles have started over less. Even a few recent skirmishes. I simply ask that if you must do so, please keep this between you and me personally? I promise it was not my intent to harm you in any way, but for a mistake, no one else should suffer.” Slowly Rich rubbed his left temple as Connie gasped softly.
“Richard?” She whispered the word, barely making a sound, but the King shrugged in response.
“Alphonse is ready, if it comes to that end dear. I don’t believe it will. Torrance Baker is an honorable man, but not falsely proud or concerned over such things, I don’t think. I don’t think he’d take my life over this even if I’d had him spurned publicly on purpose.”
Tor blinked and looked at Rolph, who nodded but didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and then the Queen, who looked nervous suddenly.
“Um, what?” He spoke quickly, a little too loud for the room.
“Why would I… I don’t understand at all. It’s your home… if you don’t want me hear, then that’s your right. I’m a bit worried that I made someone mad at me, and that’s why I left the city. I just didn’t want anyone to go after Debbie or anyone else for helping me, if I angered or insulted anyone by mistake…” He faltered, it all sounded so stupid, even to his own ear. As he started to blush a bit something strange happened.
The King bowed. Not a very deep thing and not a standing gesture, but real, none the less. He held it for nearly fifteen seconds before rising up.
“Indeed. I promise that isn’t the case however. As I said, it really was a simple error the first time. The second… well, that’s the one that I have to stand ready to answer for, isn’t it? After having the children deliver the invitation like that…” He sighed and put a huge hand on his giant head. Connie reached over gently and patted his other arm, as if consoling him.
She still seemed worried, which Tor didn’t get at all. She spoke softly then, voice low, deeper than he’d heard it before.
“If that had happened to any noble it would be considered an act of war or at least something in which redress would be sought. Even as a Countier… I beg you not blame others for this, I… stand ready-”
The King looked at her suddenly and shook his head, silencing her.
“No dear. I rule here, the failure was mine alone, and the punishment for it must be mine.”
A silence came into the room then. Tor didn’t really understand it all. Oh, he got what was being said, the King was offering to face him in a fight, or maybe just let himself be killed, to prevent a war. What he didn’t get was why. Over being turned away at a gate? It wasn’t a fun thing, but it wasn’t a matter that should cause death. Especially one of a King. What did they think he was going to do? Star a letter writing campaign? Call them names?
That would just be compounding the situation, wouldn’t it?
Richard sighed and shook his head, more slowly, dark hair not moving at all.
“What happened the second time, that was all my fault.” He held up a hand to stop Tor from saying anything, so the smaller man just sat in his chair in front of the rather intimidating red thrones, a small gray thing that was about right for him, but must have felt like children’s furniture for half the nobles they had in to chat with.
“Honestly, I’d forgotten that the event had invitations at all. Even if asked, I probably would have assumed that you’d be staying here with us by then and not need one. It never occurred to me that you’d feel honor bound to stay and work in a local bakery. I… well there’s no excuse. We should have detailed a man or two to walk you in personally. That no one thought it would be needed, well…” He held his hands up.
It occurred to Tor that he was probably supposed to be angry and demanding, that they expected him to yell or make threats or something stupid like that. He just didn’t care that much anymore. Oh, it had been embarrassing, and he’d feared that he’d done something really wrong at the time, that maybe they’d come to try and kill him or worse. Maybe even hurt his family or Debbie. He didn’t know what could be worse than that, but they could probably think of something or hire experts to do it for them.
The big thing had been that he’d brought a guest and was embarrassed in front of her. She’d been kind enough about it, to his face at least, but he didn’t doubt that others had heard about the whole thing in a way that showed him in a less than favorable light, not that people’s opinion of him was that good to start with. His voice was quiet as he mentioned all that.
The Queen nodded and looked directly into his eyes.
“Yes. I’ve heard some of it myself through channels. I promise you that where it’s been found, we have all personally refuted it. What I can confirm to you however is that none of it seems to have come directly from Baronetta Coltress. You have rather a staunch defender there in fact. I had an audience with her to express our apologies and found her… charming, after her initial… coldness. She told me, to my face by the way, that if Richard and I were too blind to see how wonderful you were, we didn’t deserve to have you as a guest at all, much less a friend. That had to take a good bit of… conviction coming from a young lady of her rank and social options. Stuck in that awkward place between being too high too comfortably associate with the merchant class, and too low for almost anyone else. I believe I smoothed that over well enough for now. She showed me the collection of devices you bestowed on her. If I didn’t know you better, I’d have thought you were trying to win her over…”
Rolph, not looking at anyone in particular, softly said a single word in a perfectly flat tone.
“Don’t.”
“Ah…” Connie replied. Then Richard jumped in to change the subject.
“Well, if you’re satisfied that this whole situation is due solely to my own incompetence and not due to malice, which I swear on my name as King and by my breath and blood it was not, perhaps we can move to the next item of business? I’d truly love to not have to get down on my knees and grovel, or have my Kingdom torn apart.” The man didn’t smile about it, and looked directly at Tor.
What was he supposed to say to that?
“Um, I think you people are going a little over the top here. It was either a mistake, or someone just doesn’t like me here. Neither of those things needs groveling and no one would insist anyone be harmed over something like that, would they? Let’s call that done and be friends? If… anyone has a problem with me, please come and simply tell me though? Even if in private. I can… go away or change if it’s something I have control over…”
For some reason everyone stood then, almost as one and bowed towards him, smiling. Connie had tears in her eyes. Before he could scramble to his feet everyone sat though.
“Wonderful! Thank you Tor. There’s a lot to get through and not that much time. Which is real enough, even if I am changing the subject on a high note on purpose. People will only wait so long to be called after all. Then they start getting restless. We don’t want a reprise of the great wine glass rebellion after all. We lost over two hundred pieces of fine crystal that night. “Accidents”.”
Tor thought he knew what the next bit would be about. Her. Trice.
Instead the King asked for an update on the fires in Ross, and then what exactly he’d been doing up there. It wasn’t exactly heroic on his part, but they all seemed happy enough with what he’d managed to bring to the party. Except the part about the massive super explosive weapon.
“I’ve seen a demonstration of one of your, erm, smaller devices Tor. Why on earth would you make something that can do even more damage than that?”
“Um, well, I… don’t have an army? If I have to fight one, I’m going to need to be able to do a little more than just stand and be beaten like some kind of spineless moron with the personality of a doorstop. You know?”
“I… see.” Richard didn’t pursue it any further at least, not directly he took a deep breath and nodded to himself for a few seconds, as if thinking about something. Finally he just nodded.
“So,” The King continued after a few moments, the words drawing out at a measured pace. “Do you plan on making war on Duchy Morgan?” The tone was soft and serious.
The laughter bubbled up out of him. Really, he couldn’t help it; it got worse as he watched their faces fall, concerned looks all around until Rolph suddenly stuck his tongue out at him and laughed along. Sure, the laughter had a strained, maniacal edge to it, but that didn’t matter. It was just the very idea of a great open battle field with him standing on one side and ten thousand men standing on the other. When he caught his breath he tried to explain.
“What am I going to do? Kill thousands of people because my little feelings are hurt? That’s… not sane. I mean, even if Eric and Mercy were behind trying to poison me or… or if it was Trice herself,” The idea struck him harder than he’d thought it would, once he said the words out loud. It seemed too likely when he thought about it. But the idea hurt too much to bear.
“Well, going “to war” like you all keep saying, would be punishing innocent people for what a guilty few had done. I was really mad at first, sure, but now that I’ve had some time to think about things… no. I won’t do that.”
The Queen looked relieved, which Tor understood, it was her sister’s family after all. He swallowed before he said the next bit, but it had to be said, it had to be out in the open so that the King didn’t get caught off guard later. That, Tor knew, catching the man unawares, had to be a bad plan.
“But… Connie, if they come after me, or if they try to hurt my family… or reputation or… or anything… I won’t hurt innocent people over it, but I won’t let that stand either. I don’t think that means “going to war” as you all keep saying, but… I won’t just take it either.”
Her face fell, and went pale, but next to her on his own throne, Richard started to nod slowly.
“That’s fair and wise Tor. No one expects you to simply roll over and die on command, or to take abuse heaped and thrown. I’ll take your word not to go to war over the issue as a pledge? We’ll endeavor to make this clear to them before anything negative results.”
After that was said, Tor kind of expected the meeting to be over and for him to be sent on his way, or perhaps back to the party. What happened instead was that the King, without preamble called for some servants to come and rearrange the chairs, placing Rolph’s on the King’s right side, the heirs position, and Tor’s on the left of the Queen, which she whispered to him was the Queen’s Councilor’s position. She said it with a sad grin.
Since he’d basically just threatened to do something vaguely menacing to her sister he wondered how the woman managed to even bear having him in the same room with her, but shrugged it off mentally.
It was probably just that they were used to nobles getting in a snit and making threats like that all the time. Tor doubted that he could kill anyone even if they were trying to kill him. Even when he thought that Wensa was actively going to murder him, the closest he got was threatening her and that really only worked because as a Royal Guard she would have done it, which meant she had to figure Tor would do the same. Totally different mindsets
New chairs were brought in, nearly matching the ones he and Rolph had, wood almost stained black, with deep forest green cushions on the seats instead of gray. The backs had ornate carvings that he envied the workmanship of, now that he had a chance to really see it in front of him. Whoever had made these was an artist, not just a furniture maker. The whole room was like that, when he glanced around. Filled with art, built into the very walls.
He’d grown up in a room he shared with all his brothers that didn’t even have paint, much less art. Very different.
It struck him then that he really didn’t belong in a place like this. It was like trying to make water and oil mix, and stay that way. You could work hard, shaking and stirring frantically, and get it to kind of looked mixed for a while, but eventually the truth of how different they were came out, the oil separated and floated to the top. Of course he wasn’t the rich oil, but the plain water underneath. That was probably what had to happen he realized. It was why he couldn’t be at the fine school any more, or marry Trice, or even be loved at all. He was too plain. Too bland.
But like water, sometimes he could be useful, couldn’t he? Water, as much as anything, common as it was, made the world work.
The first person to be brought in was Ambassador Mutta who smiled when she saw him and gave a small wave. He winked back, knowing from what the strange woman had said that she was nearly as out of place here as he was and could probably use a friend about now.
Couldn’t they all?
It was interesting, watching them all dance politically, and the delicate interplay of words, that Mutta stumbled over and that nearly put Rolph to sleep. The Queen, oddly enough, handled almost all of the discussion, which alternately seemed to amuse and displease her husband. Finally, a little abruptly for the room apparently, Mutta held up her hand and smiled.
“What I really want is one of your above ground desalination systems. I know that my people can’t make one, the best we can do is a small trickle compared to what I saw on the tour last week and how it floats in the air like that… Well, what would it take to get you to part with it?”
The King smiled and flatly refused.
“It’s too valuable to us, even if it’s only needed every few years. Perhaps we could loan it to you part time?”
After about ten minutes of this Tor started shaking his head, which got the Queen’s attention.
“Tor… Something?”
“Yes, that won’t work. It’s like I said at dinner Ambassador, you need a lot more water than that, and a drainage system in place on the ground or, well I suppose an overflow system could be built to take things back to the ocean in the air, but that kind of defeats the purpose. You really want irrigation that will run constantly. The distances are too great anyway. The falcon wouldn’t even reach half way for what you need, not from what you said and if you’re going to do it right you need a much higher volume of clean water.”
The woman’s face fell.
“I see. So there’s no hope of this working for us?”
“Not that way. I’ll have to build all new field devices to get the work done; it will take a couple months. Well, that’s not really honest, I could do it faster, but I’ve got a wall to build first, and a few other small things to take care of and I don’t want to neglect my other promises. Also, you know, I don’t really have a home right now, being an itinerant wonderer wasn’t really a joke, so I need to get that together. But I think I can get the work done in two or three months baring emergencies. I…”
Across from the Queen the small, very brown, woman goggled at him, her mouth coming open a little. Then finally she smiled and nodded.
“Ah! A joke I see? You are the jester then? I haven’t been clear on that. I really expected more singing. That and bells. The description in the packet spoke of bright colors and little shoe bells. Though there was some confusion as to if that is a Tellerand thing or not.”
Laughing he shook his he’d. “Oh god no. You really don’t want me to sing. No, it’s not a joke, the thing is, I don’t know if I’m allowed to do this for you. Can I deal with a foreign power on my own? That seems a little like overreaching on my part. So you have to go through the King on that. If they,” he gestured at the royals as a group. “Say it’s all right, then I think I can get the rest done. Well, the equipment side at least. Your people will have to do the actual work and get the seeds in the ground, then tend and monitor the whole thing. I’ll really just do the easy part.”
For some reason Mutta kept acting like the whole thing was a joke, even after both the monarchs assured her that not only could he do the work he promised, but was allowed too. After a few minutes the Queen looked at the ambassador and explained again in a fairly forceful voice. A little snappish really, considering she was dealing with the Ambassador of another land.
“Mutta. I know that Afrak is run and controlled by women, but here in Noram we don’t have such artificial restrictions. Tor isn’t the court jester, as funny as he’s been tonight. He’s… a builder, a wizard. Young, but one of the greatest in our land. He makes field devices, magic we call it. The flying river you so covet? He built it. By himself, alone. In less than two weeks. While lying in a bed with a broken ankle he got saving two poor children from a collapsed well. He nearly died in that event, but he didn’t allow that to prevent him from saving a portion of this land from drought. I assure you, if he says that he can do this for you, man or not, you’d best believe it will be done.”
The Ambassador stood suddenly and bowed to the Queen. Then as an afterthought to the King. At least now that bit of interplay made sense to Tor. In her world a man just couldn’t be in charge, so she had to make herself remember to take the King seriously. Or at least pretend to. It hadn’t come in to play much with Tor, because he just wasn’t in charge of anything. Even him running off to help with the baking had probably seemed normal to her. It was the kind of non-important thing that people that weren’t leaders did, right?
As if seeing to the food wasn’t important.
Tor had gotten along perfectly well without having a King or Queen handy most of his life and had never needed a doctor at all, but he ate several times every day. People really needed to get their priorities straight. Farmers, cooks and craftsmen were at least as important as a King. Not that he’d tell the royals that. That would be stupid.
They had armies, so everyone had to pretend they were important.
After that though, the strange woman took the idea seriously, even if she did keep giving Tor funny looks. Incredulous glances that spoke of her not really believing it all. Oh, well. Maybe she’d change her mind when she saw the rivers flowing into the desert? Possibly not. Cultural expectations could be hard to change, and Tor would still be a man, no matter what he did.
Mutta didn’t have a specific price in mind, but certainly seemed willing to offer recompense for the work to be done. The King informed her that the kingdom itself would allow it without cost as a sign of good faith and peace, but that she still had to contract the work with Tor himself. The serious tone he used made Tor laugh out loud, which made everyone in the room stare at him for a second as he clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just… Been a hard month. Tell you what Ambassador, good faith dealing here all around. I’ll deliver all the things I said I would, make sure it’s up and working and then you can pay me whatever you and your people think it’s worth, alright? You don’t like the work, you don’t have to pay anything. You can’t get a better deal than that, can you? You can all decide to pay with some chickens and a slap on the back if that suits you.”
At that the woman stood, smiled hugely, and bowed to the Queen again, nearly prostrating herself on the floor. Rolph had to hide a laugh himself when he saw the look on the King’s face. When the woman went back to the party, less than half an hour had passed. The King smiled then clearly relieved.
“Well, she’s not good for the ego, not mine at least, but I have to hand it to her, she didn’t stretch things out overly. I half expected us to be in negotiations for months on this one. Can you… really do the work though Tor?” For all that he’d seemed confident a few moments before, now the King looked worried.
It occurred to Tor that these people had to worry about a lot of things, didn’t they? Sure, everyone did, but the King seemed to feel responsible for everything. Kind of the job though, wasn’t it?
“Oh, well, yes. Really telling her that it would take months was kind of a lie. I explained that though… I could have it all to her in a few weeks, I just kind of wanted to have a little time to work on some other things like I said. It’s selfish of me, but there you have it. Especially since I doubt I’ll get paid for it anyway. Still, it really is worth doing. Just to help turn a dessert into something green like that. How could I not help?”
Before he could finished the thought the next group of people was ushered in. His chair wasn’t moved at all, and no one asked him to leave, so he just sat as the people bowed to the King and Queen. For the first time he could remember they all bowed to Rolph to, if not as deeply and even gave him small half bows, looking a little uncertain of his place. Apparently they were important people, because no one bothered to introduce anyone to him, or him to them. That last part made sense, because he intended to just sit and listen anyway. Perhaps they were supposed to be known on sight?
It grabbed his attention when he realized that the people on the right hand side of the row of chairs appeared to badly desire to go to war with the people on the left.
“We demand satisfaction!” The older man on the far right fumed, his face going red.
Then white.