“Wait…” A round faced girl that looked to be almost normal in height to Tor, so about five-three or so, probably taller if she stood straight, said sounding baffled. Same short, dyed black hair, and gray workman's clothes, but with a bust line that would have put Petra to shame and on a much smaller frame, so it looked that much larger over all.
She was cute.
“If he's Master Tor, then why is he working in a bakery?”
That got a shrug along with a gentle grin.
“Why not? I know how, and the owner of the shop is running the part next door. It never hurts do your share, right?” Tor said simply, trying to remain polite.
He was sleeping with Karina now? Since that had never happened and they hadn't even kissed more than a peck on the cheek something was definitely up here. From the look on her face “Kari” had been the one telling tales too. Well. What should he do? Ignore the jibe? That would leave his friend in distress though. Right, well, distraction time then.
“You're eye… accident, illness or born that way?” He said, indicating the patch with his whole hand. It was less rude than pointing, the book said so.
The girl, Lilli, told him about the illness that had hit five years before leaving her unable to open the eye and even when pried open she couldn't see from it. As long as she wasn't born that way it was worth a shot. Tor pulled off his healing amulet and handed it to her. He would have anyway, even if “Kari” wasn't with her. Didn't people know anything about him at all?
She clasped her head, screamed and moaned dramatically and finally slipped the eye patch off, showing a normal eye underneath. The wrong color, brown instead of green like the one on the other side. She looked in a mirror that came from one of the new amulets, just something Tor had made up the night before, since regular mirrors were generally of poor quality and expensive. This one reflected light perfectly so she noticed right away.
She didn't complain or even seemed bothered by the effect, she just grinned. Tor had thought she might have a problem with it at first, seeming a little entitled in her manner, kind of like some of the more annoying nobles, though a bit short for that. She was only about five-ten or so.
“I'll take it. Brown is a good color, boys like it, and now I have something that makes me simply unique, not crippled.” She kissed Karina on the cheek warmly and put her arm around the short busty girl.
“You're it then Kari, for a whole year. What do you want us to do? Bath you with our tongues? I know I enjoyed that one myself… Or, I don't know, dance naked in the streets? Do drugs until we can't stand and let questionable men do things to us?”
These were her friends? They sounded both close and like horrible people at the same time. At least Lilli did. Well, no wonder she'd wanted to impress them so much. It was probably self-defense. A tall buff colored girl in the back, who was pretty, except for a horrible case of acne, moved forward and asked how much the pretty temperature equalizers were. She looked about sixteen and said her name was Yardley when asked, sounding a little shy.
It was a strange name but easy to remember. He handed her the healing amulet without even thinking about it, or asking if she wanted healing, which was rude. Tor winced internally but managed to keep it off his face. They all watched her acne fade in a few seconds. She looked in the mirror and started crying, then pulled her shirt up in the back exposing perfect skin. Lilli rubbed her hands over it and pronounced it smooth as silk.
That looked kind of like fun touching the girl like that, but other people were staring at the girls, so Tor got them to move to the side so he could work. He had a bakery to run after all, he mentioned with a wink. A few minutes later they were all standing and looking at amulets wistfully.
“Fifty gold? No, I don't have that on me today. Thank you.” Yardley muttered quietly to Debbie in the other room. She sounded really sad. Given the heat out, he couldn't blame her. He wore an equalizer himself and he knew Karina did at the palace. She didn't now though, probably so she wouldn't be rubbing her wealth in her friend’s faces.
That was kind of her.
When the people coming in lulled a bit Tor went and got four of the glowing equalizers, the same number of magical clothing devices and told them that they could have flying rigs and shields if they agreed to his terms. They agreed before he even said anything. He was tempted to throw a tongue bath in, whatever the heck that was, but his tongue felt pretty clean right now, so he skipped it.
“Pick your schedule, but a couple times a week walk around town in fancy costumes wearing the amulets, I don't know, glow, keep changing clothes, what have you, and tell people about this place. Better in the richer parts of town of course, the stuff isn't cheap… Each time someone tells us they came here because of you, if they buy something of value, so a magical device, not a hand pie, I'll give you a new something or other. Probably something random you don't want, and you'll have to share amongst yourselves, but not a horrible deal I don't think. Oh, also mention the new ice manufactory outside the south wall if people look hot. Other things might be added over time. Is that fair?”
They agreed seeming pleased enough, and said they'd come to visit at his house, regularly, to check on anything new he wanted them to do, which meant he needed to get some food in or something. Guests. Well, could be worse. How he didn't know, but the shop wasn't on fire when they left, so that was a plus.
The next few days went like that, with Debbie giving him half the gold at the end of each night, and, shield or not, getting him to walk her home at the end of the day. She didn't live far, but he could see the nerves, since she was carrying enough gold with her she couldn't physically lift it. That could be a tempting target.
Tor made her a special trunk amulet. The idea was simple enough and could be used for flying or walking. If you wanted to leave it in place you had to leave the amulet too, but the whole thing disappeared on command, meaning you could have a dozen of them with you at a time. It certainly made it easier to take stuff with you in an emergency. Plus you could pick the size you needed and even make them look any way you wanted, from simple flimsy fruit crate to solid gold casket.
Debbie invited him in a few times, but Tor always claimed he needed to do something else, sleep or work all night on one thing or another. It was true enough even, though part of it was that he didn’t want to take advantage of his business partner or ruin her reputation, having strange men in her place at night. Neighbors would talk, and while they might mean well, wagging tongues rarely improved things for anyone.
On the fourth day Debbie had a relative of hers in baking, a tall man that looked like one of his own brothers, but bigger. Debbie seemed happy enough about it, and told Tor that he wouldn’t need to stay. Not at all. Actually on that point her voice went a little cold.
It left him oddly adrift. He'd rebuilt the rivers for Afrak and the massive earth moving equipment they needed, but there was no way he could ditch the investigation long enough to go. It made him a little sad, because he really wanted to see the exotic foreign land.
Plus he was even the Ambassador, for now, at least.
It occurred to him that the King might have a plan, or be able to come up with something he just wouldn't think of, so Tor went to visit and as an aside, check to make certain his obligations to Smythe were being met. Well, as long as those duties didn’t involve him dying for no good reason.
That plan sounded simple, if nerve wracking, but he wasn't three feet into the complex before Varley met him and drug him inside to a little alcove where they'd kissed before a couple of times before. She grinned at him and motioned for him to drop his shield, which they had an agreement for, a kind of joke, where he let her kiss him when she wanted, if it was safe, as long as she wore her shield the rest of the time. When he did, she dropped to her knees, at first he thought she was going to apologize for getting pregnant, which really wasn't needed, since that had happened before the engagement. A bit bad to do it out of wedlock, but certainly he wasn’t owed anything over it.
That… wasn't her plan at all. Instead she started working on his trousers, loosening them, pushing him back towards the wall a little.
“Um, what are you doing? This is kind of public, you know?”
Varley didn't stop, but did giggle and keep working for a few seconds before speaking.
“We could go to my room if you want, but that's no more private. I can't go to your house, going twice this soon would look like a pattern, so it's here or in the middle of the hall. Take your pick.”
“What, no third choice, like, let's not?” He looked at her seriously and refastened his clothing. It wasn't that he didn't want to, god he was tempted. Her mouth looked so soft and inviting… But no. It would be too embarrassing by far and if someone accidentally caught them, a page or the King, what would they do then? Her hands became more insistent.
“Tor… I, I can't marry you. It's complicated… Let me do this, please?” She sounded sad for some reason, which made no sense, but Tor let her do it anyway, and then cuddled her as she cried softly after. Cradled against his chest. It had been fun, in a sexy, naughty way, but the tears just made him feel bad.
Wrong. Like he'd taken advantage of her.
He hadn't hurt her, Tor was experienced enough now to know that, thanks to the lessons Countess Thorgood, Ursala, had given him over the last several months. Sara Debri had taken her turns too, probably just so he'd like her enough to keep her around and let her spy on him. Honestly it was a good trade, but if he'd known at the time he would have bargained for more.
The rules were different, more gentle, for friends. He'd certainly been doing a lot more with Collette and Petra since he figured things out, not being mean or hurting them, but certainly trying some things that he hadn't believed were real when Ursala had told him about it.
He held and comforted her until she was ready to stop crying. Whatever she was mourning the loss of, it was important to her. Tor didn't fool himself into thinking it was him. In royal marriages there were rules, but those could be negotiable. Highly so, he was coming to learn. Still, it felt not just strange and evil, but dangerous to go from the girl directly to her father, but the palace wasn't a place for him to go poking around alone either. That was asking to get lost. Or suspected of being a spy.
Just to make things more awkward, Varley insisted on taking him, holding his hand the whole time as if afraid to let go. Like she might fall from the face of the planet if she did. So, feeling awkward he let her lead the way, wondering if the King would have a report on what his daughter had been doing already or not.
Smythe, conveniently enough, was talking to Richard when they came in. Well, as convenient as finding the person that possibly hates you the most of anyone in the world in a meeting with the one man that could, theoretically, order you to do anything. Really the idea didn't reassure Tor a lot once he thought about it.
“Take the boy back to Ward, then each of the event sights, as needed. Depositions, questioning all that. Can the lad take notes do you think or should we bring a scribe along?” Smythe had his back to the door and when checked didn't have a shield on. He didn't have any other fields on his person either, other than his own innate one at least.
Rich looked over the other mans shoulder, right at Tor, but with unfocused eyes, like he did in his memory trance. Tor had only seen it once on the man, but it was something a lot of the special school kids did, which might say something about the King’s early education. Eventually his eyes returned to the military Counselor.
“I'll assign a couple Royal Guards, a team of four, so that both of you will have a scribe that can handle a fight. I'd really rather you didn't try to use Tor as a servant William….”
“Think he'd kill me if I did?” The voice, that Tor had heard going smug and smarmy after his people had been thwarted in an assassination attempt was… just politely interested. For the world it sounded like the Counselor, for all he kept trying to kill based on fear, wasn't afraid for himself at all.
“God no. The thing is William, he'd do it. You say, please help me scrub the toilet to humiliate him, and he won't just grab a brush, he'll work for days until he has a magical device to do it for you then, make a hundred copies for you to pass to your friends at need. It can be delicate, preventing that. Ask the wrong thing and he might work himself to death.”
Tor snorted derisively, loud enough to catch both men’s attention.
“I could make that in a day, or if you want a toilet that appears from nowhere at the tap of a sigil, in two hours, if you insist I make a new one. Otherwise I can send for one right now without doing any extra work. They have a little building that pops-up and everything, for privacy. Those are automatically self cleaning, so it's kind of worth it, but a regular toilet will still last longer in raw years, if you take good care of it and start with a good one. But… my hand writing isn't great. Kind of slow. Good enough for notes, but I wouldn't want to try interviewing someone with that being the only record…Oh!”
He wanted to slam himself in the head and would have but the shield would stop it anyway.
“How about a device that people can talk into that will repeat their words later? I already have that, I can extend the time and make it so that it will pick up anything in a given room, I think. Again, a few hours tops. Could that help at all?”
The older man chuckled easily, an almost friendly thing.
“Yes, and if you have a device that lets me talk across the kingdom to the other side, let me know. The biggest impediment to cases like this is the time factor in communications. More than once we've had investigations go sour because everyone died. Of old age. Enough of them to destroy our case at least.”
Tor pulled inside himself. He could produce sound, and if he sent the information from one place to another instead of holding it in potential, that would be a start. It would need some way to contact more than one point, if everyone was supposed to have one, it would be too hard to make direct contact with each one deployed…
“OK… by tomorrow?”
Everyone laughed, so Tor did too. After all, it was funny, he didn't even know how to make the selectors work. Ah! It jumped into his mind full blown. Make them all using a central device, then train all of the units to it, making physical contact the first time, then taking them to their final location, already linked. Give each place a sigil that would show on each speaking plate? Well… That would work.
Smythe wanted to get to work the next day, but also wanted to use carriages. Tor balked there. Transports would work as well, be hundreds of times faster and cost less. No horses to feed or broken wheels. Besides, he told the men, the longer this took, the greater the chance that something would go wrong and everything would end up in civil war again. Instead Tor suggested the King request a pilot and a transport for the people going to and fro with them.
As much as Tor hated carriages, Smythe didn't feel that a transport would give a proper feeling of authority. Tor offered to paint one to look like a carriage and even build a little cubical that would be stuffy and uncomfortable for the whole ride if the other man wanted, just to give the whole thing the proper feel. Yeah, he was being a little dickish about it, but the other man was too, so as a conversation it worked.
Though to his mind, the red-black of focus stone was intimidating and kind of grabbed attention. It could be made to look like almost anything, if he wanted though. It would take extra time, but would still be faster than going overland. Going by old style Not-flyer would be faster by far, or taking a boat. But that wouldn't get them to half the places they needed to go.
The debate continued for a bit. Smythe had flown and enjoyed it, and could still fly, but didn't want to, again the dignity thing, so it wasn't fear of being too high up, it really was just the looks of the thing? Tor focused trying to get a feel for the man, and found the real reason lurking inside him.
He was trying to draw things out, so that he could think up a way to get rid of Tor. Not kill, but send away, so he could work unimpeded. Tor blurted out that he'd never heard something so silly. Which got the older man to raise his eyebrows sharply.
“Look, I don't think the King is trying to say I should do your job, or interview people or anything like that even, he just wants us to get along. If you keep trying to get rid of me, he's going to lock us up in a little room together until one of us dies or we end up fast friends. Since, well, frankly we'd both get pretty ripe after a few days, can't we compromise on duties? I'll handle travel, communications and, I don't know, food, or… clothing. Whatever you think is fair. You do your investigation thing and I'll jump in if you tell me to and otherwise stay out of it? I know I don't have your skill or reputation in this. I'm not pretending I do. It would be ridiculous for one thing. You're not blind or sitting in a prison cell because of your skills… That isn't lost on me.” In fact it had been his idea, but Tor didn't point that out. No need to push the guy after all.
The King finally decided for them, they'd go in two days, by transport and if they didn't get along, he really would lock them in a little room together. The tone of his voice was serious but his mind blank, which meant he was really joking. If he was serious he'd have let his pattern show it, right? It made sense, but who knew with royals. Maybe he'd just try to go blank when Tor was around from now on? Tor tried it just to see what it was like.
It was pretty normal feeling to him, but then he spent a lot of time that way, didn't he?
Heading home, Tor wondered how he'd come to this pass.
First he made an enemy of a powerful and well connected man somehow. The devices he'd used to try and kill Tor showed that, if the high title and rank wasn't enough. Now he had to basically live with the same man for the duration? Whee. It seriously wasn't fair that Tor had to put up with an individual that had tried to kill him, twice. No normal person had to put up with this, did they? No, the bad guy was just put to death and everyone went on with their life a little better for it.
Except that sometimes people lied. And sometimes they thought they told the truth but didn't remember things correctly. Could he build a device to show that? It would… be halfway easy, he realized, blinking. He already knew how, and had done parts of it with the King himself. The emotion sensing amulets worked on a similar feedback idea even.
The next two days involved work for him, no matter what Smythe of freaking Westend was up to, which given their history probably included buying up and testing magics to kill Tor with.
Constant and unending work, but he managed a full ten hours sleep before he had to go to the palace complex, well nine of sleep and an early morning hour of cuddling with Petra.
That was nice, cozy even, but Tor kept wondering if she meant it. Was she just spying on him for her family and using sex or pretended affection to get close to him? Sure, he could have checked on what her field said about it, but Tor wasn't sure he wanted to know. He liked her. If she didn't feel the same way, it would hurt. But not knowing was hard too and caused him to pull away, keeping his distance emotionally. Could she tell that yet? Probably not, all the work he'd been doing would make him seem a bit slow and at a remove for a while, since he'd been so deep the whole time. That would mask things a bit.
Three novel builds in two days.
Tor had to feel a little proud of that. Well, at least if they all worked. He had to test things first, but the devices all felt right at least. That was a good sign. It meant he was starting to get a real feel for things, maybe at least. Unless he was delusional. Tor smiled and shook his head, because he was far from the point where at least some testing would be needed each time he made something, wasn't he?
Tor went to the palace early, the morning light still just coming out of false dawn, people on the street, but only sporadically yet. Mainly tradesmen and people sweeping their walks while it was still cool enough to not be a horrid experience. He stopped at Debbie's to drop off a few devices for sale, which she thanked him for, coolly, as if he'd done something wrong.
Another thing? He didn't have enough to deal with already? Still, as a friend he had to get to the bottom of this if he could.
Smiling a little weakly Tor asked her to explain, and not play games with it, since he had to leave the Capital inside a few hours. It sounded a little rough, but he wasn't trying to be mean, just get past the normal three weeks it took for women to explain why they were mad at him. She actually started on the whole “you know what you did” thing but he stopped her.
“Debbie… let's skip this part and just pretend that we went through the weeks of you saying I knew what I did, with me walking around pulling my hair out trying to think of what that could be. I haven't stinted you on money, and yeah, I gave some devices away, but trust me those girls wouldn't have been buying anyway and may get the word out…” He threw his hands up with a little, worried, smile.
Then she told him, bitterly, that it was nothing.
“Oh, forgot that part, OK, so now, moving past that, me going on about how it obviously is something, you claiming it isn't for days and we get to the real reason which is…”
She laughed at least, which was better than crying or hitting would have been.
“Well, I… I made clear overtures to you, inviting you in after work, suggesting we go out to eat and you keep turning me down! I'm not ugly, am I? Or unpleasant some way? I-” Now she started to tear up.
Oh… that. Well, he really should have known, but being a moron, what could be expected of him really?
“Debbie… well, it's not fair to you, but it comes down to this; you look too much like my older sister. Taller, but if we dressed you the same, at a distance people would be fooled. So really, I can't do that. It's nothing wrong with you, you're very good looking, so is Tamerlane, both great looking actually, but you can see that right? How it might be off-putting to me?”
It ended about then, with her clearly not believing that was his real issue, but apparently seeing it as a good excuse for all that, as if he were putting her off for some other reason. What that could be he just didn't know. He'd really told her his actual reason. Then she loaded him with a small trunk field loaded with gold for his trip. It wasn't his share of the last day’s proceeds, it was just so that he'd have money to invest as he traveled. He'd gotten her doing the same, helping out vendors, working on projects to help employ the cities poor and things like that.
The idea had actually been Countess Printers originally. Tor had wanted to use some of the money from sales of items there to help people, after the storm, but she pointed out that giving things away only worked in the short run. That people needed to work and earn their place to feel good about themselves. It made enough sense that he'd tried to adopt the practice himself, when he had extra funds. Yes, it meant he'd never have as much gold as some people, but how much did he need? He could make his own luxuries to a good extent now and didn't even need to buy clothing any more. Personally his expenses were down to food, and bathing supplies. What would that take, four gold a year? Ten if he splurged and ate out a lot?
If he couldn't afford to share, who could?
Debbie had also given him a small box with food for the trip, pastries and meat hand pies made by her relative, who turned out to be her brother. The man was called Box, but that couldn't be his real name, Tor didn't think. Still he smiled and seemed happy enough to be baking in the city with his sister. It seemed that he’d had some problems in their home village and needed to get out of town. Something about a girl, Tor thought, but didn't pry.
It was a good job, the man said, a friendly gleam in his eye, and he'd met a girl already, who he was pretty sure only wanted him because his sister had all those magic things, but she had sex with him, so that was fine for now, right?
Shrugging Tor pulled out a few amulets from his own gear and passed them to Box, in front of his sister, so that she'd know they were pure gifts and not filched from inventory.
“Spread them out for a bit and make sure she doesn't get pregnant. Have fun, but don't saddle yourself with someone only interested in your wealth, you know?” The man clapped him on the back and whooped a little. Then brushed at the flour hand print he'd left.
Debbie looked at him sadly as he left, wistfully, as if attaching herself to him romantically would be something a woman might want. It made Tor wonder who she was spying for. Sure, it would have to be a new thing, but it could happen. For that matter Box could have been a trained spy. Well, hopefully the girl was real at least.
Spies need love too, right?
The gate guards made him wait while they tried to find someone that could vet him. He paced a little, but just for the exercise of it, he knew why he had to wait and agreed with it, even if it was a pain in the rear this time of day. Smythe of Westend came, but the main gate guard, a Royal Guard after all, looked down his nose at the man and shook his head.
“No sir. Needs to be one of the royal family. Besides, you keep trying to kill Master Tor. I give him over to you and he ends up dead, how does that make me look? We wait.” They did, but Smythe went in to see if he could rouse anyone. It took a long time, but the gate guard didn't change, so there was no threat of a beating if he didn't leave at least. That had happened before. The night he'd met Debbie in fact.
Finally, about an hour later a sleepy looking Karina came out with two familiar girls in tow. Lilli, who still had one brown and one green eye, and the short busty girl. They were all identically dressed in slightly shining gold dresses and floated across the ground using Not-flyers. When they got closer they all looked tired, exhausted in fact. Once through the gate he realized that all the girls were more than slightly drunk.
Brilliant.
The way to safety for a royal was always dressing up in bright clothing and making a display of themselves while drunk.
Probably why so many of them did it.
He shook his head and led them in, walking in a plain gray workmen's outfit himself.
“Seriously Karina… You too Lilli and…” He flounder for a second, he knew who Yardley was, the dun colored girl that didn't have acne any more, unless it came back, but this one…
“Ali.” She said, mustering up a smile through force of will. She was still cute, even half drunk like this, Tor noticed. A little round of face, and light colored of hair, but not blond, an off brown, he thought. She looked sleepy, like a little kid for some reason.
“Right, Ali, when you're here, try to blend with the servants, will you? Stand out in town to catch attention as advertising, sure, because the Austrans won't think that I'd have the Princess out working like that, I don't think. But here, try not to make yourselves a target, OK? You'll make the Royal Guard pull half their hair out and then they'll be all lumpy and funny looking, instead of dapper and conscientious, you don't want that, do you? Of course not.” He kept walking while they failed to even chuckle at his words. Well, it was early. Plus, they probably wouldn't be feeling too well soon from the hangover. Tor decided to leave them that, just in case it helped to curb further drinking later. It was mean, but was it really a kindness to make things too easy on people?
If he always did that, how would anyone ever learn?
The girls just wondered off once inside, leaving him on his own. That was fine really. He’d need help, but it would probably work better if that aid was sober.
Tor started in the King’s open audience, where Rich tended to meet with people most of the time, at least from what Tor had heard. It took about a minute for Tor to get someone’s attention, waving his hands and calling out awkwardly, but he started explaining how the communications device worked and finally, five minutes later, a half dozen people were standing behind him, wanting him to explain again. Three Royal Guards, two servants he kind of recognized, including Quavel, the Queen’s main servant. Her butler? Something like that, and last was Squire Gemma, who got a hug from him. Their shields bumped, which made him grin and whisper “good girl” gently into her ear. It sounded like he was talking to a dog, which made him wince a little over her shoulder, but she seemed happy enough about it.
The sigils, all in glowing light in different colors, weren't sigils at all, but spelled out complete names. By tapping a plate to the main device it was activated. It was naturally an unassuming piece of tan focus stone, nearly a true square about the size of a block of ice, with lights shooting through it to indicate it was working and make it look more interesting, since he wanted to keep it in the audience chamber for safety and ease of access. That meant it needed to look special, he figured.
Once turned on, all you had to do was tap a name sigil and you'd talk with the corresponding device as if you were in the room with them. Simple. Each time a new plate was activated the name showed up on all the other plates. Yes, he could only fit about a hundred on each, but who'd need something like this? The second name on all the devices was his and would reach the plate he'd carry with him. Tor explained it all four times, how a bright blue light would glow, signaling someone wanted to talk to you, their name glowing blue as well, raising a little out of the surface of the hand piece or plate, so you'd know who. You tapped it to talk, then again to end the conversation. Simple once you saw it once or twice.
When Tor left the room and tapped the Capitals sigil, Gemma answered.
“Tor?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, but became happy enough when he responded.
All he had to do was activate a plate for each Count or Countess and a few other key people. The plates were meant to be mounted, on a table or wall, so had holes in them for that, accept his, which was smaller and meant to be carried in a little bag of shear material so the light would show through if anyone ever wanted to talk to him.
Then they just had to pass the devices out and explain them to people. That he'd leave to these people and specifically tasked to Gemma, who looked pleased but uneasy. Quavel and the other servant looked like they didn't approve, but the Royal Guards all did. One of them, an older man slapped her on the back, smiling when he hit shield.
“Good. You don't learn responsibility unless you have it. People forget that sometimes.” Then he nodded at Tor respectfully before asking Gemma what she wanted done with the plates.
Tor found Smythe at the mouth of the room looking pale and slightly shaken.
“I see you did it. I know I asked but… will they work at the distances needed?” The man didn't seem pleased really.
Well, Tor was skeptical too. It was a new device and that meant it had to be tested, they all did. He explained that they should work anywhere, as if in the same room. Maybe even off in different lands, if it came to it. Smythe just nodded grumpily as they walked slowly out to wait for the transport to come.
It flew in from the north, settling slowly as was protocol when coming in to the palace complex, so that the Royal Guard wouldn't freak out and slap the giant palace shields into place. They'd done it a few times Tor had heard from Rolph, at first just to test it and then any time someone came in too fast. That meant settling at more than about a hundred feet per minute, which almost didn't look like it was really moving at all and took about ten minutes as they stood waiting.
“They really are a bit off. A cream and gold wood coach with the royal seal on the side gets people’s attention, lets them know that the people inside mean business. This off black shine looks nice enough, I'm not belittling the effort or effect, but it… lacks presence. Well, no help for it now, is there? Orders are given, it is for us to but obey.” The old man spoke abstractly, almost as if ignoring that Tor was right there. He did that, talking about Tor as if he wasn't standing right next to him sometimes too. At least he didn't seem to do that with a anyone else, not that anyone had said.
Standing in silence for his part, Tor watched the craft settle, it was a steady movement, skilled and exacting. It was probably one of the new military pilots, Tor guessed, since they'd started making a point of training them at the flight school and Smythe was, by some mistake or capricious design, still the head of the military, attempted murderer or not.
Tor got the idea, he could investigate with impunity, because he could call in the whole King’s army to back up his word, but it didn't make him feel any better. He was almost tempted to just fly himself. It would be nearly as fast and more comfortable once he factored in the stony silences and the old Counselor acting like Tor had been the bad guy in all of what had happened.
Just before the craft settled, not ten feet from the ground, four black and purple clad Royal Guards came out, each carrying a modestly sized canvas bag with carry straps. Smythe had a single trunk and looked back at Tor's four cases with a smirk.
He nearly explained that they were mainly filled with devices and gold to help set up businesses and relief efforts, but didn't. His actual gear, what he needed to survive, including housing, was on him. He'd miss the little bag with his razor, soap and tooth care stuff, but if he pulled that out, he could wear it discreetly on his side, next to the communications device. Smythe could smirk all day, but it didn't change the reality. Tor was more ready to pick up and move, even lose everything, than he'd ever been before. If someone stole his trunks now, or even stripped him of amulets, it would mildly inconvenience him, but that was all.
When the side hatch opened Tor had to blink. It wasn't a military man at all, but a military woman that stepped out. She still had short blond hair and smiled at him winningly, bounding down the ramp fast enough that the guards all went for their weapons. She stopped in front of him and tried to give him and awkward shield hug. Then she straightened and looked at Smythe, her boss. It was a bit blank, but polite enough, as if asking for an introduction.
Ah.
Tor realized they probably hadn't exactly met before. That made sense really. Sara was a spy and low level military member as part of her cover, if Tor had it right, so no-one that the head of the military would know on sight.
“Oh… Um, Sara, this is Smythe of Westend, head military Counselor and all around swell guy. Decent fighter too. Willie, this is my, um, friend, Sara Debri. Her mom heads the Debri merchant house. She's a sergeant in the army, runs supplies by air. Personal flying though, I didn't know she flew transports yet…”
It turned out she didn't, which they noticed when the driver crawled out from the front, dressed in a tan shirt made of silk and soft canvas pants in a similar color. Sorlee. It made more sense than her normal drab gray dresses he'd grown used to seeing her in. For one thing it looked kind of official and less like she'd just stolen the craft.
Great, another spy. At least he knew who they were this time. The Royal Guards, well that was so obvious they didn't really count as spies. They reported to the King. If they needed to strip him, turn him upside down and shake to get information out, they'd do it and not bother hiding the fact most of the time. The only one here he wasn't sure about was Smythe, but that didn't matter did it?
Assassins had their own category in his mind. Before anything else, Tor crawled in and checked out the interior, looking for traps, attackers or anything that might be troublesome. He didn't find anything, but suggested the more proficient guards check it too. He watched what they did, checking under each cushion physically, getting on hands and knees to look under each bench, tapping the walls to check for hallows or odd sounds. When they were done and piled out, Tor slapped an amulet to the inside wall, explaining to the guy in charge, the same older man he'd met earlier, who said his name was George and didn't give a rank, what he was doing. It went up with just a bit of tacky putty on the back, since it would take that or glue to do the trick on smooth focus stone.
Then he hit the sigil, getting a soft gasp from the people outside.
“Master Tor, it's so pretty! It looks like one of the grand carriages of the King. The woods all grand and shiny too. Did you change it into wood? Is that strong enough?” Sorlee had enough sense to be concerned about practical matters at least.
“It's still focus stone, the shield on the outside just reflects light to look like this now. Obviously,” he added for George and his guards-people, two of which were hard looking women that could probably tear him in half with a strong exhalation.
“We can fly with it in normal mode and decorate just before landing, so we won't be advertising who we are the whole time. That probably wouldn't be a problem, since no one has seen this before, but just in case, no need to tempt anyone.”
Tor hit the sigil so that everyone would know how to do it. Pretty basic really. He left the little tan focus stone square on the wall of the craft, since they'd want it later.
In the back the Royal Guards all sat together, and Sara settled right beside him, smiling and happy to see him, or so it seemed. Sorlee waited for everyone to be seated, closed the heavy counter weighted side door that they'd all used as a ramp and then flew off a good bit faster than she'd landed, headed nearly due east.
Tor did a quick inventory of what he had on, device wise, knowing that he clanked a little when he shifted and his shirt bulged in the front. Both hands had devices held in place by leather thongs too, for flight and Not-flyer controls. Shield, of course. Then without speaking to Sara at all, he closed his eyes and dropped into a working state briefly. Not to be mean or even work on some project or another, but so he could examine how her arms worked when she moved.
The field portion of the movements. She wasn't helpful, holding remarkably still for some unknown reason. So eyes still closed he poked at her arm. She'd taken her shield off and so had he, which made her think he was trying to hold her hand apparently. It worked well enough. When they touched he could understand what her brain was doing to process sensory information from her left hand. He stroked it gently, and caught a sense of warm friendliness from the girl. Then, reaching over with his other hand he pinched her lightly. She didn't say anything but stiffened and felt slightly annoyed and bemused at the same time.
After an hour or so of this he opened his eyes and let go of her hand.
“Anyone hungry yet? I have some food, fresh from Debbie's bakery.” Moving to the back he pulled out the small box and offered it to the Royal Guards first, all of whom checked the rolls and pastries with poison detectors. All the food, each of them making certain it was all good, even when the person next to them had just done the same thing. The old fashioned devices he'd made about a year before, small copper rectangles still held solid fields. Then he passed the box to Smythe, who took a peach hand pie and nodded to him, but didn't check it for poison. Probably because he'd been stripped of all devices to keep him from killing Tor. Tor pulled his own, a glowing sigil on natural stone from the beaches of Printer and tested the food for the man. It was clean, so the older man started to eat.
But he gave Tor an incredibly funny look first. As if saying that if anyone in the world were going to try and poison him, he knew who to watch. It was ridiculous of course. Tor didn't know anything about such things at all. Like he’d do that anyway? It seemed really rude, even if the guy did keep making attempts on his life.
Sara took a small roll for herself and Sorlee, happy to be remembered, asked him to feed her bites of hand pie, a savory beef one, because she didn't care for sweets in the morning.
“You know, if we were back in Forest Far, this would mean we were married now.” The girl said it seriously, like she meant it.
Tor almost blushed, but shook his head instead.
“That's not the tradition there. By tradition if I fed you like this, your brothers and father would beat me and try to drive me from the village… If I didn't marry you instantly that is. The same as in Two Bends.” It was true enough, but the girl kept flying and gave him a knowing look.
“I know that, but then after whoring for all these months, I'm pretty much dead to them anyway. I can make up my own traditions now.” Her voice was a bit sharp sounding, but also held something else he didn't quite know how to explain to himself.
Focusing on her field for a moment Tor tried to pick up what she was thinking, it wasn't hard.
The girl was covering for her slip and wondering how long she could keep her game up. She was starting to do it with others, but no one had noticed yet. If she suddenly spoke too well, that could be played off as practice, couldn't it? So far it had worked. The only real danger was Tor. He was sweet, but that was a bigger danger to her than not. Her teasing and flirting deflections would only last so long. Plus she wasn't certain what he knew already.
Tor didn't get it in words, he just knew all this about her. With a wink he moved back to his seat next to Sara, even though there were a lot of other places to sit, enough for forty big people or nearly sixty of him.
Then she wanted to talk, if his morning meditation was over, she said softly, leaning into him warmly. He smiled and nodded. Why not? She could tell him all the things he'd been too stupid to get on his own. What she shared was all about people, some he knew, a lot he'd only heard about. It was all interesting, if in an odd way.
“My brother Kris is finally getting married. I just heard last week. It's a good marriage too, one we've needed as a house for a while. Meredith Sorvee? Kris said she's a little plain looking, and a widow with two children already, but her temper seems gentle enough and her dowry is about as large as any I've ever heard of. Apparently a benefactor delivered a nice chest of gold on her behalf, anonymously in the night. Two thousand gold, just sitting in a chest outside the door with a letter saying it was for her future and that more would come. Isn't that exciting? It's like a fairy tale. Some gallant Knight swooping in, or a rich priest taking care of a woman left in a desperate situation. Of course as a Sorvee, her position can't have been that bad, even if it was just by marriage.” Sara leaned against him again in a more friendly manner, the tale of Meredith obviously making her gooey girlish center all happy for a bit.
“Who do you think it was? That left the gold I mean?” She asked innocently, seeming not to remember that Meredith had asked for his hand once.
Tor shrugged. It was obvious to him, given everything.
“Dorgal Sorvee.” It was said with the matter of fact air of a person that knew a fact, not someone making a guess. Then, he did know, didn’t he? Oh, maybe he had some point in it, but then, by that thinking, so did Rolph. He’d delivered the amulets and devices after all. Clearly making good on Tor’s request.
Sara straightened eyes going wide. When she turned to face him her breath caught.
“The one that always called you names and tried to intimidate you? He… doesn't seem the type, does he? Sorvee’s aren't known for being generous to those in need. Oh, they won't let a distant relative starve and are even honest in their own way, but this…” Skepticism seemed to be going around that day.
Why not Dorgal?
“There's a difference between not liking me personally and being a bad person though, isn't there? Dorgal made some mistakes, but he could have tried to hurt me and gotten away with it back at school, but he never did. He threatened, and made me think he would, but in the end he held his hand if not his tongue. Kids do stupid things sometimes, hanging on to that doesn't help anything.” Tor grabbed a pastry from the box, leaving it half full and passed it to the guards in the back since they were all big enough to be hungry most of the time. Sara grinned and snagged a second one too.
They stopped halfway there so that people could relieve themselves and stretch their legs a bit. The breeze was humid, since they neared the southern coast, though hadn't put down on a beach. There was grass and some trees nearby.
There was no scent to the air, not for him, because his new shield filtered all that out pretty well. Sara picked flowers and got a smile from Smythe, who winked at her and kept walking in a large circle, getting what exercise he could. Tor went through a set of stretching exercises and then he and Sara had a practice match with shields on, so mainly punching and kicking, since throws were useless this way and holds hardly worked at all. You could, at times, bend a shielded limb to your advantage, but joint locks tended to fail with even a little squirming motion. One at a time the different guards came over and tried their hand against them too. They were all better fighters than he was, but Sara held her own, nearly. It was better than sitting at least and they worked with him too, even if he wasn't as much of a challenge, so Tor kept trying to do his best.
When they got back on everyone but he and Sara were sweating pretty hard. Was it warm? It took a second to find them, but he handed out the new glowing emotion tattling equalizers and suggested that people keep them hidden, unless they wanted to share with the world what they were feeling. Smythe wore no particular expression as he passed them around, until Tor gave him one too. Then the older man went cold and disproving.
Because obviously that was the polite thing to do when someone gave you a gift. Right?
“Trying to buy my good will with trinkets like a common whore boy?” He said, his voice mean and angry sounding.
Sara stared at the man, and looking around he noticed that everyone else was too. One of the Royal Guards let their hand fall to the weapons pouch at their side, the tall black haired woman that looked half hawk and still would have been exotically pretty if she didn't currently have a sneer on her face. She wasn't staring at him this time. No, her gaze was only for the Counselor.
“Nope. This is just part of business. We need you focused on getting the truth, not hiding in the shade fanning yourself in misery.” Tor held up his right hand, “Not that you would, but it's hot and humid there, all the time. If you can't sleep for days or whatever, that effects what you can do, no matter how tough you are mentally. This will help. Take it or not, it isn't a trick or bribe, just a tool to make work easier. However it certainly is meant to win everyone else's good will though.” Tor gave him a gentle and bemused look, trying to show disdain without being the rude one. Which was still rude, he realized, so he made himself stop and just nod a little instead.
Smythe put the amulet on coldly and triggered it, then fought not to show how much better he felt. The guard woman relaxed, but kept her eyes trained on the man the whole time. At least one of them did, always. They looked at Tor occasionally, but didn't focus like that.
So… had they been ordered to watch the Counselor? That made sense and let him feel a bit better. It would be nice to think that not everyone blamed him for everything at least. He kept having the odd idea that he was in trouble, even though he'd only tried to help people and do what they asked.
And put up with more crap than anyone should have too. Well, having Smythe along should make the Wards feel better in a lot of ways. After all, the guy had tried to kill him, and here Tor was, working with him, if not actually forgiving him yet. Did that make him look weak? Probably. But then, who was he fooling? He wasn't the biggest or the strongest, not the best fighter in the room even. Really, he wondered if he could even take Sorlee if it came to it. If she was well trained the case may be he couldn't. He really needed to do his running when he could. Well, maybe he'd have time when he wasn't working on this investigation mess. Smythe really didn't want his help, so what else was there to do? Right, make that hand for Trice.
Sara jostled his arm.
“Um, Tor? Your bag is glowing.” She pointed helpfully, since he'd obviously been thinking. Of course with him something glowing suddenly could actually mean anything from a sigil being turned on by accident to an explosion about to take place, so he smiled at her and hurried to fix it.
Tor opened it quickly and hit the sigil that said “Capital”, it was glowing blue, and floating about a half inch above the focus stone, exactly as planned.
“Hello?” He said loudly enough that everyone looked at him with interest. Most of them knew about the communications devices already. Sara gave him a strange look though, as if he were talking to himself. Again.
Like he talked to himself? He didn't even mutter in his sleep. Not that he could recall at least. The nerve of the girl. It took an act of will to keep himself from smiling.
Richard spoke, sounding like his voice came from the palm of Tor's right hand. Crisp and clear.
“Tor! I wanted to try this and see how it worked. Can you hear me?” The familiar voice of the King, with several people whispering excitedly in the back ground.
“Sure can. It looks like we’re about half an hour outside of Warden right now, so it seems like the range is going to work fine on this.”
The was a bit of rustling in the background.
“Hi Tor!”
A happy, but unfamiliar voice came across suddenly, softer than the King’s. It got a laugh from the room. Wait… Karina's friend with the cute face and the large breasts?
“Hello Ali.” Tor had to smile. The girl had a sweet innocence about her. It made his voice sound kind and gentle, thinking that.
Sara gave him and odd look but didn't speak. It was, Tor finally realized, reading her field almost as a matter of habit, Sara's jealous look. He'd seen it before, but never got what it was supposed to mean. Usually it had been aimed towards Trice though, so it could be faked up in an attempt to manipulate him. Only, he knew for a fact it wasn’t. Not this time.
The King sounded very happy when he continued.
“Excellent! With this I can confer with you all daily and even sit in on interviews or hold my own at need. We'll rush those other units out to their destinations directly.” A little more softly the King asked who had the duty.
The question was going to the room in the palace, but Tor knew the answer.
“Squire Gemma. She knows where everything needs to go, and how the devices work, so she can teach others.” For some reason this got a small stir from the room on the other end of the device.
“Of course. Well, she is a Squire, I'd normally prefer to send someone older, but… well in war we must rob children of their youth too soon at times. Do we have a transport we can spare?”
From the front Sorlee called out, loudly, since she was flying and couldn't turn around.
“Several at Wildlands Station, your highness sir, um Sire, ask for Ferra at the whorehouse, she's as good a driver as any and, likes kids. In a motherly way of course. Plus she's got a good direction sense, if you're flying all about the kingdom. Be good practice for her too, if we set up a whole fleet to go all around the land as planned.”
Rolph laughed loudly and offered to go too. After all, Ferra was kind of cute. It was a joke, clearly, so everyone else chuckled along.
Everyone stopped laughing when the King agreed.
Except Tor. It really was kind of funny.