Tor knew, intellectually at least, that the head weapons instructor wouldn't really kill him just for missing lessons for one day. After all, if he did that no one would work with him anymore, they'd all run away in fear. That didn't mean that Tor wouldn't wish for death by the end of whatever was coming. That, he knew from personal experience, was more than likely.
It had happened before. Oh, not him missing class, except for one time when he'd been out with a bug for three days, food poisoning, Tor never really got sick. Kolb had been fairly nice about the whole thing, just adding in some extra lessons when he got back, so that he could keep up with everyone else. But there had been a few little things, not learning something fast enough, or not having the needed strength to really take out one of the larger students from the combat section in practice on command.
Then there was normally a lot more training, painful to the extreme.
But this was different.
For the first time Tor had done something that was actually wrong. Missing lessons without permission wasn't really a big deal in his other classes. After all, kids did that, going off to get drunk or have sex instead of studying and learning like they should. Some of the rich kids hardly attended classes at all, sometimes not showing up for days on end. But the military and combat studies section was different, at least for the upper level students, which for some reason Tor had been included into. The instructors tended to treat absence as an attempt to leave the military without permission or something. In the army that could lead to imprisonment or even death.
Tor knew he could argue that this wasn't the military and that he'd even been put in the section by mistake. He simply wasn't a combat student. Tor would never be, no matter how hard he tried. Even Kolb clearly knew that, having him work with wooden weapons instead of magical ones for the last few years, even when everyone else got to move ahead. He made Tor run daily, telling him over and over again that in a real fight, against real enemies, it would probably be his only hope for survival. He just lacked the size and strength for anything else and really no amount of training or practice would give it to him. So run away.
But all of that wouldn't get him out of what was coming. Not unless he tried to run away right then, instead of approaching the practice field like he'd been ordered to. OK, requested to, but that was just to make him sweat more, being asked politely like that. It worked too. Kolb wasn't just a master of fighting unarmed or with weapons apparently. He could use words too. Well enough to make Dorgal Sorvee look like a chump.
The large instructor stood in the empty square, his shirt off in the cool breeze already, hitting at a pell, a wooden log set in the ground, that was larger around than Tor could reach with both arms by a good bit. It only stood about eight feet high, but still looked massive. The ground shook as powerful blows followed each other nearly too fast to be kept track of. The reverberation went through him, shaking bone each time.
Tor swallowed and looked around, trying to see the trap, or punishment that was planned for him. He really hoped it wasn't being beaten with that sword. That would actually kill him, most likely. Even a dull blade hitting him half that hard would do the trick.
The training square was large, about a hundred feet on each side, ringed in a low stone wall, too high for him to see over, but not for a lot of the combat giants. Maybe six foot? Inside, away from the main gate, to the left, the ground was paved with very flat, very hard black stone. The rest was dirt, packed hard from years of being stomped and trampled underfoot. A hill stood, higher than the wall on the back left corner, dipping down into a small pond, the thick mud of which was hard to stand on when someone was hitting you, or, as he knew from only occasional personal experience, just as hard to stand on if you actually connected with someone else. He'd sat in it every single time he'd had to work there, usually making the other students laugh.
The remaining section was just flat, dry dirt, his favorite place to work in the square. A lovely soft tan color that didn't show overly on the browns, as long as you didn't have to roll around in it for too long.
Tor plodded over slowly, head hanging a little. Dread filled him, but there was nothing for it. As long as the instructor didn't actually kill or maim him, no one would say much about any punishment given and while Tor could quit at any time, there wouldn't be a second chance like this in life. Finishing his schooling here could make him, but half trained? Who knew? He'd either open his own bakery somewhere or try for the sea and just pray something worked out.
Bald head glistening in the bright daylight, beads of perspiration dripping off of his back and shoulders, Kolb spun suddenly and pointed the dull metal practice blade at Tor's throat.
“Ah, good, you made it! I was worried you might be too busy…” The look he gave him didn't hold the expected derision, just a matter of fact expression that made Tor wince. It would have been easier to just be yelled at. This “reasonable” man in front of him couldn't be a good sign.
“Now, your advisor, Gear, told me why you didn't make it yesterday. In the future I expect to be notified in advance if you can't make it due to other work, understood? My time's too valuable to be standing around wondering where you are. In general everyone's time is too valuable to waste like that, even yours. Keep that in mind, eh?”
The blade swung back around to the pillar behind the man, making it shake, a tremor that could be felt through the thick leather soles of Tor's brown shoes.
“Don't worry, I'm not going to make you work the pells all day as a punishment, though the thought had occurred to me. First Instructor Kara suggested a several hours long beating, and she actually likes you, so you can imagine what the others wanted to do. I want you to watch something instead. Pay attention here, alright?”
Five more blows hit the post, the form perfect, driven by the thick and lean arm of the man in front of him. After the last one he turned.
“Each of those blows would hold a good chance of killing an un-shielded or unarmored man. Even with a dull weapon like this. If someone comes at you in a similar fashion, baring you wearing a full shield, you need to do what in order to survive?”
“Run away.” It came out sounding almost bored, he knew, which was about the worst thing that could happen. Yes, Tor had to say it a half dozen times a day, but angering the man right now was not a good survival strategy. His stomach tightened and he swallowed, which must have showed on his face. The blade swung at him without warning, causing him to back pedal as fast as he could, ready to run in truth if the attack continued. That had happened before, with five students, led, now that he thought about it, by Petra, the tall girl that kept waving to him the day before, chasing him for nearly an hour along the road to the nearest town. Kolb stopped after a single swing this time and gave him a serious look.
“Exactly. Not trying to bore you here, but do pay attention. I don't want to have to repeat myself later. Fail in this lesson and you'll probably die later. Now look here…”
The sword was put on a low table and a piece of metal no longer than a regular fighting knife, but flat and not sharp at all, was held in the large hand instead. The big thumb was placed over a triggering sigil and held. Looking at Tor with a soft smile, the giant man casually, without perceptible effort, swung the metal at the pell, making an angled sweep that, if it had been a human would have bisected the neck and shoulder.
For a second nothing happened at all.
Then with a crash nearly a hundred, maybe two hundred, pounds of wood slid off the pell and hit the ground, making Tor jump back out of the way. The wood was smooth, shiny even, on the top of the log, now nearly three foot shorter and angled at the top.
“A simple cutter, about a four foot sweep on it. You've made cutters before, right? Same basic idea here, only bigger than generally needed for a tool, except in stone working or cutting logs for timber. Now here's the task I have for you. On top of your regular studies and practice, you have two weeks to make a shield that will protect you from both of these weapons. It must be able to withstand twenty minutes of sword, and the same amount of time from this cutter. Failure means death, most likely at least, so I suggest you take the project seriously.”
A large hand was held out as if to forestall speech.
“Yes, we already have shields, so you know that the basic idea can work. But, you aren't allowed to just make a copy of one. I expect novel work, since you've shown yourself capable of that now… Understood?”
Tor did.
The man really did mean to kill him. He'd never even set eyes on a working shield before, and now he had to make one, from scratch, inside two weeks? That kind of work could take years to get right. He was so dead. He may as well run off, or at least send a letter to his parents explaining why he died.
Kolb just laughed as he stood shaking.
“You look cold. Go ahead and run to Lenders and back to warm up, then we'll work stones and unarmed for a while. Don't worry, you have some time to work on your new shield.” The voice held a warm and jovial quality that Tor didn't really associate with the man at all. It wasn't something he could trust then. New things generally weren't, as had been recently pointed out, they needed to be tested first.
Tor ran, and for the second time since he'd come to the school, really considered the idea of just going down the dirt road to the nearest town. It took about an hour to run the distance and back and no one would be following him. After all, this was just part of his daily routine.
The first time he'd considered it had been after he'd foolishly asked a girl if she'd like to attend one of the student parties with him. Everyone else was getting dates, but the girl, one that he hadn't thought totally outside of his social standing and class, had shut him down cold. And loudly. In front of everyone in the dining hall. That had been during the spring of his first year.
The only reason that he hadn't run off then and just gone back home was because of Rolph, who'd told him that things like that happened sometimes. Some girls couldn't see a good thing when it was presented to them. Their loss. That was easy for Rolph to say, rich, good looking and gregarious to boot. Tor hadn't done anything for weeks after that, even avoiding meals so that he wouldn't have to see the girl again. Two weeks later the girl disappeared, pulled back home by her parents for some reason. At least then he'd been able to go to meals in peace. Except for the people talking about him, pointing and staring when he came in the first few times.
After that he'd kind of withdrawn from everyone except his roommate and the instructors. He was there to work and learn. No matter how pretty a girl was, being humiliated like that was too much for him to handle, so he didn't give them a chance to make fun of him like that anymore.
Now this…
Well, he considered, as his feet tapped the ground lightly, a steady jog being good enough for the first half of the trip he felt, could he make a shield like that? What kind of magic would it take? Did he know how to make anything that would help?
His mind turned in on itself as he moved, his focus increasing until he didn't notice the strain of running or that he'd sped up a little. What, he asked himself, was the real problem to be addressed?
A cutter was, he knew from experience, a powerful tool. Just look what it had done to that log. But the basic idea was simple enough. The field just organized a region of space on the tiniest level of being. It told all the energy on each side of a sliver thin line to move in opposite directions. If the gap became large enough, meaning a strong field, it separated matter into two pieces. It didn't cut so much as get the object to pull itself apart, name aside. It was simple and elegant, as well as powerful. Not even requiring outside energy to be made to work.
If he could disrupt that field, scramble it or put in conflicting instructions, that should stop any kind of cutter or even explosive magic from working on him directly. Explosives were similar, he thought. He didn't know it for a fact, but it made some sense that if everything tried to move away from a central point it would blow up. As long as the field had enough force behind it.
That left physical blocking, which baffled the hell out of him for a minute. Luckily for him it did, since he found himself halfway into Lenders and still going, have missed his turn around about half a mile back. Oops. He turned and started going the other direction, making a point to take it a little faster, since Kolb would think he just slacked off if he didn't get back at the expected time.
So, physical blocking…
Nothing came to him, so he set the idea on the back burner of his mind and started working on the food dryer again. It would come to him or it wouldn't, and worrying over something that didn't want to come wouldn't help at all. It would just waste time he could be using for something else.
When he got back a few other trainees, most in brown like him, but two in black, meaning special school kids or senior students that could afford specialty exercise clothes, were going through their paces in the yard. This included, to his surprise, the near black haired girl he'd met the day before. At least it looked that way now, slightly damp with sweat. Trice? That was a funny name, but no weirder than what some of his sisters had. Even Torrence wasn't exactly a winner as far as names went. Easy to remember at least. Trice. Treez. It made him smile to think about. Who didn't like trees?
The girl didn't wait for him to get all the way in the gate before pouncing on him, figuratively at least. She jogged over, followed by the lighter colored girl, Sara.
Trice spoke first.
“I heard that the testing is going well on your new dryer! When can we start getting them? Sara already lined up sales for twenty of them on metal at eleven gold apiece. Of course she'll want a percentage since she did the work getting the sales. Ten percent is standard, don't let her tell you otherwise.” This came out in an excited rush, the other girl blushing when she heard what her friend told him.
“Um, I know that we didn't have a deal in place, but I thought that if I could show how useful I could be… If you know, you can make them?” The blond spoke softly, without making direct eye contact for some reason. They both had black on again, which confirmed that they weren't regular students here at least. If they'd been around Tor hadn't noticed them, but then they were girls. He tried to ignore those kinds of people, so that he wouldn't be tempted into embarrassment and humiliation.
Kolb looked over and saw who Tor was talking to, a smile coming over his face. He waved them all over. “Great! I knew you'd come around eventually to work with Tor here, too tempting a target to ignore. Today I'm planning on unarmed for him. Tor… Normally you'd know what to do if either of these young ladies attacked you right?” His smile went mischievous, a look that Tor hadn't seen on his face before.
“Run away?” He said, the standard answer. Plus, given that they were probably both able to kill him in less time than he could imagine, it made sense to him. Both of the girls looked at him as if scandalized for some reason. Or shocked. Possibly because he wasn't supposed to think that they could take him out almost instantly if he didn't scamper off? Or, just possibly, they just didn't think that he stood a chance of outrunning them? That was possible, he knew. For all that he ran nearly every day, a lot of people were still faster than he was. It was very possible that they'd trained for speed, or even that and endurance, they both had a long lankiness to their curves that spoke of a decent level of fitness.
“Exactly. Now, instead of playing merry chase, I want you to try and stand your ground for as long as you can with these two. One at a time please. He's fragile, and the dean would hate to lose him just as he's finally getting his act together…” Everyone laughed at that, so Tor did too, a polite chuckle. The dean didn't even know who he was as far as that went, so that part at least was slightly funny. They'd never met at least.
Kolb gave a bow to Trice and stepped back. Without warning a foot shot out at Tor's groin. He jumped back avoiding it, if just barely and nearly ran away out of reflex. Instead he held his ground as ordered and blocked the three blows that followed and then missed the next two, both blows to the stomach which almost took him to his knees. A kick came towards his head, a flashy thing that was really too high, a wheel kick he thought. Kolb would have beaten him senseless if he tried something that took that long to land. Was it feint, meant to throw him off or set up the next move? He blocked it with both forearms and pushed hard, sending the girl, not much larger than he was in weight, even if she was taller by nearly a foot, stumbling back.
She was better that he was on her feet, that was obvious, so he decided on a tackle, taking her all the way down to the ground with a soft “woof”. Her legs wrapped around him, pushing his hips downward, controlling him almost perfectly. For some reason she didn't struggle to get away, holding him close to her instead. Tor became highly aware that he was covered in sweat from his run, still sticky and damp.
The girl didn't seem to notice that at all, her eyes were locked on his. Something shifting in her right hand as he tried to get his body far enough away from her to throw some punches. He wouldn't actually hit her, because it was just practice, but if he could indicate the punches well enough, Kolb would let it count. Just as he managed to almost power out of her grasp, he felt a slight prick on his neck and froze.
Trice smiled up at him, her eyes were a lovely shade of cornflower blue he noticed before looking down to see a wickedly sharp looking dagger at his throat. Silver, shiny and deadly looking. He almost complained, since the instructions had been for unarmed combat. Then he realized that special school students probably didn't fight by rules at all, so that instruction had only applied to him.
Damn.
He really should have just run away. Tor couldn't move faster than she could stab him at this distance and they hadn't come up with any sign that he'd surrendered either. Yikes. That was bad. Well, maybe he'd get out of the shield thing in two weeks anyway? Hard to kill someone already dead.
That got him thinking, distracting him from the knife at his throat for a few moments. What could he do to drive a knife like that back? A pressure field could work, but that took personal energy and too much time to create. If he had six hours he could move the knife back. Possibly. In twenty seconds? Not a chance.
What if he used a low energy field though? Like… how a cutter worked, but in only one direction? It wouldn't drive the knife away exactly, but he could use her own force against her, so that the harder she pushed, the harder it would be to move forward. The blade itself would try to push her hand back.
Making a living field like that took focus, which he could do, normally at least. Right now things were a little distracting, what with the knife and the very pretty girl in close contact with him. Plus, he had to make it happen all around his body at once, because the second the girl realized what was happening, if he could get it to work at all, she'd just change the location of the knife. Could he do it? Probably not, he realized. It was an almost impossible task.
He could try at least.
Tor forced his mind as deep as he could, and started building the field, just off of his skin. The idea creeping as close to his flesh as his mind could get it on such short notice. He couldn't let it go, even for an instant or the information would fade and he'd be stabbed. It took hours of focus to build a strong field that would linger, and even longer to make one that would last for days or weeks. He felt the blade closing, a sharp pressure that drew blood, even through the trance state he'd moved in to. Suddenly the pressure stopped and the girl's eyes went wide.
“Holy!” She yelled, suddenly squirming to get away from him. She stabbed the blade into the side of his face three or four times, but it didn't connect, just stopping dead a fraction of an inch above him. He didn't let go of the field, keeping it as solid as he could as the girl tried to fight her way free of his grasp.
The other girl watched, interested in what he was doing it seemed. After a second she nodded.
“Shield. Might as well pull back Trice.” Sara spoke softly, amused. “I don't see the amulet, so removing it could be a problem. Probably under the clothing or maybe in a pocket? Activated already, so… well, it had to be something, didn't it?”
The tone sounded academic as if they were working on a simple math problem in class or something similar. Tor held the field solidly, letting it grow in power even as they both stood. With a smile the girl put the blade away and pulled something else out of her shirt, reaching inside the tunic, her hand whipping out towards him suddenly. White powder filled his vision, but didn't touch him. Blinding powder or something? He couldn't tell, since it didn't connect with him at all. It did make it nearly impossible to see, his vision being covered with white as he stood. He couldn't really move very fast, not and keep the field growing at least, trying to do too many things at once always degraded each of the tasks attempted. The dangerous girl danced away, getting about ten feet back before he could see her at all again.
“Yep, shield alright. Let's see if it can stop energy weapons.” Trice grinned and pulled a small silver piece, no larger than one of her fingers. Instead of slicing at him with it, she pointed it at his mid-section. A blast of some kind?
He didn't know how those things worked, but hoped that a scrambling field would take care of it. Not that he'd ever built one of those before. He didn't have time for a new field, so it would have to be built into the current one, without losing what protection he already had. How? That, he knew, was the question. He tried to wing it, panicking more than a bit, making the field around him move suddenly, ordering everything around him to shift away to the right as fast as it could go. Dust started to kick up at his feet.
“Trice…” Sara spoke softly, a bit of awe in her voice. “Wait! Aura! Combat aura!”
The blast nearly knocked him from his feet, even through the shifting space in front of him. He almost lost the field totally then, but managed to hold on somehow, keeping his focus solid.
“Trice, no!” Sara yelled, which got the girl to stop from hitting him with the next blast. A good thing too, because Tor realized he'd been holding his breath the whole time, no air being able to get in. He tried to breath, but nothing happened. He nearly panicked for a second, then let the field go. It lingered for about twenty seconds, which wasn't bad considering how little time he'd had to build it and that he was trying to hold it without a physical location except himself. That was about the hardest thing to do, and having made up the field while he'd been doing it was probably nearly impossible.
Yay him.
Trice let him take two deep breaths before moving back in and kicking at his groin, which landed solidly enough to take him down. She looked at him strangely and backed up, as if expecting some kind of trick.
“The shield? Did it fail already?” She asked, concerned.
Kolb chuckled and walked over from where he'd been watching, some fifteen feet away.
“Oh, he doesn't have one. In fact, I don't think he's ever even used one before. That, I believe, was his first attempt at his latest project. I just assigned it to him an hour and a half ago, so I guess we can't expect any better yet. If that had been a military grade cutter instead of a student's practice lance you'd be dead right now Tor. Keep that in mind. You have two weeks to improve.”
Then, after about a whole minute to rest up from the blow to the groin, trying not to clutch himself and whimper the whole time, he had to face off with Sara. The girl didn't pull any kind of weapon, opting to kick his behind literally, or near enough, with a series of low kicks and a few elbows to the face. He ended up on his back after about thirty seconds, the girl mimicking a few kicks to his neck as he struggled to get up.
It was humiliating, but better than if she'd just gone ahead and delivered the kicks for real. After a few more seconds the weapons instructor decided that Tor was “dead” and had him work against Trice again. For the next two hours they took turns beating him. He didn't win at all, the best he managed was to get a few blows in every now and then.
“Alright Tor. Don't miss any more classes and have that shield ready on time. You can go for today.”
The girls smiled at him as he picked himself up. With a glance he realized how goofy he must seem to them, both had not only handed him a beating, but they'd done it without hardly being affected by him at all. He was covered in dust and mud from where the sweat had mixed with dirt. Well, he wasn't trying to impress these girls. They were way too scary for that. Who pulls a real knife in unarmed combat practice anyway? The answer that came to him was uncomfortable.
Who did that? A very deadly person. That's who.
Trice waved at him smiling happily, and reminded him of the deal that he had with Sara for those dryers. He waved back, trying not to seem like a poor loser. He hadn't made any deal at all with the girl though, had he? Then again, if it got past the instructors, it would be simple enough to make copies. He could do about ten in an hour or two. Most people couldn't, he knew. It was a complex magical set… but once made, it could be treated as a single thing instead of the dozen different parts he'd had to work with originally, and he'd built it as a template, so anyone with the skill could make copies from it, ideally. If she wanted to sell them and helped him get the metal and some acid to burn the sigils into place, he could do the work for her. If he lived through Kolb's little test at least.
That night he worked out what the rapid food drying setup would take. It wasn't nearly as hard as he thought it would be. He double, then triple checked the work. Tor could probably get it done on his next off day, if he skipped out on sleeping.
Then, out of a strange desire to not die, he started working on the shield. His experience earlier had been instructive about things he never would have even considered before. Like breathing. That dust had probably been designed to make it hard to breathe as well as blind him. Could he form some kind of breathing tube or filter to keep something like that out? Yes… It was particulate in nature, so he could just make sure that nothing less fluid than air could come through, no matter how small. Easy enough really.
As he sat at his desk he lost track of time again, working on a dozen different things at once, finding a way around problems as well as he could, when he could, and coming back over and over again to the things that just didn't have answers. How could he absorb the force of a sword blow? Or a cutter for that matter? Could he shunt the physical force into the ground? It should be possible to pass force along like that, but he couldn't think of any kind of magic that already did it. He'd have to figure it out on his own. That would take testing. Whee. Maybe he could get Rolph to help him?
When Rolph shook his shoulder he startled hard.
“What?” He yelled, jumping half out of his hard wooden chair, getting a laugh from the other boy.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, it's just half an hour after your normal bed time and you were just sitting there, not moving. Thought you might have fallen into a trance like you do…”
Which Tor had, he nodded and started to straighten the papers and writing implements on the desk in front of him.
After that the giant boy started getting ready for bed, so Tor followed suit. Losing too much sleep wouldn't help, he'd need to be as sharp as possible from now until after he had the shield made. Besides, now that Tor thought about it, he was exhausted already. He'd been up for a long time, which probably explained it. His head hurt a little and he felt fuzzy mentally, so he probably needed to sleep more than it seemed.
Even though Rolph liked to complain about the beds every now and again, even going so far as to have a new mattress brought in, Tor didn't mind what the school provided. It was better than what he'd had at home and no one jabbed him with a bony elbow in the side while he rested. He fell asleep quickly, more than a little exhausted by the events of the day.
The next day was just as hard, if in a different way. After his morning classes a younger student found him in the dining room and told him that advisor Gear wanted to see him in his office after he'd eaten. The girl, who looked about fourteen, flipped her light blond hair at him after delivering the message, dismissing him without another thought. Fair enough. He didn't plan on thinking about her either. He had real things to worry about.
Like not dying.
When he got to Frank's office a strange man sat in front of the desk, his advisor behind it smiling up at him when he walked in.
“And here he is now. Torrence Baker, this is Merchant Donald Sorvee. His family runs a very large sales concern in Western Noram and he's asked to speak to you in regards to this novel device you've created.”
The man dressed all in a deep purple velvet that was so dark it could have passed for black in most light. Tor liked the color a lot. On his head sat a ridiculous, and probably expensive, floppy hat in bright red, with a single huge black feather sticking out of it. The black hair underneath it looked to be greasy at first, but then he realized it was just some kind of hair oil or slick, rather than a medical condition. There was something about the man that Tor just didn't like, even if he couldn't place his finger on it. Like he was evil… or dangerous.
The man spoke smoothly and quickly, as if trying to dazzle Tor with words. It might have
have worked if he didn't start out by offering to buy as many of the dryers as Tor could make for two golds each. He smiled at the man who sat next to him and shook his head.
“I'm sorry, but I already made arrangements with someone to handle sales, you'll have to go through her.” Sara seemed better equipped to handle a slick person like this than he was. Not a difficult task, since he'd only spoken to a half dozen merchants in his life and all those had been in their shops, mainly telling him that what they carried was too expensive for him. If nothing else she could probably knife the man and dump the body. Trice would help no doubt. “Her name's Sara, she's one of the special school students? I'm sure you could find her there now.”
Tor didn't shrug, but wanted to. For all he knew Sara was sitting in the library or off in town getting drunk or there were a half dozen girls by that name in the special section. It was pretty common after all. But for some reason he really wanted to get away from the creepy fellow in front of him. It wasn't that the man had done anything wrong, more that it just felt like he might. Like he really wanted to. It took a while to convince the man that his agent, a school girl, was really the person he needed to talk to. Tor didn't have the girl's last name, but hoped that wouldn't be too big a problem for the man. He really didn't want to meet up with him again.
When the guy left, Frank looked at him with a smile, it wasn't sour, not exactly, but it didn't seem too pleased either. “Are you sure that's wise? A deal like this doesn't come around every day…”
It wasn't, he assured his advisor, that he didn't want gold, but that the man had been offering a tiny fraction of the current sales price that had done it. Instructor Gear whistled when he heard the going rate. Then he shrugged and told Tor that if he had any other ideas or new builds, the staff would be there to test them at need. The implication was that, in the future, such testing should be remunerated if needed at all. It seemed fair to him, so he nodded seriously, taking the drying field template back before leaving.
He'd have to see if he could get any of the metal he'd need for the copies as soon as possible. How he was supposed to get the funds for it he didn't know. Maybe sell one of his younger siblings? But by tradition that would only give him livestock of course, which wouldn't do him a lot of good. Plus his mother would actually get the animals, not him.
Not really helpful at all.
That afternoon Kolb decided that the previous day's poor performance meant that he'd be best served by practicing his running it seemed, even if the man didn't say it out loud, so Tor ran back and forth to Lenders three times and then had to hack at a pell for half an hour when he got back. His right arm felt like it was about to fall off by the time he got back to his room, where he immediately started working on the shield project, exhausted or not.
There just wasn't time not to.
No wonder these things were so expensive… Just to get it to do half of what would be needed took fifteen separate linked fields that all had to be grown together. Way harder than his simple little clothes drying device.
On the good side, he had, by making a small but decently powerful cutter to use for testing, figured out how to set up a background pattern that would scramble any incoming field of information that used direction. Unfortunately it meant that he couldn't just mix the physical shielding portion with it. Instead he layered that one just underneath the disruption field. Both had to allow air in, which meant figuring out how to filter particles out of the air. It was harder than it sounded, and it didn't sound easy. Finally he worked out a way of keeping things as fine as smoke out, mainly at least, that still let air through. All of the fields had to exist inside this filter, including the one to block directional fields. Of course the filter was a directional field…
Another problem.
Eventually, just before dinner time, a soft knock came at the door. It took him a second to realize what the sound was and he blinked for a moment, baffled by it. Taking a deep breath he asked whoever was there to hold for a moment, trying to bring himself back to reality long enough to deal with whatever the problem might be. No one would be knocking on his door without Rolph there if it wasn't bad news.
At the door stood Sara and her friend Trice, both dressed in low cut and tight fitting black dresses that showed a lot of smooth bare shoulder considering how chilly it was outside still. Before he could speak Trice pushed her way in.
“Come to check in on you and make sure Sorvee didn't come back put the squeeze on. That guy's a real piece of work, but Sara told him that Debri house already held the contract for re-sale, which should keep him away for a bit, at least on the clothes drying device. If he's smart he'll probably come back just on general purposes to build the contact.”
For all that Sara looked far less ready to just push her way into his room, she followed her friend and shut the door behind her. It was chilly out, and a wave of cool air followed them.
“That's alright, isn't it? That I told him that? I mean, he said that you told him I was your sales agent, so I bent the truth a little. If nothing else you can get a better deal by going with almost anyone other than his group. They'll rob you blind, and then convince you to thank them for doing it. Not that most merchants won't take advantage of you, but few are as bad as Sorvee.” The blond blushed prettily about something, and looked down.
“Hey, um… what kind of percentage do you think's fair? This is kind of a big deal, but I'm not really in the business you know? I have some contacts with Debri of course… my mom and brother and all, but that's not really the same as knowing what I'm doing yet…”
Torrence shrugged and wondered if they'd dressed up just to see him or if they had a party to go to? Probably not anything to do with him, he decided. They both already knew they didn't have to impress him. Once you beat a guy up half a dozen times that ship's probably well and truly sailed, right? Smiling he pointed at the papers to the left of the ones he worked on.
“Well, if you can get up to speed on this one, I should have a food dryer ready to go by next week. Then I really have to work on the shield project full time after that. If I don't want to die at least.” For some reason that he didn't get, both girls laughed. When he asked why Sara blushed again, but Trice touched his arm gently and smiled.
“We just have every confidence that you'll live, if you put your mind to it. We heard Kolb talking to the head of our department, he thinks you can do it, no problem, or he wouldn't have set you the task. They very rarely murder the students here you know. It cuts down on enrollment too much.”
For some reason, the idea didn't feel right to him. Then again, the first time he'd tried to block a punch, the bald giant had made sure that Tor knew he'd hit him in the head if he missed. It had worked out pretty well, fear making Tor a lot faster than he'd have been otherwise. Maybe it was like that? Only this time if he screwed up he'd be dead? Let him know the threat was real to get his attention? If that was the plan, it worked. Tor felt focused on it indeed.
Changing the subject, he looked at the blond, realizing that while she was taller than he was, she was shorter than Trice by a few inches, and told her ten percent. He didn't even have to explain what he meant, she just nodded.
“That's fair. More than fair really. I'll… let you out of the deal if you need to later, alright? I don't want to hurt your business prospects. Still, get with me when you have anything ready, oh!” She scrambled at her waist and seemed to remember that the somewhat skimpy outfit she wore didn't have any pockets.
“Um, no calling cards. Well, if you need me, ask Rolph or Tovey to help you find me or Trice, if you need one of us, alright? They both know where to find us.”
Trice got up and walked out then, without another word. Sara followed with a wave over her shoulder that seemed genial enough. Both of them looked good, dressed as they were. Fit. The outfits didn't leave a lot to the imagination though. That, of course, wasn't his concern at the moment. Had Sara really just suggested that if he needed to find her he should go and get a sitting Count to act as his guide?
Sure, he'd just show up on the man's doorstep and haughtily demand to be escorted. Sara would be sure to come to the funeral right? So it might even work, if not exactly in the desired fashion. Of course he had no idea where to find the man anyway, so he was pretty safe from that fate.
Did the girls think he and the Count were friends? It kind of sounded like it. How odd. Just looking at him Sara had to realize he was probably one of the most common people on campus.
He went back to the shield build shaking his head a little in amused disbelief.
When Rolph came in later that evening, smelling a little of wine, but not drunk, Tor turned around at his desk to talk to him. That and stretch his slightly stiff back at the same time. The larger boy lay out on his bed and kicked his shoes off.
“You know Tor… A lot of people at the pub were talking about you and your new little invention tonight. I knew that people would want it, but I didn't get how badly they would. Do you think I could jump the line and buy up the first batch of ten or so? Mom would love these I think. Maybe pass them out to a few of her friends, which can't hurt future sales, she's kind of connected, even if her friends are a bunch of harpies. They're rich harpies though and really want to keep up with the popular trends…” Rolph sounded like he was trying to wheedle him into it, which was ridiculous on its face. Of course he could have the first batch.
He could have the first hundred, even if it meant Tor didn't sleep for a month to get it done. They were friends.
“Really, the only major problem I have here are time to do the work and materials to put it on. I'm thinking metal, but right now I can't afford anything more than wood plank and school paint.” Honestly he couldn't afford that. He'd probably have to skip buying soap and toothpaste the next time if he did it and the money didn't come in fast enough.
His friend shrugged and went to the large trunk at the end of his bed, pulling out a smaller chest, about the size of both Rolph's hands and opened it, showing that it was filled with gold and silver coins. Rolph counted out fifty-five gold and put them in a small blue velvet bag, which he handed over to Tor.
“Half up front. That's standard for large purchases like this anyway, in case the idea's new to you. It is eleven G. apiece right? I can go higher if you need…”
Tor looked at the bag on his desk and shook his head. “I… can't take your money. You're my friend and…” And there were no debts owed between friends, he was about to add.
A large hand suddenly clapped him on the back, a little harder than normal. “Nonsense. You need initial, capital and I'm doing nothing more than assuring my place in line. Think nothing of it and, you know, within reason, hurry it up. My mom's birthday is in a week. On Friday.”
Tor thought about the date.
“Ooh, like the Queen? Isn't her birthday celebration this next week? We don't get that off this time, do we? I could use the work time.”
Rolph chuckled and nodded.
“Yeah, just like the Queen, same day and everything, so you know, people will notice it if I don't have something there in time.”
Wincing, Tor knew that he had to start working harder. If he could get the materials the next day, maybe he could have the first batch ready by the day after. It would mean at least one sleepless night. Nodding he decided to do it. Rolph Merchant's mother would not be left with soggy clothing if he could help it. It may not be a big deal to anyone else in the world, but he had some small professional pride after all, even if he wasn't really one at all yet. It was a good thing to practice, right?
The materials were surprisingly easy to come up with once he had money for it. He bought up a hundred copper squares about the size of his palm and about as thick as heavy paper and enough acid to etch them with a pale green design that he drew up the night before. These didn't need any more than an indicator as a sigil, not like a template did. That was all about keeping him from forgetting something or losing his place while working and wasn't magic at all, no more than words on a page were, though a lot of people couldn't tell the difference.
Even the indicator sigils were really just about letting people have something to focus on to activate a field and keeping one device separate from others that might look similar otherwise. Some people drew the designs of the different fields sometimes, or whatever the indicators were, trying to make magic happen, which rarely worked at all. It took focus, will, and an idea of how the world worked to get any real effects. Of course he'd kind of gotten that to work a few times, which was what led him towards building in the first place. Trying hard enough had made a weak field that actually worked. Just a copy, but that was still pretty good for a kid from the woods like him.
Tor drew up stencils on paper and cut them all out with the small cutter he'd made to test part of his shield. It let him do all of them at once easily, which even a razor wouldn't have done. Then, after laying them all out in the courtyard on one of the wooden work tables, he painted the acid on and waited.
A mere four hours later he could finally rinse them all off. It was weak acid after all. Students weren't normally allowed to buy anything too dangerous, which made perfect sense. Most of the students were morons. Tor didn't exclude himself from that categorization either. He had his moments of less than brilliance after all. Times that he just didn't think clearly enough, or made a snap decision when he should take time to reflect. So yeah, weak acid, and no explosive weapons sold in the student store.
The design, a stylized D with wiggly line after it — D for dry — turned out well on all but four out of the hundred. He'd make those anyway, and just give them to other students or something. Some of the other scholarship kids might want them, right? Or maybe the boy with the wash from the other day, since Tor hadn't shown him how to properly wring out clothing yet? For that matter he could just set one up at the wash area, so anyone could use it.
That made sense.
Then he took half of them back to his room for safekeeping and took the rest with him to one of the empty work chambers. The floor in the room was softer than his bed, which he knew firsthand helped a lot, especially if he wasn't going to be moving for several hours.
Sitting on the deep red cushion, weight sinking in slowly for a few seconds, Tor set up the work space. The template went into the guide frame in front of him, of course, just like he'd done for class work. He had to adjust it to take the slightly oversized wood, but it worked after a few moments of tinkering. Then he counted out ten of the metal tiles and started to reach for the focus he'd need to make the transfer.
The first set wasn't that hard, and the next two were only a little boring to do, not difficult in any way. After that things got rough. Tor felt tired already, and it wasn't even midnight yet. The fourth batch pulled at his mind. Really it was a feeling like waking up in the early morning and knowing that you had to use the restroom badly, but also feeling like you didn't want to bother moving. Normally when that happened he just waited, discomfort or no.
Right now he couldn't do that. He had to keep his mind sharp and focus tight or else the copies wouldn't take, then all this work would be wasted, which would suck. The last batch ate at his mind, almost making him ache with boredom, but he kept at it until finished.
Finally. It was good practice at least.
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stretch and move. Tor hadn't gone stiff yet, but everything inside told him that he should run away from this evil place before some meany came and made him do more of that boring work. He laughed a little as he walked out, his legs protesting just a tiny bit. His left ankle must have had some of the blood cut off to it, because his left foot was getting a pins and needles feeling. No numbness. It was interesting… Maybe just didn't notice that he'd gone numb because of the pain difference that came in trance? He knew that he didn't feel pain as much in a deep working state and some people could block out even severe pain that way if they started to meditate before the injury happened. It could be useful if he was ever being tortured. Hopefully he'd never have to find out if it really worked or not.
As he walked back towards his room, the feeling got a little stronger. Then as he moved between the advisors' offices and the main class build, a wave of tingling hit him so hard it nearly took him off his feet. It didn't hurt so much as feel like he'd hit the back of his elbow too hard, his funny bone, only all over his body. His hands and feet went limp, weak. He could move them, but they suddenly felt like they lacked any kind of power at all.
He stopped walking, wondering what heck this was. Had he made himself sick? Or… he couldn't think of anything that fit. Could he have transferred the field incorrectly or had one of the fields attached itself to him directly? That would be, well, not impossible, but highly unlikely. He'd been careful, even when he got bored. Besides this kind of field shouldn't make him feel like this. Maybe a medical device of some kind could, but his clothes dryer? Not likely.
Torrence started walking again, as hard as it was, and noticed the two figures fighting as he got a little farther into the central commons area. He froze, not really understanding what they did at first.
Feet moved on the black and gray paving stones, a soft shuffle that spoke of people that knew how to fight and came prepared in shoes designed for the purpose. One of the figures was huge, the night was too dark to make out who it was really, only a black silhouette of the man, clearly a male, could be seen, back lit by the much lighter sky above. The person fighting with him was smaller. Faster. Still a lot bigger than Tor.
No one yelled or screamed, but the smaller figure held something that glinted in the early morning light. Not a knife, Tor didn't think so at least. It was too matte colored and kept being held wrong, pointed at the large figure, sending him staggering back just a tiny bit. The closer Tor moved towards them, the more desperate the movements of the smaller person seemed. They staggered back and forth, barely able to keep to their feet, even though they didn't let the big one close enough to hit them yet.
Unless they'd taken a few blows already. It didn't take a lot to leave you feeling loopy and seeing stars. He felt that way himself in fact, and he wasn't even within thirty feet of them yet. Tor felt tempted to run the other way. After all, that big guy was… huge. Bigger than Rolph, which was saying something. The smaller one cried out just as he started to turn away. It was a high pitched voice. A woman's voice.
Worse, it was a woman's voice he'd heard recently.
Trice.
Damn.
That meant that he had to go and probably get killed trying to help her, didn't it? Something like that at least. If nothing else she was Rolph's friend and the buddy of his new business partner, which in a sideways fashion meant he was her friend too, and responsible for her. All he could think as he staggered towards them was that she better have a good reason for being out fighting this late. Especially if she wanted to pick fights with giants.
Who did that anyway? If you were going to pick a fight it only made sense to go after someone smaller than you were, right? That's why Tor held to a fast policy of only getting in fights with people under ten years old himself, if he could help it. If she was just out having too much to drink and getting in trouble he'd…
Exactly what he'd do didn't come to him as the large figure threw a single punch that took the girl to the ground, her weapon not being effective anymore for some reason. Sparks jumped in front of Tor's eyes, seeming to fly all around the man in front of him as he closed on the downed woman.
Taking a deep breath Tor ran towards the giant in front of him and swung the cloth sack he had in his hand. The copper inside gave it enough weight to make a decent weapon, at least until the cloth gave way, Tor figured. The edges of the metal were a little bit sharp and might cut through with repeated use. The first hit landed on the big man's shoulder. He kept moving towards the still form on the ground, so Tor hit him again. And then again.
After five or six hits, all solid blows, the huge form slowly turned towards him. The first thing Tor noticed was that the feeling of not being in control of his body got a lot stronger when the man focused on him directly.
The second thing was that it was Count Thomson that stood before him.
A half second later the Count stopped just standing and looking at him, and attacked.