“Run away!” Tor chanted to himself, his feet sluggish, almost as if stuck to the ground beneath him for some reason. “Run away!”
Not bothering to turn all the way, he just started stumbling off at about a sixty-degree angle like he'd been taught to do if someone much bigger and faster decided to attack. Or smaller and faster. Or if they were something that could easily take him in a fight, like a small dog or a kitten.
Run away.
He could hear Kolb the weapons instructor chanting with him in his head. Of course Tor wasn't even halfway fast enough. The Count swiped a single long arm at him, connecting with his left shoulder, taking him all the way off his feet so easily that for a second Tor thought he'd fainted. It was the stupid glowing dots in the air that did it. He thought they were in the air at first, but… they were probably in his head weren't they? One of the strange powers that royals had then? It made sense, almost all of them had combat related abilities of some kind. Why was the Count attacking Trice though? Had she insulted him, or turned him down for sex or something?
That was probably it.
If the woman had publicly humiliated him or mocked him, that might send a guy over the edge like that. Then again, why would she? The guy was good looking, strong, rich and at what — twenty odd years old — had already assumed the head of one of the largest districts in the Noram kingdom. Maybe the girl had just bumped into him or something. Spilled his drink?
That didn't really matter right at the moment. No, what mattered, Tor decided, was rolling. A foot came towards his head as he tried to make himself move. Most of the time he was more than a little clumsy in a fight, but at this moment, struggling to stay alive, he felt like a fish that someone had pulled from the water, flopping and spastic, muscles not really acting like they should at all.
Making it to his feet, he ran as fast as he could, so not very, the bag still clutched in his right hand for some reason. Torrence didn't want to drop it, but ten hours of work wasn't worth his life. A thousand hours of work wasn't. It would take at least a thousand and seven, he decided as he flopped away. His fingers wouldn't release however, so it was a moot point.
He ran, feeling drunk and wobbly. Tor heard a solid pounding coming at him from behind as he struggled to get away, not bothering to look over his shoulder. The massive man would either catch him or not. Looking back would just invite falls or running into walls. No, if he was going to do that, run into a wall, he'd do it with his eyes open, thank you very kindly.
The foot falls close with him as he sprinted. At first. After a minute it sounded like they were farther away. Then they stopped altogether. Good. He stopped, only to feel the sparks start up again a few moments later. He couldn't hear anything, but the Count had to be getting closer, right? Looking back he finally got it. The man wasn't running anymore. That was all.
He'd risen about five feet in the air and flew after Tor, arms at his sides loosely, a halo of sparks around him.
Running again he didn't look back and didn't stop. It was just time to run. A half hour later, after running through the small stand of evergreen trees behind the school complex for a while, Tor had to stop. If he'd been measuring his pace he would have been able to go on longer. Then again, being caught probably wouldn't have helped his stamina any, what with the being dead and all. So it was probably a wash. The Count had to walk in the woods or at least chose to go back to the ground, which made things… not more even, but more natural. Who went flying around like that anyway? It was insane.
Cool, gods yes, but in a terrifying way. Definitely not what he'd expected.
He'd thought it would be more like… force beams coming out of his eyes or something like that. Maybe shooting fire from his mouth.
Flying…
Finally, as true dawn broke, the Count shook himself, and without even looking to see where Tor was trying to hide, just turned and walked away, back towards the school. Tor hid behind a tree, not believing it at first. It could all just be a ruse to draw him out. Or, just as likely, the man had gotten tired or bored and gone home. It wasn't like Tor was such wonderful prey that he couldn't just forget about him. That sounded far more likely.
What if, the idea hit him suddenly, the Count had only decided to go back after Trice? Was she even conscious yet? Had she survived being hit like that? Closing his eyes Tor knew what he had to do. Go back and try to find her.
He also knew what he wanted to do, which involved running for his life.
Torrence hadn't known it at the time, but in trying to defend Trice, poorly as it turned out, he'd struck a sitting Count. If it had just been some kid, he'd have been fine. Even the son of a Count given the situation, might have been alright. Oh, he'd have still been kicked out of school, probably sent to prison, but not executed for it. But to hit a Count, especially with a weapon? No. There was no way around it. A bag with metal in it was a real weapon too, it could seriously damage a person, so it couldn't be written off as a joke or something. The King would have him killed.
Well… Tor knew that it would probably never even come to the King's personal attention. Why would it? The Count's people would do it for him, probably without even a trial.
But… if he ran they might go after his family instead of just him. Blame them for hiding him, even if he never went home at all. Or possibly just for not training him correctly. The rich could be petty like that sometimes. It wasn't fair. Tor felt like a petulant little kid as he walked back towards the school. That he couldn't have known who he was fighting didn't matter either. The law was, obviously, the law. Still, maybe he could get Trice out of the way if he got there first? Claim that he was the only one that hit the Count? Then only one of them would die.
Yeah. Brilliant plan.
Except for the part where he died.
Unfortunately it was the only thing he could come up with on short notice. No one ever gave you time to plan for these things for some reason. More than a bit unfair really. Of course, what would he have done differently if he'd known ahead of time who was attacking her? Nothing really came to mind. He wouldn't have left Trice to just die after all. Not even knowing that he was going to die in her place.
Tor hugged the sides of buildings, ready to flee again if he had to. If he had to make a choice, the hangman's noose would be well before being beaten to death by a fist. Tor didn't want to die at all, but some ways really were better than others when it looked imminent like this. Making his way slowly back to where the attack had taken place in the main courtyard Tor sighed in relief. No one was there. So, provided the Count hadn't just gotten there first, that meant the girl had gotten away. Good. All he had to do now was turn himself in and lie. Convince them somehow that it was all him. The bag was still in his hand.
Right. Excellent. He needed to talk to Rolph before he did anything else then.
It wasn't fair to involve the other boy, stupid in fact, but maybe he could do this carefully enough so that his only friend wouldn't be dragged down too. Carefully, trying to avoid being seen, he made his way up the stone steps to the third level and tapped the door lock. A small click let him know that it was working. Not that it wouldn't be. It would probably function long after he was dead.
Inside Rolph sat on the edge of his bed, already clothed, but with that sleepy look people had when woken up in the middle of the night without warning. Standing next to him was one of the school officials, Proctor Campbell. The man wore all black, and had a sour look on his face.
Always.
It was just as dark right now staring at Tor. He looked sinister. Angry and more than a little like someone had kicked him in the groin. So pretty normal for him.
“Come with me young man.” Proctor Campbell didn't even wait for Rolph to confirm who it was. Then again, Campbell probably knew every single student by name on sight. It was a big part of his job. Kind of a school guardsman. So, it was over already. Hardly fair at all.
“Rolph… Here… your order is in this bag and forty other pieces, sell them and make sure my family gets the money… Please?” Tor begged, pleading with his eyes. At least it was something. A chance to do something useful before he went.
A smooth white hand took him by the arm as he tossed the bag on to his bed. At least Campbell didn't try to confiscate the bag. Now if Rolph had just understood him. He couldn't tell, because he was hustled out the door faster than the other boy could say anything. The big man stopped at the door and looked back.
“Stay inside until someone comes for you from the school. Lock the door and don't leave, understood?”
Rolph nodded.
Did they think Rolph had something to do with this too? It was ridiculous of course. He'd been asleep and… God, what had Tor done? Well, what could he do now except take as much blame as possible and try to protect his friends? Tor started shaking. He could have blamed it on the cold, or the run through the woods, but no, it was just fear. Not old fear either, a fresh new fear that told him that no matter what Torrence Green Baker did, he was going to die. Probably today. Well, that was less than fun. He hadn't even gotten to finish the food dryer yet.
Or the shield either. If he'd had that, he probably could have just stood there and let the Count hit him instead of Trice, then he wouldn't be in this mess now. There was no law that said you couldn't legally be beaten by a Count after all, or even that the beating had to hurt.
You just couldn't strike one.
The Proctor didn't hurt him as he moved him along, in fact he was gentle in a way, which was unexpected. Of course Tor wasn't trying to resist. What would be the point? They knew who'd done it. Obviously, or they wouldn't have come to his room like that. Tor held his head up. They could kill him, but he hadn't done anything wrong. Illegal, but moral. He'd just tried to help. It wouldn't buy him anything good, but that didn't make him to blame, not really, which was something to cling to. A feeble, damp little thing, not even a hope, but a thing. Better than the nothing that was all that existed without it.
The dour looking man walked them first into one of the official buildings that he'd never seen the inside of. Probably the disciplinary building. The place they took the rich kids when they were going to be tossed out on their ear for doing something too wrong to speak of. Otherwise the instructors managed the punishments, more or less. On rare occasions the older students did it. Those were usually beatings for some kind of transgression that would have you tossed out if the faculty knew you'd done it, but that even kids knew couldn't just stand without being addressed. That was just so a kid might get the lesson, but not be expelled. Tor had never had one himself, but then, he didn't cause a lot of problems that required punishments that harsh.
The inside of the room was blank. Not just featureless, but more… not there somehow. He could see that a room was there, but no matter how hard he tried, Tor couldn't recall what it looked like at all. Right, a bit of magical protection. Did they think that he was going to do something? Like what Torrence focused until he saw a door ahead of him, but didn't go towards it. Maybe they'd all just forget he was there? Given the magics on this place, it was just possible.
A few minutes later, feet starting to hurt just a little from standing, Campbell pacing back and forth agitatedly, the door at the back opened and a strange older man popped his head out.
“Mr. Baker? If you'd join us within? That should be all for now Proctor, thank you for your timely assistance.” The man walked out to him when he didn't move, holding an ancient hand out to him, beckoning.
“Don't worry about the spell, the effects fade on the other side of the door a bit. You can see the door, right? Sometimes people can't, which could be confusing…. Most of the time people can't, to tell the truth.” He seemed concerned about the door for some reason. Tor looked down and shuffled towards it without speaking. Was this the door to the execution chamber he wondered? Could be. But wait, did they even have such a thing at the school? He'd never heard of one, or even of any students being killed on campus… They probably had to go somewhere else for that. It would at least be outdoors, so that blood wouldn't stain the hardwood floors, right?
At the door he could tell that several bodies, other people, were inside. From the outer area he couldn't tell who, but then Tor might not recognize them if he saw them anyway.
A cold flash broke through his body as he stepped into the room, a warm fire was going, which contrasted sharply with the freezing he felt. His body shivered from it and not just the fear now, making him wonder at the strength of the protections on this place. You didn't normally eat up ambient energy like this just for fun and giggles.
The older man gestured towards the fire. “Huddle close while we get things ready alright? The temperature in here drops like a rock when we activate all the protections. Has to be done though…”
The other people in the room came into focus then. Kind of. Tor wondered if at first he was just in shock. Chased to his death, nearly at least, by a giant with blood in his eyes that had just tried to kill a girl, then captured and brought here to be killed by yet other people.
Yeah, that would probably do it. Whatever the reason, he had to focus, real focus, like trying to hold a pattern for a build, in order to make out who was there. They kind of slipped to and fro in his mind, like the whole room had on the other side of the door. More magic then?
Taking a few deep breaths he let himself sink deeper into the well of his mind. Everything took on a glassy, slick feel to it, but he could make out who sat waiting for him.
Trice held something, an ice pack or cool brick most likely, to the side of her face. She looked at him and nodded. Damn, they'd gotten her already. He'd have to figure out what she'd told them before he spoke. If he could. Next to her, the old man that had asked him in to the room had settled. Tor didn't recognize him at all, but he looked friendly enough.
Probably the executioner then.
The idea left a sour and cold feeling in his stomach. No need to use gallows humor just yet, he reminded himself. There'd be time for that on the actual platform itself within a day or two.
Next to the old man sat one of Rolph's accounting instructors for some reason Tor couldn't figure out, a hard looking middle aged woman with steel gray hair and a ramrod straight spine. She frowned at him when she saw him looking and jerked her head around to stare at the man next to Trice.
“How is he looking at us? Did you give him an amulet key to this room already?” Her voice had an edge to it, brittle and cold like a north wind, Tor thought. A pissed off, surly, north wind.
The man smiled kindly and nodded his head in Tor's direction.
“Not at all dear. Mr. Baker is simply that focused of mind. One of the top students in magical construction and novel building, third year and already working his own projects I hear. He even appears to have defeated the outer room's protections. Amazing really, we don't have anyone on staff here that can do it without an amulet, except Master Fines.” The older man winked and patted the seat on the other side of himself, across from Trice.
“Have a seat, it's going to take a bit for everyone to get here, I think.”
Over the next few minutes no one spoke, the accounting instructor kept glaring at him, which he probably deserved, and Trice sighed every minute or so, loudly as if trying to point out how wronged she'd been. Tor badly wanted to pull her aside and get the stories straight, but didn't know how. Would she have even trusted him if he tried? For that matter, should she? He could lie right now and claim it was all her and not him at all…
Tor sighed to himself. Better for him to die than her. She probably had a lot more going for her and besides, fashionable or not, a man simply didn't let a woman take the fall for something like this. Not even the son of a humble village baker would do that.
Finally Kolb came in, followed by Count Thomson himself. It looked like a wall of flesh and muscle had come into the room. Or a mountain of death. Tor couldn't help it, he hugged himself as he shivered a little. It was probably just the cold, not his impending death. That made sense right? Of course it did. It really was freezing in the room. It wasn't that he was a coward at all. Nope that wasn't it.
It surprised him when the Count went down in front of Trice's chair, his knees on the thick hand woven carpet of blue and black on the floor. He took her hands in his own, looking a lot like a large grown man tending to a child and spoke softly.
“Are you hurt? Did I…”
Trice stuck out her tongue and made a rude noise. “Right, like you could hurt me? Perish the thought. You did do a bit of a number on the side of my head though. Luckily Tor came along and distracted you. It got a little closer than I'd call comfortable.” She rubbed at her head and grinned. The right side of her face was swollen and huge, bruises having blossomed spectacularly already.
The giant man surprised the hell out of Tor when he turned, not even getting off of his knees. He bowed from the waist deeply, a pretty darned humble position for a Count. It made everyone else go quiet. Probably embarrassed for the man.
“Forgive me please…”
Tor wondered for a second what he was supposed to forgive the man for. Then it hit him. Right… For killing him later. Tor shrugged. If it made the man feel better why not? Kind of polite of the man really. Dead may be dead, but his family had to live on. It seemed the Count was giving him a chance to see to their protection? He didn't want to bring this royal down on them or anything, so he nodded and gave a small, weak smile, trying to look pleasant about it.
Probably failing.
“Um, no problem, after all, what are friends for, right?” Tor felt relieved when the sarcasm he felt didn't come out in his words. It didn't really matter much, but at least he wasn't causing problems for his family and friends. Rolph… He was still locked in the room.
God. Were they going to blame Rolph too?
Trice snorted.
“Just thank everything holy that we've got friends like this Tovey. If you killed me I'd have totally haunted you.” Her hands went up in the air, the right still holding something wrapped in a soft looking light blue cloth. “Toooveyyy…. Don't be a Jeeerk.”
The whole thing would have been funny, for a half dozen reasons, if they weren't in so much trouble. As it was Tor almost smiled anyway. After all, if the Count was willing to listen to this girl making fun of him without anger, maybe he wouldn't insist on going after everyone else over the insult to his person after all? If Tor could just keep this between him and the Count…
For a second he wondered if that was what Trice was trying to do too. Keep the Count focused on her to protect him? He shook his head softly. After all, why would the girl do that? There was no social rule that said good looking women had to try and protect skinny little students from royalty. No one would expect that. He wouldn't at least.
No, it must be something else.
The unpleasant looking accounting instructor sneered at him, at least he assumed it was directed at him, that or the back of the Count's head, which would just be stupid. Even someone as important to the school as an instructor had to be careful here.
“I think that we've all forgotten that the boy, Baker here, assaulted a sitting member of the peerage. That's considered treason you know. At the very least we need to investigate… Too many royals have been going into combat rage lately for it all to be happenstance…”
The Count, still kneeling, swung on the woman, his giant bulk turning in place so that he could stare. The look was calm though, almost peaceful.
“I don't recall being attacked. I just remember going into a combat rage and attacking my cousin and this man coming to her aid as required, as I would have requested of him personally had I been able to, as I would have begged him to do, and as most people simply wouldn't have… Trice, do you remember any so called assault?” The gaze shifted to the girl who laughed.
“What? Him? Of course not. He just ran up and tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention and then ran away when you turned on him. OK, true, I was kind of baffled by the effects of your battle aura, but that's all I remember seeing…”
The big man stood and returned to his seat, smiling. Hands the size of Tor's whole head spread out in a slow gesture that took in the whole room. “See, two witnesses that there was no assault at all. Except when I hit him… But he's already proclaimed himself my friend, so I take it that he won't be pressing it at court…” The deep voice suddenly went uncertain and he looked at Tor more closely. “Unless… I didn't hurt you did I?”
Tor shook his head, hardly able to believe what he'd just heard. They were both lying to protect him? Him? After what he'd done? And on top of that this royal was asking him if he was injured? Maybe they were playing a game. Every few years someone was put to death for something a lot less dangerous than hitting a Count with a bag of copper field plates.
“No. I mean, I'm fine. Tumbled a little when you brushed me, but not hurt or anything. Kolb has done worse in practice. For that matter Trice did worse the one time I had to work with her, could barely walk right for days. I… didn't know you two were related…”
Trice chuckled, a slightly pained sound, muffled by the object she held to her face. “Yep, first cousins even. Close enough that I don't have to worry about marrying the lout at least. You didn't know that? So… why did you help me?” The girl moved the cloth bundle away from her face and stared at him closely.
Tor shrugged. For all that he claimed that the Count had just brushed him, the move hurt. Fighting giants was not something he wanted to take up as a profession. He subtly tried to work his shoulder around and focus on the girl's face, the magics of the room sent his mind skittering for a few seconds before he forced himself to focus deeply enough.
“Eh?” He said, feeling brilliant when he realized that everyone was watching him. “Well, at first I was just going to leave you, because I didn't know who it was fighting and all I could see was that one of the people was huge. But then I heard you, so I kind of had to help. After all, we're friends and…” For some reason Tor yawned. Damn! That would make him look good, wouldn't it? Sitting around with his mouth open like a moron. He continued as soon as he could. “Sorry. I didn't sleep last night, I managed to get the first fifty of the clothes dryers done at least. Anyway, since we're kind of loosely in business and all, I had to at least try and do something, right?”
It wasn't a very good answer, but it was pretty close to the truth. It just sounded moronic when he said the words out loud. For some reason the girl smiled at him, which made her wince, but she kept doing it anyway. The eye contact from her was direct enough to make him feel a little uncomfortable.
“You didn't know I was a noble at all? So you jumped some unknown giant in a combat rage just to protect me? I mean, me-me, not some royal bitch who might get you a reward or something? That's…” Tears came to her eyes, but she kept smiling. “That's so sweet!”
Count Thomson stopped suddenly and stared at him.
“Fifty? In one night?”
Everyone except the accounting woman seemed slightly distracted by one thing or another. She kept glaring, looking daggers at Tor.
“Still we can't allow this boy to run around unchecked. Something triggered that combat condition. It could have been this one here. It would be a dereliction of duty to not assess this fully or at least remove him from the school. We can't allow threats and attacks to go unpunished.” The woman's lips went white in rage and she rose halfway out of her chair. For a second it felt like the woman was going to strike out at him, a small metal object that looked a lot like a cutter appeared in her hand. Tor hadn't noticed it there before at least.
“As a member of the Royal Guard, it's my duty to protect from such potential threats. Now, I'm taking this boy to the holding cell until minds clear and you people start listening to reason… Come with me… now boy.” This last came out as a growl, menacing and darker than Tor had thought a woman would be capable of. Any woman. Instead of an older academic, he realized that he was facing some kind of hidden guard.
The Royal Guards were not known for their restraint and brooked no insolence at all. Tor shuddered and stood slowly, trying to make certain that he didn't provoke her in any way. His hands went out, palms slightly down, about shoulder high without thinking about it. It was something Kolb had taught him to do. It would look like he was surrendering, but leave him able to fight if he had to. For all the good it would do him if he tried. No one could beat a cutter or lance like that, even people that were good enough to take a sword. Honestly given everything he probably couldn't beat the woman with any weapon or even if she was empty handed.
Whoever this accounting instructor was in real life, the move wasn't lost on her, she flowed into a fighting stance so smoothly that Tor almost didn't notice it happening. The subtle shifting of muscle and bone put her in line to attack instantly. The only thing that saved him was that Kolb laughed, distracting the woman.
“Wensa, sit down and stop being foolish. We're all worried about this. It was clearly an assassination attempt, wielding one of our charges as the weapon nonetheless. I'd guess Austran technology. But Torrence didn't do it and you know that. This had to be someone highly skilled in magics of the mind at the very least and more likely an Austran agent. Tor's good and I have no doubt that in ten or twenty years' time he'll be able to do exactly what was done here, but right now? Not even with his skills. Besides, why would he?”
The older woman didn't take her eyes off of him, or relax at all.
“What reason? Well, he's from a poor family. Gold is an ancient reason and usually at the heart of matters. For that matter lust could be the cause too. He ran to save the Ducherina after all. Perhaps this was all merely a ploy to get her under the bed covers?” She raised her left hand to forestall speech. “I know, that one's not too likely, it would be too far for most to go just to get a woman, no matter how comely, into bed, and probably not needed, but we should at least check for a sudden influx of gold into his pocket…”
Tor stopped breathing.
He did have gold in his pocket, at least back in his room in his clothing chest, near the bottom. Pocket adjacent. The remaining thirty gold out of what Rolph had paid him for the dryers he bought. A simple search would uncover it. Should he tell them about it first? But wouldn't that make it look like Rolph had something to do with all this? Tor just didn't know what to do.
Luckily, he didn't have to.
“Captain Wensa…” The Count spoke softly, his voice slow and careful as if trying to not insult the woman, even if he felt she was being foolish. “Torrence Baker is a friend to us and should be treated as such. Further, he's an emerging talent in his field and may be of great use to Noram as the years pass. I think you owe him… not an apology perhaps, as you are simply doing your job, but at least the benefit of the doubt? He's offered no violence, so perhaps you might decide to not eviscerate him in the safe room?”
The older woman didn't look at the Count at all, instead her gaze never left Tor, making him wonder if he was going to make it out of the room alive. She took a visible breath and finally lowered the weapon in her hand.
“This boy stands in an assassin's defensive position and I'm supposed to believe he's just some baker's boy given a King's scholarship?”
Kolb smiled. “That's the position I taught him to take and fight from if held prisoner. No real talent for fighting, but he follows instructions pretty well. Notice how he eluded Count Thomson on foot? Also as I taught him.”
The woman raised her left eyebrow, a skeptical look that sent a chill down Tor's back.
“Also what an assassin would do in the same situation.”
Tor put his hands down slowly. His arms were getting tired and if she wanted to kill him he'd be dead. Little enough he could do about it. Slowly, not knowing why, he spoke.
“I'm not an assassin or spy or anything. I've been here for two years, learning how to build field structures for magical devices. I… I don't know how I'm supposed to make that clear to you…”
Trice moved in beside him and pulled on his shoulder gently.
“You don't have to. Captain, I commend your efforts in general, but going after a third year student that just risked his life to save mine isn't exactly going to win any friends. Leave him be now, alright? If you keep this up he'll break off his business ties with me and Sara Debri and refuse to sell anything to us. You wouldn't want that, would you?” Her voice sounded playful for the situation. That's something Tor had finally noticed about the girl, she didn't seem to take much seriously at all. She'd nearly died a few hours before and here she was making jokes and playing?
Wensa still glared at him. “Fine. But if he turns out to be an Austran agent in disguise don't come to me saying I should have protected you better. How can I do my job if you won't let me?”
The older man rose then and took Tor by the arm, gently removing him from the building. The instant he got outside his head cleared and the world came into a sharp, almost biting, focus. Everything popped into place. Hard
The man next to him smiled and patted him on the back gently.
“You should probably go back to your room now. It's early yet, but I don't think you should miss lessons today, tired as you undoubtedly are. Captain Wensa will probably be watching, to catch you doing anything out of the ordinary. Your best defense there is to keep living your life normally.”
Tor nodded and walked back to his room, stiff and drained, like he'd been beaten and accused of some unspecified crime for some obscure reason. The beating part wasn't true at least, even the one blow from the Count wasn't a beating. Not yet. No matter what else that Captain Wensa was, the woman wasn't his friend, that much was clear. He'd have to make sure she didn't get a chance to blame him for… everything.
The trudge to his room seemed to take a lot longer than normal. Probably because he wasn't walking very fast. How was he supposed to just go about things as normal now? Who's normal? Could he live his regular life with Wensa watching him? Tor didn't think so. It felt like anything that could be done would look fishy to the woman. There were still projects to work on and some of them weren't exactly regular studies, right? The food dryer he'd promised Rolph for instance. Well, he hadn't promised it, but it was a good idea and Tor wouldn't let it go just because of some woman that hated him on sight.
The shield had to be done too, or else Kolb would probably kill him in ten days. Even with a practice sword the man could to it. The feeling of those mighty blows against the pell seemed to reverberate beneath his feet as he trudged up the stairs. How hard did you have to hit something to make it felt four days later? He shook his head. Harder than Tor ever wanted to feel personally. He definitely had to work on that shield.
Inside the room Rolph sat nervously, shiftily looking at him as Tor flopped down on the bed, knowing that even trying to sleep would be impossible. For one thing he needed to get to class in an hour and should get at least a little food if he could before then.
His friend kept looking at him, then, after about half a minute looked away and spoke softly.
“So… What's going on? No one told me anything except that Count Thomson had been attacked? Is everything alright? Is he… alive?”
Not knowing what else to say, Tor started at the beginning, and tried to be clear about everything, knowing that it all sounded more than a little strange. If it weren't for the Proctor coming to get him Rolph probably wouldn't have believed him at all. Who'd blame him? He jumped a combat crazy Count and not only survived it, but didn't even get in trouble for doing it? He mentioned this to Rolph, hoping he could shed some light on the situation.
Sitting quietly for a moment the big man finally spoke.
“Well… I know Tovey well enough to say that he isn't setting you up or anything. If he accepted that you were just trying to help Patricia, then that's that. So at least that won't come back on you. Not that it really would have, even if it hadn't been her. Tove hates the combat rage, feels it steals away his free will. Handy in battle though. I mean the natural shield and the disorientation aura make him pretty much unbeatable in a battlefield situation. Probably why he wasn't hurt at all, his shield. Works for us at least, it would be hard for him to explain away a bad wound. He'd have tried to though, I guarantee you. Even if you'd crippled him to protect someone else. Thank goodness that wasn't needed. Trice doesn't have a shield, or even combat rage at all really, she's different… which is why she's spent years at the special academy. You… know what they do there right?”
The question made Tor blink. Rubbing his tired and sticky eyes he shook his head.
“Not… not really. I always assumed it was where assassins and spies were trained. I mean the kids there are always tough, right? And they don't exactly advertise who they are…” It made sense in a way, someone had to fill those jobs and they needed to get the training somewhere.
Rolph shook his head and laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh, just a gentle chuckle. Standing he stretched his arms high and then bent at the waist, his lower back popping. Even as young as he was, being that big wore on his body. Rolph never complained, but it made some things harder for him. Worse, he was probably going to get another half foot taller, maybe more. His family, like the royals, often grew into their mid-twenties he'd said, a high merchant thing. At five-four Tor had about finished his own growth. He might make another inch if he was lucky. Everyone in his family was short like that and he wasn't the tallest at all.
Looking down towards where Tor sat on his bed, Rolph kept going. “OK… I have this from, well, let's just say sources. Friends of friends and that kind of thing. Patricia backed it up, so it's probably correct. The special school is basically an intense survival course for kids of the rich and famous that might be targets of assassination or kidnapping attempts. About half of them are of royal blood and the other half might as well be.” Pointing at the sack on Tor's table, the one that held the clothes drying field devices, he nodded. “Sara Debri? The one you're in business with? Her mother is the head of Debri House. The largest merchant and manufacturing concern in the kingdom. If her mother likes your work you could end up with these going kingdom wide. But…”
The news shocked Torrence more than a bit. The girl had seemed so nice, unassuming. To be a good person with something like that hanging over her head… Sure Rolph was OK, but weren't most rich people snobs? He'd met plenty of them at the school that treated him like trash for being poor. Maybe she didn't realize how low his station was. Well, she'd probably find out now. He laughed darkly, which got a questioning look from his roommate. Shrugging, feeling a little sullen after the hard night of work and then the events of the early morning, he explained, or tried to at least. Rolph shook his head.
“Nope. She knows exactly who you are. Due diligence. She came around to check you out the morning after your first drying test. I told her, and Tricia all about you. Your work habits, how smart you are and how many brothers and sisters you have. Even that you could probably open your own bakery if you wanted to, so you aren't going to be easily trapped into a single financial agreement. Kind of impressed the hell out of them both you know. How many kids our age already have a fallback career?”
Not, he told Rolph, that baking was hard. He'd had to help out in the shop since he was six or so, working at actually making the bread, rolls and specialty confections the whole time. There was no one to watch the kids when they weren't in school, so they all worked as soon as they could. Not a huge deal really.
The big man shook his head.
“Not a big thing to you, but I can't even make toast, much less bread. If I ever become poor I'm going to have to move in with you just to make sure I have food. Well, that or marry some rich girl. That might work. Sara's kind of cute, don't you think?”
Tor shrugged. Of course she was cute. Rich too. All that just meant that she was just another girl that was too good for the likes of him. Just as well, she was too tall for him anyway. He tried not to let the thought become bitter. It didn't work, but he tried. That had to count for something.
They talked for a while longer, on the third use of the name Tricia, Tor had to ask who that was. Rolph snorted, this time a little derisively.
“The Ducherina Patricia Alyson Morgan. Known to you as Trice. Sometimes called Tricia in polite circles. Really only her close friends call her Trice. It's kind of a name from her childhood. Some royal brat of a Prince couldn't pronounce her real name right when he was a baby, so the name stuck. She seems OK with it.”
Getting up, feeling stiff and sore as well as tired now, Tor moved to the beige burlap bag on his desk and pulled out ten of the copper plates, handing them over to Rolph. Tor smiled when he did it and mentioned that if he hurried and got them in the post that day, his mother would have them on her birthday. At least if he paid for rush delivery. the Capital was a few thousand miles away, so that could take a few days. Longer than that really, normally, but it was doable if you paid enough gold for it.
“You should get some wrapping paper or some nice cloth to go around the ones going to her. Maybe with some pressed flowers or something like that? I know my mom always responds well to gifts like that. For that matter… I should probably send one home to my family as well. Wash for twelve people adds up, and in the rain or cold weather it's a pain in the rear to take care of. With this everyone should be able to wear clean clothes most of the time.” The words rambled and Tor knew it. Instead of commenting on that his friend stood up and took out a small chest from his foot locker.
It was nice, dark wood of some kind with metal hinges and flowers carved into the top of it. The stain darkened the wood more in the cuts of the carving and it had that expensive shine that only things owned by rich people ever really had. When it was opened the inside was lined in red velvet. Nice. Tor probably couldn't have afforded work of that kind at all. When Rolph took four of the drying plates out and put them in the box, Tor got that this wasn't for Rolph, or even the present itself, but rather that it was the wrapping paper.
Tor's breath caught at the luxury of it. At least she could reuse the box, Tor considered.
“That… should impress her.” He said quietly, trying not to show what a bumpkin he really was. The cost of that box alone could have probably fed his whole family for a month. Maybe two.
“I hope so. She… has friends that will see it, and not all of them are nice about such things. If I present it to her in any way less than perfectly, they'll talk. Bitches. Anyway, at least the gift itself is nice, and I know that no one else will have the same thing for her. Even dad will be jealous this time, which is a first, since he always gets her really nice gifts. Hey, any thought to the food drying idea at all? I'd love to send that one off next, if you get a chance to finish it.”
Tor raised a single finger and told his friend that he'd be starting on it later that night, or early the next day at least, after he slept. A novel build like that needed clarity after all, which his foggy head couldn't provide at the moment. Rolph's eyes went wide.
“Hey, I didn't mean… I mean, take your time… I know you're busy and all.” For some reason his friend looked scared suddenly. Not frightened as if Tor would hurt him, but a sense that things were moving faster than he'd thought they would. That's what Tor figured at least.
It was fast. That kind of speed, if he could master it, could be the hallmark of his work maybe? A lot of new fields took a year or more to reach the first template attempt. That he'd worked on this one for less than a week was decent. He'd have done it faster if all the other things in his life hadn't gotten in the way. Oh well, that was life everywhere. Always getting in the way of the important stuff.
The shield would be harder to do. Much so.
Every time he thought he had it, Tor noticed something else he needed to add to it or tweak a little so that it wouldn't leave him vulnerable to other kind of attack. Stopping dust in the air, or smoke, was good, obviously needed, since Kolb had witnessed Trice throw something in his face once already. That would almost certainly be coming in the test then. Tor would have added it, so he had to assume Kolb would too. But if he was guarded against smoke, what about fire? Or just raw heat? That could, he knew, be used as a weapon too. And he still had to figure out how to shunt force away from him. If he didn't then a single blow from any of the older students, and some of the younger ones, would just send him flying. Protected was good, but if he could be knocked around they could just toss him in the pond and drown him. He could swim, but he couldn't hold his breath forever while being held under.
Some of that would have to be set aside he knew. He only had a little over a week left, and limited work time. He'd get the food dryer done and then work on that as much as he could. He just hoped that the test wouldn't be too harsh. Full battlefield conditions would be bad enough, but if Kolb got creative, he'd be in real trouble.
Shaking himself he looked up to find Rolph looking at him with a bemused expression.
“Sorry Rolph… Thinking about what I have to get done in the next week. Lots. Anyway, I have to get to class soon. That old guy, I don't know who he is, long beard, little stooped? Anyway, he suggested that I don't cut any classes, because Wensa has it out for me. Did you know she's some kind of secret guard here for the royals? She seems to want to torture a confession from me or something.” Tor shuddered. “The look on her face, as if I wasn't even human… Scary.”
“Wensa? My accounting instructor? No… I didn't know that about her. Are you sure?” The tone was more than a little suspicious, it sounded angry. It was as if her accusing Tor was a personal insult to him.
“Seems so, it's what everyone said. Well, I better go so I don't give her any ammunition to come after me with. It seemed like she's planning on being all over me. Too bad she isn't a little younger, then it could at least look like I was having fun.” Tor tried to grin, but it didn't really show on his face, he didn't think. The idea was just too unpleasant.
Rolph did a double take, eyes going wide. The idea of Tor being followed around by a smitten Wensa ran across his face, clearly enough that even Tor could follow his thoughts from it, making the redhead bite his upper lip to keep from laughing. Then the larger boy turned beet red. He fought it, but he eventually lost control and started laughing. Sticking out his tongue, Tor threw his pillow at him, hitting Rolph in the head.
“Hey, I didn't laugh at you when Martha Jensen kept following you around last year, did I? True, Martha's younger, cuter and has the decency to not want to kill you, but other than that, it's exactly the same thing.” He looked at Rolph sideways, facing away from him slightly. He obviously wasn't going to buy it. The laughter kept coming and didn't show any signs of stopping. Sighing Tor looked down at the floor, shaking his head sadly.
Rolph waved and fought to speak. “Not that… Sorry, it's just… just that Wensa is always such a stick in the mud! If she does start following you around we can have a lot of fun starting rumors about it. Oh… That will show her not to accuse my friends of, you know… what was she accusing you of?”
“Trying to make Count Thomson kill Trice, I think. She wasn't too specific about how this was supposed to work though. Maybe magic? I guess that could be done. Maybe. Not by me though. Kolb pointed that out to her. I guess I'm supposed to be an Austran spy or something? It would be a good trick, because I'm not even really certain I know where Austra is on a map. But that's probably what a real Austran spy would say, isn't it?” Tor packed up his school work. He didn't need anything for his first class, meditation, but the others would need his homework and notes.
His friend went silent and stared at him.
“Wait, she accused you of trying to kill Trice? When all you did was protect her, stepping between her and a man in full combat rage? I… That's..” The red he turned was very different this time going from red, to slightly purple and then into white. A subtle shaking started then.
“Alright Rolph?” Tor felt suddenly worried. It was a difficult situation, but so far he'd lived, which was better than he'd expected a few hours before, so it shocked him that his friend was so obviously upset by that bit of news. Rolph didn't speak, instead he just packed his own things up and headed towards the door. Stalked might have been a better description.
They went to breakfast together, but Rolph still wouldn't speak, he was breathing heavily and seemed angry. Really mad. Like he wanted to hurt someone.
Leaning over Tor spoke softly, trying to keep anyone else from hearing him. “You do know that I didn't do anything right? I mean, other than what I said? I…” Shifting a little he scooted closer as a few people stared at them. “I'd never hurt anyone, even royals, if I could help it. And heck, I like Trice! Tovey too. If I was going to get the Count to attack anyone it would be Dorgal or one of his buddies. In fact it's not a bad idea, maybe I'll bring it up with him?”
Rolph gave him a funny look and then chuckled, the mood breaking as fast as it came.
“I know that Tor. But if Wensa pushes this there could be problems. Royal Guards, even ones that are hiding, maybe especially those, don't play by the same rules that everyone else does. If she thinks you're involved in this, then you may be in real danger. You need to be careful for a while.”
Great, Tor thought. Because being a student wasn't hard enough, now he had some high level professional bully after him too. Weren't the regular ones sufficient? Really, Dorgal was doing a decent job of it so far, it was a bit unfair of the woman to horn in on his position, wasn't it? It seemed against the code of bullying ethics or something.
He sighed and went to his meditation class. He tried to keep his eyes peeled for danger, but really, what was he going to do if something happened? A Royal Guard would just kill him, no matter what he did. Maybe he should consider leaving school altogether?
Suddenly it seemed a lot better choice than staying and being either accused of being some kind of spy or assassin, or worse, just killed when he went to the restroom one night.
Then again, if he left now, to someone like Wensa, wouldn't he just be confirming guilt?
But what else could he do?