Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  Not that either of them had told him that the other woman was her birth mother, but it was kind of obvious. Why she was working at Tor's house he didn't know, but the woman was good at her job. She was the one that made up all the food baskets his Fast Transport clients ate on normal flights. They were pricy, true, but worth it. No one had ever complained about the food at least and it rarely went uneaten.

  The King gestured for them to all sit, but remained standing, which he normally didn't do in Tim's presence. Probably because it was actually work to look down that far.

  "I received word through William Smythe that you successfully put all one thousand men on the ground in Rochester Barony. They're holding for now. We might need your services to do that again in the coming days. I have to say, the day would have been lost without your aid. A bargain, for only five thousand gold." The King didn't look at him askance or anything over the amount, which was good. After all, at his normal rates it would have been ten times that at least, if not more.

  Sure, he'd said a thousand and would have taken that too, but that really had been for two hundred people. This way he could give each of the others a nice bonus and bind them to him, like he had with Millert and Mona.

  It would seem generous, but that wasn't the point, was it? Loyalty could be bought, if you did things correctly. With Mona it was a big, but unexpected gift. If he spaced them out, she'd stick around and be willing to put up with a lot just on the off chance that someday there might be another one.

  With these four, well, they weren't Mona, which was a plus all the way around, but they'd appreciate him noting who'd done the work, even if he did take the lions share.

  The King cleared his throat then.

  "Ehm. Well, I hate to be rude, but I need to be at the table soon. They can't start without me and I fear the Kitchen staff will start cursing my name if I let their dishes get cold. Can I count on your aid?"

  Timon liked the man, he really did. He also didn't like being kept on a string, even one made of gold coins.

  "We'll try to at least make certain someone is available. We have a wedding vacation to go on and all that sort of thing. Otherwise it won't look real." It wasn't an honest point and Trice rolled her eyes but Richard acted as if it had to be the most important thing in the world.

  "That's an honest consideration. I have to say, even though I won't rescind my signature on this, it's making me a bit uneasy. Well, anyway, I have to go. I'll see you all tomorrow?"

  There were head nods and soft murmurs in agreement then as the man left, not saying anything else. That they could have done the whole thing over the communications device was true, but it wasn't like they had a ten hour trip to Tor's house, was it? They could walk and it wouldn't take an hour, even on Noram Day.

  They flew, which meant they were at his brother's door within two minutes, his cases floating behind him. Terry had a bag, as did Sherri, but this was Collette's house and Trice clearly stayed there enough that she didn't need to pack anything with her. That was the lovely thing about magical clothing and all the other devices a person could have now. It really didn't take a lot of room. It was just possible that the girl had everything she needed on her, if she'd gotten in good with Sam and Guide. They were young and she was pretty, so that was just possible.

  Then again, she might just have her own room, with her things in it, just up the stairs.

  Regardless, Collette didn't bother knocking, so when they got in, there was a bit of a surprise. Ali was there, walking over to welcome them and the house front section of the place had at least ten people in it. Most of them in white robes.

  High Servants.

  "Great! We were waiting for you all. Come this way, dinner is about to be served."

  Chapter six

  Timon woke in a rush, alone in the dark. For a moment he felt like someone was standing over him, watching him sleep. He knew who it was without ever having to open his eyes. The giant form was female, and smelled like her. Nora. Countess Alan. A shiver of pure fear ran through him, until he remembered that he'd killed her himself, taking her head into two parts with a wave of his hand.

  It took a while before he was able to get a light on, not wanting to get out of bed, in case the ghost of the woman had come to haunt him. That was silly. Not the idea of haunting, given everything he knew about magic that almost had to happen, the imprint of a person lasting far longer than their body would. No, the silly part would be Nora coming after him. After all, he had a physical form and magic. No ghost was going to stand up to that for very long if it came to a fight. It wasn't a real point anyway, he noticed when the light came on. There wasn't anything there at all. Just his own fear.

  That almost had to happen, and this wasn't the first time since he'd been tortured that he'd woken like this, covered in sweat and shaking. It didn't leave him feeling strong or tough, but he could deal with it, once he was awake.

  "Of course getting married to Trice isn't going to be helping that, is it?" He spoke out loud, into the empty cottage room. The bed was soft enough, and formed to him perfectly, but he got up anyway, even if it was at least an hour before dawn. This time of year that meant it would be around six-thirty in the morning. He moved to find his watch, not having invested in a wall clock yet. It said it was a bit earlier than that, being just a few minutes after six. It was a good enough time to wake up at any rate.

  The thing there was that he didn't know what to do. He was getting married that day, but hadn't really had a chance to get ready for the idea. Did he feel afraid? Nervous? Really he didn't feel anything at all. The whole thing felt less than real for some reason. Like a bad joke was being played on him... by someone. That part was hazy, but the pieces were there. After all, wouldn't the very best possible outcome be for Rico Gala to simply die? There were ten thousand ways to make that happen, and marrying a child wasn't one of them.

  Or was it? Could he, or more to the point, someone else who didn't need an alibi, use that as a cover for the man's death? Move in and help him have a horse riding accident or fall in the bath and hit his head fatally? Yes, the Baron would suspect, but if Trice was busy getting married, which would end the problem, that could be used to deflect the whole thing.

  Then, since he wasn't planning to force her to stay married to him, most likely, they could get her favorite uncle, who happened to be the King, to annul the whole thing. It was a good enough plan that he decided to make it happen, even if no one else was currently working that angle.

  Of course Trice, if she were smart, would simply bear the shame of being his wife for a few years in order to keep hold on him. There really weren't that many people she could marry after all and unless she wanted to wait for Terry, none of them would be as close to Tor as he was. Well, Gerent was really, but the man just wasn't that great looking. He might be later, if she was willing to wait. Tor had something planned there, didn't he?

  Stretching first, he stood and moved into his morning chores, washing and then dressing for the early part of the day. Then, even though he didn't feel hungry at all, he made a small breakfast for himself out of two eggs and some decent yellow cheese, along with a fairly stale piece of bread that Mona had made. It wasn't great bread, but it served well enough. He was a bit picky that way, wanting baked goods to be well made, but the woman tried hard, so he hadn't mentioned it at all. It was enough that she'd stopped hitting on him every day.

  After eating and cleaning up well enough that no one would know that he'd even been there, he decided to practice building something. He was a bit out of sorts, his nerves finally starting to stretch thin with the day coming at him like it was, not knowing what the whole thing was really all about, if it wasn't simply what it seemed.

  That meant it was about the perfect time to make a useful copy without a template. He had a few things that he'd been working with. Not-flyers, an explosive weapon, a powerful force lance and a large cutter. All he needed was something small to put it on. That he managed by going outside and looking
for a tiny rock. The one he found was about the size and shape of a giant's finger, which meant it filled his palm completely. It was part of a large rock, or had been, broken and with jagged edges, the color being a bland gray with one darker streak. It was an ugly thing really, but the shape wasn't bad.

  He let himself sit on the floor of his main room and worked as hard as he could manage on it, holding the pattern in his head until it resonated with the pattern of the stone, meaning that it was in place and decently strong. The hard part would be testing it, since there was nothing much to cut in the area. Instead of bothering with slicing up his own belongings, he walked outside in the morning sun and triggered it, feeling the four foot line it made in the air. It was a thin sliver of information that just drove things away from a central point, so it would work in any direction. That was different than the ones Tor made, but this wasn't a tool, it was a weapon, meant to kill anyone it touched, no matter how that happened.

  Near the edge of the water there was a place where several large boulders had been put in place, either by the water itself, or some municipal project a very long time before. They were different sizes, and made rough steps down to the water that men and women used when doing their wash or to bath in the summer heat. Triggering the shard in his hand Timon made a few cuts, just shaping the stone into something smoother and more pleasant to walk on. Real steps and sitting platforms. He even carved a small wash area, complete with a bench under the water.

  The hardest part was actually tossing the decently large chunks of stone to the side, since some of them weighed more than he did. It was something he could manage, with just a bit of effort.

  The voice that came from behind him was familiar enough, but had managed to sneak right up on him.

  Petra.

  "Nice. Of course you put this right between your and Tor's houses, which means that anyone using it will have to beat a path through your yard. That's what they'll do too, because no one is going to walk on the wizard's lawn." She sounded a bit subdued for some reason, which could be tiredness, or almost anything. She had a lot of stress in her life after all, with her family being in danger and her own recent ordeals, which had been as bad as his own, or worse.

  After all, Count Rodriguez had been her fiancé. There was a real betrayal there. Tim really hadn't trusted Nora at all. Yes, that left him not trusting women, especially giant ones, but Pet had to be wondering if she could trust anyone at all. Even those closest to her. It wasn't fair. It did remind him to pester King Richard about the man's execution again. If they waited too long he might be broken out of his cell or something, which wouldn't serve at all.

  "Yeah. I was thinking I could set up a little stand to sell things for festivals, if Tor keeps doing that here, now that he's moved. Maybe put in some lights along the walkway here?" He hadn't really been thinking that at all, but it was a good enough idea. "Maybe some more trees? There's plenty of water for it after all."

  The woman looked out at the slightly muddy expanse in front of her, standing on the second step that he'd made, near the top.

  "Sounds good. So is this a gift to the city, on the day of your wedding? That's pretty decent of you. Most people just get drunk and try to forget that they're getting older. Kind of a milestone, marriage."

  He grinned up at her and hefted the stone with the cutter on it for her to see.

  "I noticed I was a bit worked up, so I made this copy. I'm trying to learn to do it under stress, in case something ever comes up. I was just testing it." Then, without really considering the idea, he tossed it into the water. No one would find it before the field faded and even if they did, there was no real chance of anyone turning it on. Petra winced anyway.

  "That's a weapon grade cutter, built on stone? How much would that be worth, do you think?"

  "About two hundred gold. Or it would be if the stone was nicer. I could shape something and etch a sigil. I'm not making things for sale. If you want one, let me know and I'll do something nicer."

  That got the woman to take a few steps closer and stand near him, not touching at all.

  "Definitely load me up with weapons. Judy too. Karen Derring as well. I know you two aren't that close yet, but she's one of my best friends."

  "Also a relative of mine. It makes sense. I'll do that, as I practice making things."

  She was silent for a while, but finally said something that Tim kind of thought she'd been working up to for days.

  "You don't have to do this, you know. You don't owe Patricia anything, and while this is a dire enough situation for her, it isn't your concern. Gala won't go to war over it, not after what happened to her and Gerent there. Oh, they might be offended, but the Baron isn't a fool. I'm kind of surprised that no one mentioned that a bit more strongly already. Something isn't right here, is it?"

  The nice thing there was that she was actually asking him, as if he might know something.

  "I know. There have been some hints. Collette started to say something yesterday, about Trice using me to work her way in to something. I have to imagine that's into my grandfather's circle of control. Nothing else would make sense at all. Not yet. It's a good enough plan, honestly, working with Tor would serve her better. Count Lairdgren and I aren't close." Picking up a small stone, one that had been cut from a large boulder to his left, he tossed it away, letting it lodge in the rocks a bit closer to Tor's place. "I think there's also a plan in place to remove this Rico Gala, using me and this marriage as a cover. If there isn't, then we should set that up, don't you think? If I get time and no one else does anything, I mean. Otherwise, it's wasted effort."

  "That, or get the man to marry someone else. From what I've heard, that isn't too likely. He has a tendency to kill his playmates. Really, Gala should have killed him already themselves. He's the only child. That makes a difference to some people. They're willing to put up with almost anything to protect their heirs." The dark complected woman sighed and shook her head. "So, for today we sell your tender flesh to the wicked Patricia, to protect her from a fate... Well, it would probably be no worse than death, not in the end. Really, my coin would be on her killing him, but that would end up with a bigger mess than if she died. After all, she isn't anyone's direct heir."

  "Right. Well, we should be off then, shouldn't we? I don't know what the plan is for the day at all really. I need to shower again. After that..." Letting his hands spread he started to walk back to his little cottage, Petra slapping him on the back as he passed her.

  They didn't talk a lot, at first, but as he got cleaned up again, after his work of moving all those rocks, other people started to show up at his door. The first was expected really, being Judith, who'd had to stay in Printer overnight. Then his relatives started coming. The men at least. Terry and Tor came over at the same time, with Count Thomson.

  They were there for moral support, even though Tor didn't seem all that happy about the plan. He didn't harp on it, just frowning a lot. It wasn't his normal way at all.

  The Count on the other hand seemed almost overjoyed.

  "Timon!" He pounded him on the back hard enough that both of their shields activated. "This is a banner day. A very good match too. She's a bit older than you are, but well connected and a good person, once you get past the surface. I have to say, I've been trying to find someone suitable for her for a long time now. It's harder than it sounds. All the steps. A Ducharina is too highly placed to have a large potential pool, and the way the contract was written she had to have a very good marriage for it to count. We couldn't raise up a plowboy and claim he was a prince or something."

  Tor snorted then, his face a bit sour. More than a little, actually.

  "And yet I was deemed good enough, even before I was a Countier. Imagine that."

  Tovey actually glared at him and shook his head a little.

  "Tor... Gala would have gotten on his hands and knees and let you stand on his back so that the height would have looked right for the wedding. You saved his city. That alone is why
he ate what Tiera and Timon did there, freeing Patricia and Gerent. Timon isn't the only boy that's available you know, he's just the only one that Galasia has to accept, because of you."

  "Ah." There wasn't a lot of excitement in his voice, but he stopped snarking at them at least.

  There really wasn't a lot for him to do yet, since the day was mainly about the women, Tovey informed him with a sage nod, having been married himself for a while. That meant sitting around and waiting, which felt both lazy and boring. At about nine other people were showing up, including Mona, her husband and both girls.

  They knew Tor at least, which made some sense, being that they had shields and Not-flyers. True, they could have gone into his place and gotten them for themselves, but no one did that really.

  They bowed and stood back, being quiet. Mona gave him a funny look, but didn't say anything to Tor, since it was obvious that Tovey was someone special.

  "Gentlemen." They all bowed again, but didn't expect introductions really. She turned to Timon, who was the one that paid her after all and smiled. "You didn't mention if we were needed for the wedding itself. I can help with it. Who's getting married anyway?" She was a good bit less formal than most servants would have been, and Millert winced, since he at least understood that Timon was a noble. That meant he could get away with a whole lot, if he felt offended.

  "Me. Don't lecture about my age, I know that one already. I believe most of the food will be taken care of, but you should get with Tor here about that. What do you have planned?" He was joking really, but Tor stood and gestured for everyone else to follow him, except Tovey. Terry, it seemed, was going to be a baker that day. It made sense. He was better than Mona was by about three or four times already, after all. A few minutes later Millert came out, grinning, and muttered something about crazy wizards, then left.