by P. S. Power
The idea that this could be used to bind the higher ups of the rebellion to them was lost on Timon either, but he felt a flash of emotion that he didn't recognize fully. It was a dark thing that hurt a bit, before he managed to ignore it for a few moments.
"Right." He had an explosive weapon in his right hand and used it, killing the three relatively innocent people instantly. The flesh made a sound that was wet and deep. Everyone stood in shock for a moment when it was done, until the Baroness screamed. It was more of a yelp really, and not that loud.
He shushed her anyway.
"I know it's gross, but this way their heads are gone, so they can't be identified. We need to bury them and get out of here. Move." He sounded old. That and so hard he wouldn't have questioned him at all either. Even the guardsmen did what he told them, getting the Baron and his family on the craft, then helping him to move some dirt. Trice didn't help, just staring at him the whole time, shaking slightly.
He got that. It was a bloody and cold thing that he'd done. Needed for a lot of reasons, but evil too. She'd probably have to hate him now. It was going to make the rest of their wedding vacation tense, no doubt about it.
They didn't have shovels and didn't want to make too much noise, so used a force lance to move the soil and form a hole deep enough to kick the bloody bodies in. One of the guards did all that for them, so no one else would have to. It took a bit, since there were pieces spread out all over the clearing behind where they'd sat. It was going to be pretty clear that something had died there, but as long as no one dug for the bodies, they should stay hidden. Eventually the grass would grow back and no one would be the wiser. The three innocent people would have just vanished one night.
No one said anything about it, not until they shut the lamp off and got on board the craft. The others all sitting around the table in the main section, looking pale and in shock. Timon didn't do more than look at them, moving them out of the area, heading due north, since most of Printer was off in that direction. He didn't know where the Baron needed to go, but if it was home, that would be a good start. Trice didn't speak to him at all. She just sat and hugged herself, not looking at him.
Finally, not long after, the guard that had kept things together well enough to move the bodies came and pointed at a small grouping of lights on the horizon.
"Eagerton. Set down on the far side and we can get them home from there. The Baron wishes to speak to you both before you leave, if that's alright with you, of course." The man was free of facial hair and probably good looking enough really. Tall for a guard, nearing seven feet, which meant somewhere in his background he had a noble relative or two. The hair was blond too. It was too dark to see his eyes, but Timon was willing to bet they wouldn't be brown.
"Right. We should be down in a few minutes. We'll come back."
It made for a tense landing, since whatever the man had to say, Timon doubted it would be fun listening to it. It could be anything, from calling him a monster, to arresting him, or at least trying to. That would cause a fight, since he didn't plan to go with them, and he knew for a fact that he was better armed. Tim would live, as long as the man didn't take off after Trice over it all. It wasn't her fault, the action had been his and really, as horrible as it made him feel, he knew it was the logical thing to do.
After they touched down, with no buildings in sight, but a single lamp glowing in the distance, he stood to go and see to whatever it was. Trice stood up too, and put her hand on his shoulder. There were no words.
When they got to the back everyone had already gone outside and moved away from the door, leaving only the dark haired Baron there, standing already to go down the steps.
He bowed once, holding it for a bit.
"I was suspicious of your intent in this. Both of you. You're actions tonight show you to be what you claimed however. I regret having allowed it to happen in the first place. Thank you for coming when we needed you, and for doing that for us, to protect us all. I won't forget this."
Then he turned, as if to leave, but stopped and tilted his head back toward Trice.
"I heard something, from some friends of mine. People you should meet. They suggested that there might be trouble in Gala soon and your name came up? I don't know any more about that, but I'll look into it for you, if you wish?"
Trice, for all that she still looked pale and almost like she were ill, managed to rally, professionalism taking over.
"Please do. The Baron Gala and his wife the Baroness were both murdered. Their son, Rico, sits in the position now. There was an attack that took place, or so I heard. If he's coming for me, I'd appreciate the warning. It shouldn't be a factor, but Rico Gala isn't a well-balanced person. If your friends are working with him, tell them to be careful. Unpredictable doesn't even begin to cover the situation."
The man nodded, but turned and walked away then, without scolding him at all.
When the hatch was closed and they'd safely taken off, to head back towards the Capital, Trice started crying. It wasn't loud, but Timon could still tell she was doing it.
"I'm so sorry." There was a catch in the middle of it, an inhalation that made the words sound broken and sad. "I got you into this. Made you into a killer, to protect us all."
The words were so odd that he stopped flying and turned to look at her, the craft just hanging in the air.
"Seriously? You're just worried that I'm a killer now? You know that I've done that before. Countess Alan? I thought that you were mad at me for taking those innocent people's lives. I'm... feeling that a lot more than I thought I would, but I couldn't think of anything else to do that wouldn't mess things up more. I suppose I could have taken them off to Vagus and left them, but I just realized that now." It would have seemed funny to him, before the changes that Tor had made. That had gotten in his way and kept him from thinking clearly, having these new feelings.
In a very real way, those people had probably died because of that. Him not being able to process things past the new worries that he suddenly had.
The actions were all his however, not his brother's. Blame had to go where it was due.
His wife sobbed again and then wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"No, I'm not mad. I would have killed them, eventually. I was kind of hoping that one of the Baron's men would do it for us. They couldn't be let go. It was too dangerous and would have blown our cover. It's something that I've had years to prepare for. Killing like that. You haven't. It wasn't fair of us to make you do that."
There was a moment when he nearly cried himself then. Not because of the deaths of the jailors, he was feeling that now, more strongly than he thought he would, or because of Nora, since she deserved to die. No, it was something else that he'd done and it hit him all at once, ripping through him so hard that he shook, his throat closing for a long time.
It was so bad that Trice actually moved in and held him, cradling him in her arms, like he was a small child that had skinned his knee or something. It hurt worse than that, the guilt of it all crushing him suddenly. Powerfully.
"I... I killed them. All of them. It's my fault."
His wife didn't deny it.
"I saw. It had to be done. I know it was hard."
"No, you don't understand. The healing amulets that Tor made? Everyone was supposed to have them, all the Counties. But I stole the ones that would have gone to the places with treasonous leaders. I did it. That means all those people that died, that was me. It's... hundreds of thousands of people at least, by now. Ones that might have lived if it wasn't for me. I didn't just kill a few people. I killed all of them."
"Oh. I... I'd heard something like that."
Finally she pulled on him, and they changed seats, so that she could get them back home. She didn't push things, and he didn't let tears fall. In a weird way, he just couldn't. The guilt ate at him and didn't stop, but it wouldn't come out at all. It locked inside of him, folding in and became worse with each mile that passed beneath them. F
inally they were able to set down behind the new house.
"We'll need to talk to Uncle Richard about this. Does he know, about the amulets?"
"Oh, yes. Tor knows too. And Petra. Along with about five hundred soldiers... it isn't a secret, it just didn't bother me before. Not that much. Damn Tor! Why couldn't he have left me alone? Why did he do this to me?" Timon knew why though, didn't he? It probably had to do with him taking those healing units in the first place.
Trice got up and started to walk away, not answering him. It made some sense. She loved Tor after all. Not him, marriage aside. That wasn't to be expected. He managed to follow and got inside without cursing anyone or making a scene even if there was no one in the night to hear them. Not out where they were.
Inside she turned, looking miserable and closed-off again, holding her arms across her chest.
"I'm going to bed. We can deal with this in the morning? Unless you need me now, I mean." It sounded weak and like she really wanted him to leave her alone. So he let her go, walking up the stairs with her and taking a room down the hallway.
It took some time to arrange it the way he wanted, not really caring at first, but after a nice bed was set up and a tub and shower in the next room, along with a separate restroom, he took a long hot soak and then got into bed himself. Tim felt tired. A bone weary thing that was beyond simply having been up too long. Sleep didn't come, his mind filling with the dead, thinking about all the little kids that he'd choked to death with the Gray plague. Then, once he finally cleared his head of that, he spent time with the three he'd killed earlier that evening.
Timon didn't even know any of their names. Somehow that made it all seem worse. At least when Nora had died there had been a good, and personal, reason for it. The three he'd executed hadn't harmed him or any of his friends, it was just easier to take their lives than it was to risk letting them go.
When he drifted off, which happened several times, he woke covered in sweat and screaming, or at least calling out. It left him feeling scared and weak, but at least Trice didn't come to see what was wrong. That probably had more to do with the fact that the walls stopped sound, more than her hating him for what he'd done. Who he was.
The dawn was late. That had to do with the fact that all his windows pointed west, and the city wall was far enough away that the reflected light from it wasn't a big issue. Getting up he made himself shower, and then went to see about making some food. They still had supplies in the new craft, so he was able to make some pancakes and eggs for them. He even had warm honey to go with it. When Trice finally came down the stairs he expected her to be like she was before, but she smiled and walked quickly across the room, kissing him on the lips lightly.
"Good morning! You made food? My favorite. Are we eating in the dining room?" There was a slightly hurried, almost manic sense to the words, her face extra bright and cheery too, as if trying to ignore the murder that had taken place just a few hours before, really hard. It was better than yelling or crying, so he nodded.
"That's what the room is for. I'll get it set up."
It took a bit, but it had been put not too far from the kitchen, for ease of use and while too big for the two of them, the table could only sit about twenty. The space was big, but not cavernous. They could change that if they ever had a major party, so it made sense not to waste the space now. In all, the house was big enough for about fifty people to live there, which meant they'd need to hire some people, no doubt.
"Hey... getting house servants, that's your job isn't it?" Timon passed the bowl of scrambled eggs to her, smiling as he did it.
"In general, yes. I have a real job too, but I think I can manage that. If not I'll get Aunt Connie to help. She's really good at that kind of thing. Collette isn't bad either, but if you can get the Queen on your side, you get a better quality of spy for your coin."
They ate for a bit, the only sound being the tap of silver against ceramic. They had juice to go with it, but it was a simple meal. Good enough for him, but not company. He realized that when the front bell rang just as they were finishing. Timon didn't know who to expect at all, but figured that it would be a salesman, or someone looking for work. Possible an industrious thief or bandit, come to see if they had guards ready to protect them.
When he pulled the front door open, it wasn't either of those things.
No, it was Tor.
"Timon! I was told I could find you here. I just wanted to apologize for not being a bit warmer at the wedding. It took me a bit by surprise, and I'm afraid I didn't act very mature about it all. I got Sherri Bonner to watch the shop for me so I could come down. Brought those new space craft you wanted?" He held out a small box, one that was made of black focus stone and had simple geometric carvings on the side. It was well done. It also felt heavy when it was handed off. Like a brick or stone.
"Oh, good. I'll see that the needed people get them. Count Peterson, Judith Press and Aunt Orange." He moved to let his older brother in and noted that he was taller now, even more than a few days before. Not vastly so, but he was pushing five-nine at least. He looked young, like a noble fourteen year old, rather than a commoner of the same age, but he was dressed in a rather plain brown canvas outfit that would have been perfect to go off to school in.
As soon as the door shut, Timon reached out with his intent and held his brother's shield off, then hit him in the back of the head with the box. It made a rather satisfying hollow thunk. He didn't press the attack, since that would be overkill. His brother was already laying on the floor after all.
"You made changes to me Tor. So that I'd feel guilty for things. Did you remember that I'd just been tortured a few months ago? Or that I held back those healing amulets for all those people? I had to kill three people last night... Or really, I didn't have to, I just couldn't come up with anything else to do, distracted by these new feelings. They might have lived, if you'd just left me alone and not forced your will on me." Timon didn't move toward him at all, just waiting for his brother to start moving again. His head was bleeding on the back and it was bad enough that it was leaving a small puddle of red on the floor.
After a while he groaned, an inarticulate thing that sounded pained. That was nice to hear, Timon realized, since he hadn't been certain that anything would ever get through to his brother without negative stimuli to back it up.
"Wha' the he' S'Timon!" It was said first in home tongue, then Noram standard when Trice came in and squeaked, but held her ground, not running at the downed man with a healing amulet or anything.
Timon smiled at her, not really feeling anything at all at the moment. Not even anger.
"I was just asking Tor about his bit of unauthorized manipulation of my pattern and mentioned some of what happened. Do you think I should mention the part about it being a bit like another kind of rape now? Or would that be too much?"
It was tempting to hit him again, but it made more sense to wait. Starting a fight with Tor wouldn't end well, for Timon, and he knew it. If he wanted to do something like that he should have followed up with some serious damage in the moments after the first blow had landed.
His wife just looked conflicted then. Like she wanted to help Tor, but knew that her loyalty was supposed to be to him now. It was more than Timon had thought would happen that way. By a good bit.
That meant it took a while for Tor to sit up, and when he did he held his head, the bleeding finally slowing a bit.
"Damn it, Tim. That hurt."
There was no apologizing, not for what he'd actually done.
Timon sighed and hefted the heavy box again. The corners were rounded, so that meant he'd hit his brother really hard, in order to tear the skin open.
"I don't suppose you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Yeah, I do. I had to try and fix you. If I didn't you'd have become worse over time. You might still, but once the full effects of the new pattern take, you'll be able to really feel, like a regular person. It will help you."
"
Help me? I feel horrible, I told you that I didn't want this, what the heck do you think you're doing? Are you trying to get me to kill myself or something?"
The whole thing would have had more impact, with a bit of extra percussion, but Tor actually looked guilty enough to almost make it worth holding back, just to see the expression on his face.
"I... Look, Timon, I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that Doris had created you and Tiera to be ultimately violent, in case it was needed, to fix what's wrong in Noram. It isn't your fault, but you shouldn't have been made that way. I know it's hard for you right now, but it was the only way I could get you a real chance at survival. I tried to ask, but you weren't interested and I didn't feel like I had time to talk you around to my way of thinking on it. In this case I'm right and you simply aren't capable of seeing it that way. So I cheated and changed you while you slept."
Which explained it, sort of, but didn't actually do anything about it.
"Well, you did it wrong. It's horrible and I need you to change me back. Just as soon as you heal up. Do you remember what to do? How long will it take?"
"Timon... I can't. You have to understand that I did this not just for your own good, but for the rest of the world as well. Otherwise too many would have ended up dead."
"Ah, you mean you won't undo the harm you've done, because you have some kind of mental handicap that makes it so you can't see it as damage? That isn't a good enough answer. You messed up and you have to fix it. Now. This isn't debate. If you don't fix it, return me to normal, right now..." It was the kind of thing that people said when they wanted to get their way, but for once Tor shook his head.
Totally ignoring what he was trying to get him to do.
"No. I told you, Doris made you to be something that the world can't handle. She didn't think that I could do the job, being too nice and too much like Green. I have a plan. I'm changing myself, you and Tiera, so that we can get Noram out of this mess in time. I need your help, but you have to be a real person. If you kept on like you were, then, sooner or later, you'd have become something evil, just because you didn't care what happened to people. I don't know if I can explain it any more clearly to you. It probably won't be a comfortable thing for you, for a while, getting used to things, but it's..."
