by P. S. Power
Heh.
He'd known she could do it.
The next morning, earlier than he felt comfortable with, Tor contacted the palace to make his requests. This kind of thing was so awkward and hard for him, asking for anything always was, but people needed help here and if he didn't get over his own fear and suggest it, then nothing would happen. It took ten minutes for the King to get to the communications device once the Royal Guard nearest it realized that it was glowing, a bright blue thing that was hard to miss, but someone still had to be in the room with it to see. When he spoke the King sounded tired, like they'd gotten him out of bed just to talk to him.
Gods. Making the man hop to his commands now? How embarrassing.
“Tor?” Voice croaking and slightly raspy, a soft clearing sound came before the King continued.
“How are things in Cannor? Do you need anything?” Straight to the point and matter of fact.
“Hi Rich. Um, actually I need the men from Wildlands Station to build about two thousand homes as fast as possible. I could also use some fruits and vegetables for the people here. I think they can trade fish for it. Is that all doable?” It wasn't fair to dump it all on the King, who sighed mightily and didn't speak for a moment.
“I think so. I can get the military out to do the building. Hate to lose them from their regular work and a few leave days will be lost, so we need some kind of extra reward for them. I'll leave that to you though. Less work for me. As to the food stuffs… Can I get back to you later today? You're not having to do inhuman amounts of building on your own again are you? People can do for themselves…”
This got a satisfied and slightly proud chuckle from Tor.
“I have help this time. Building students from school came with us and are working diligently to make sure everyone has what they need. My part is basically finished for now. Um, if you need to get in touch with them a… woman, a sixth year student, Sandra Morris, is in charge. She's working right now, magical housing, but I think she's on her last batch for the time being.”
Tor agreed to leave Sandra in charge of his communications plate as soon as she finished up, since she didn't have her own yet. No one really did. Maybe she could build her own system, copying the one already in use, or possibly improve his or make her own unique one? Tor took a minute after the King broke off communications to look in on Sam who was floundering a bit, his mind had drifted and the field he was building fading. It was also flawed.
Shrugging Tor sat next to him, dropped into state and corrected the errors, then nudged Sam while holding the pattern. The boy came to with a jolt and a jump.
“Huh?”
“Sam. Feel the new pattern and hold it. You have this. You can do it.” Then he let go, making the boy scramble and fight to keep his hold, feeling all of this in the boys mind. He did it though.
The others had their copy work well in hand and had managed to get faster, spurred on by seeing what Sandra had learned to do, making groups of ten temperature plates every two or three hours. Guide was the slowest, but his work was very good and solid. Lyn was faster but a little sloppy. He gently pointed that out to her and got her to feel the difference. She looked down as if ashamed for a minute, so Tor gave her a pat on the back.
“Don't let it worry you, you know what to do, just increase the clarity of the field as you're working. You can do it. Now go, people are going to need these.” It could be hard to find out you needed to fix something, but it was always better to just do it and go on, than dwell on hurt feelings or embarrassment.
The idea made Tor want to laugh, but he held it in. For instance he was just so good at doing that wasn't he? Embarrassment had led half his life already practically.
With that done and feeling a lot more proud of “his” fellow builders than he actually had a right too, Tor went back to the dining facility and started washing dishes. The water was hot and someone had provided strong dish soap for them to use and natural sea sponges to scrub with.
The girl in charge was shocked when he came back and just started in with her, not asking what to do. He knew how to wash dishes after all and the set up was pretty standard. Take the bowls and dump any fish stew that was left, rinse under the warm running water, then scrub in the hot sink, rinse again and set to dry on the rack. After a second Tor set up a warm air blower, like what the magical houses used to dry you after a shower. It sped that part up a lot.
The young woman, Merilee, was amazed by it.
“How did you do that? You changed the building by touching the wall?”
“Oh, right, um, just touch the part you want to change and imagine what you want, as clearly as possible. It will probably come out a little differently than you think, but it works well enough.” He kept working as he said it, not wanting to look lazy.
The girl, who was an adult woman actually, in her early twenties, chatted the whole time they worked, a pleasant sound, a little high pitched and falsely happy, but given the situation fake cheerful beat the heck out of morose. They worked side by side and she kept “accidentally” bumping into him, even though she was working halfway across the decent sized space for most of it. Everything in the room looked like stone, except them and the bowls, the fake stone gray and uniform, slightly rounded under foot, but not sticking up enough to make them trip. Well not him at least. She kept falling against him, sometimes using him to catch her weight altogether.
“Sorry,” she said after the tenth time. “Must be tired.”
When the dishes were caught up they both sat at the tables for a while, listening to the kitchen people talk. The old woman was angry, because people had been complaining about the lack of bread.
“They think we have starter sitting in the back? Or even leavening left? We have flour and salt. I should take it and feed a bowl to the next person that asks!”
Tor thought for a second.
“Is there any oil? For cooking I mean? Lard or butter, anything really.” His head tilted in thought as the old women stopped in her angry diatribe and stared at him, but not too crossly, which was good. Tor didn’t want to make her angry. Angrier. She was pretty sore already about people pestering her about the food.
“Aye… what of it?”
“Oil crackers.” Tor nodded to himself as he thought about it.
It was about the simplest thing to make that came near being bread, crispy and filling because of the oil, and rich enough people wouldn't complain overly, he thought. He had to run and make a dozen trays from focus stone, a rich black here, darker than the plates, but then it was easy enough. After the first two batches the old women took over the making herself.
“Good thinking boy. I'll make sure to save you some for your supper.” She grinned at him and sent him back to washing dishes, being groped more openly now by the girl working there. Finally, after the first hour of continuing fake falls and laughter Tor just told her to do what she wanted to him, as long as they kept working. Even he could get that she was lonely and looking for attention.
She was cute enough and really, the fake falling thing was getting a little thin as an excuse. For a while the falling stopped and she didn't touch him at all, though she did keep chattering about her life. Just before it was their turn to eat, she pushed him towards the back of the room, out of sight and felt between his legs boldly, which was a bit more direct than he'd expected.
“Oh!” She told him, rubbing enough that he responded instantly under her hand. “That's nice. Would you like too… you know? Later?”
The idea didn't thrill him even as her hand kept working the front of his trousers. It wasn't her, she seemed nice and was certainly friendly enough. It was just that he was busy.
Really though, was that true? He'd spent the afternoon helping to wash dishes and bake crackers. Worthy work, but not something he couldn't take a short break from. Plus, really, she seemed to like the idea pretty well. It was a bit hard to think of why she’d feel that way, but Ali wouldn’t mind, he didn’t think.
“That sounds fun.” He said happily. Why not? Ali really wouldn't mind, in fact she'd probably encourage it. He did need to make sure that the girl realized he was married and lived all the way across the country first, since she was way too short to be a noble herself, most likely at least. Her rules might make it impossible. If it worked for her though, he could go with it. At least he wouldn't get her pregnant.
It turned out she was fine with all of it, especially once she found out that Ali followed the noble rules, meaning there wouldn't be any trouble for her later over it and it only took about half an hour, since she was eager, if not overly skilled. She wasn't married herself, and didn't plan on it, so felt free to do as she pleased. Normally she made her way doing odds and ends, making baskets mostly, but also taking in sewing work and doing the odd turn as a shop girl in town. It was an unusual life, but it made her happy.
“Plus it means that if I find a pretty thing like you to play with, I can and no ones to say otherwise but the frigid busy body squad. You know, the old ladies that don't have much use for sex, couldn't get wet in a rainstorm, and feel that if they don't like it no one should? Maybe we can do it again before you leave? You're very good at it.” She actually sighed happily and kissed him again.
Tor blushed. That whole being good looking thing was so hard to accept. It just didn't seem real to him at all. Burks had said that it probably never would really, but that he needed to except it or at least that others would treat him that way.
That night he actually got to bed at a reasonable hour and woke up half buried in a group of people, arms and legs thrown over him haphazardly. Ali had climbed in next to him, and they were face to face when he woke. She was being cuddled from behind by Sara and of all people Ridley was at his back, petting his backside gently in a half sleep state.
Pervert, Tor thought automatically, then quelled the noise in his head. That part of the noble society, what some of the men did together, was off putting and a little scary to him, but in their world it wasn't wrong. It just wasn’t what Tor really wanted to do personally. Still, he playfully elbowed the other boy in the sternum, hard enough that his shield turned on. So, maybe a little harder than was strictly playful? The guy didn't wake at all.
Tor was too tired to get up and just tried to relax. It wasn't like he was going to be screwed up the behind by the guy in his sleep. Not with his shield activated at least. That wouldn't work at all and he was pretty sure that his own shield would turn on if it was tried. His own deep mind would view it as an attack, no doubt.
A few hours later everyone else was getting up and Sandra, eyes wide and a little scared looking came over holding the communications device out in front of her at full arms length as if it would bite. She waved to him, shaking slightly and panicked, trying to get him to come over.
She hissed at him softly, “It's the King and Queen! They want to talk to you, here!” She nearly threw the device at him, and then tried to walk away, but he took her arm gently to stop her.
“Builders Tor and Sandra at your service, what can we do for you today?” It was nearly glib and got a laugh from both the monarchs.
The King didn't waste time after that however.
“First, the men you requested are incoming as we speak and should be there inside six hours. Three hundred with full gear. Second, Counts Ross and Ford both have food for you, grain and vegetables, dried, but healthy enough. I said they could sell them at going market rate? They wanted to give it to you free, of course, but that tends to hurt the economy. They've agreed to trade for fish if the locals agree. I'll get with Countess Cannor on that though, not your worry. Do you need anything?”
Did he?
“Well, if you could have someone package up a jar of yeast starter from the palace kitchens? We have flour here, but no bread without yeast, all that got lost in the flood.” More to the point it had died because it starved in the floods, no one being able to bother feeding their home portions for nearly a week. The King didn't care about that part though, so Tor just shorthanded it.
The Queen’s voice came over the device clearly and sounded warm and friendly. Tor melted a little to hear it, but tried not to let it show.
“I'll see to it at once Tor.” Her voice sounded warm, like velvet. Soft and like he could wrap himself in it.
“Oh, and some sugar? I'll pay going rate for it, as much as possible on short notice.”
That got a laugh.
Tor blushed when Sandra looked at him with a wicked grin. It had to be some kind of noble code for something. Probably to do with him and the Queen. He didn't know, but he might have just offered to pay her for sex. At least they'd all laughed, probably getting the idea that Tor didn't mean it that way.
Richard spoke again his voice very calm and royal suddenly.
“That's all we have for you at the moment Tor. There's a situation developing I'd like to have you look into with Smythe, that may be a while though, but try to stay ready for it and Count Lairdgren has requested you attend him in Grenwyn two weeks before the date, no matter what. See to that, will you? Other than that, the rest of this communication is for Sandra Morris…”
Handing the device back, Tor went off to find some way to be marginally useful while things got into place. What he ended up doing was just handing off houses to the Cannor military people, some of them women he noted, and arranging for them to give them out at need. Then he went and started baking crackers. Bread would have to come later.
Every few hours he checked on Sam and his novel build, helping him with some gentle corrections a few times. In all the boy was doing a lot better than he would have done at that age, Tor thought. Not that anyone had let him try. The kid got fed crackers and water, not having much else and one small bowl of fish soup, but he’d gone decently deep. He still chewed and swallowed, but didn't shift much when fed. It was a little eerie, worse because he knew on a very real level that he looked exactly the same when working himself.
A little past noon the boy's eyes opened as Tor sat watching him, the build had probably been done for two hours, but it took practice to learn that kind of thing. Better to work a little long and be certain of it. Grinning Tor took the template and set it on the bed, giving the sigil a little tap when Sam signaled for him to do it.
The device looked like worn wood for the casing, with a brass funnel and two large stone wheels that turned in opposite directions. The other builders and Rolph all came over and started clapping, making the Printer boy duck his head bashfully.
“Master Tor helped, a lot really.” He said, pleased anyway.
Sticking out his tongue Tor made a raspberry sound.
“A bit, but the next one you'll get on your own. You've got what’s needed now. Bring me the plans for it when you’re ready. Within the month. Same for the rest of you. First years at least.” He waved at the older two gently. “You two already know this stuff, but let's collaborate on some things? In the Novel Building theory book it says that people can work together, but I've never tried it. Supposed to be faster and stronger though, which with all of us should be impressive, don't you think?”
They all worked then, as hard as could be managed, wearing down as the week progressed, the water receding and the food and shelter situation being repaired rapidly. Tor didn't have that much to do really, so mainly baked, washed dishes and helped build some structures with the pro's from the military. It was good to keep his hand in after all. Plus there was a simple beauty to making something out of focus stone, knowing that the work would last and last, even after the magic houses had all faded and gone away.
No one knew how long they'd last really. Tor had always figured a year or two for his fields, but even the earliest things he'd made were still around, so that was about four years now. Not bad. Some of the best built stuff lasted decades, but it took time to find that kind of thing out.
He made a point of apologizing to each of the men from the base he saw, but oddly no one made and issue of it or let him do more than b
ow about half way. They seemed pleased enough that he bothered to try though, at least they mainly smiled at him about it.
Slowly, over the course of a few days, people moved out of the safety of Canton and went home to rebuild themselves. They didn't have all their things, but the winter chill wouldn't kill them now and food was available. Tor made up a few extra fishing boats, a single batch of a hundred, and rented them out for half the catch. That way people could keep up a good level of trade with Ross and Ford.
Getting home was a pain, but they all made it and most of them even got to their classes the next day, even if they were dragging horribly the whole time. Guide came to him at lunch and passed him a build plan. The idea was novel, but simpler than Sam’s mill and would probably even work.
It was for a fake fire. It took heat from the ground, a bit shamelessly copied from Tor’s temperature plates, which the boy had copied hundreds of times, and made an illusion of fire that the heat came out of, and even a few logs beneath it for decoration. It was Guide's though, no one could doubt that. Tor had never thought of anything like it. A portable fire? Brilliant really. Who didn't like a nice cozy fire?
Tor moved the kid into his room for the work, because it wasn't that simple a thing and Guide wasn't fast at working, not yet. Tor even had to go to all the younger man's teachers and beg time for him to make the attempt, but after six days, he'd done it. No corrections from Tor even and the template was strong and clear, easy to copy. It was a bit of a struggle to keep up with his own work copying and doing some new building himself, while holding his schoolwork and marriage together at the same time as helping to care for Guide, but somehow he managed, if just barely.
Rolph hadn't complained or even questioned that a young boy was sitting cross legged on a small bed pad in their room for a week. The first day he'd looked at the boy strangely, but after that he did half the feeding and watering duties without even being asked. That was just the kind of guy Rolph was.
