by P. S. Power
That was kind of her.
When the people coming in lulled a bit Tor went and got four of the glowing equalizers, the same number of magical clothing devices and told them that they could have flying rigs and shields if they agreed to his terms. They agreed before he even said anything. He was tempted to throw a tongue bath in, whatever the heck that was, but his tongue felt pretty clean right now, so he skipped it.
“Pick your schedule, but a couple times a week walk around town in fancy costumes wearing the amulets, I don't know, glow, keep changing clothes, what have you, and tell people about this place. Better in the richer parts of town of course, the stuff isn't cheap… Each time someone tells us they came here because of you, if they buy something of value, so a magical device, not a hand pie, I'll give you a new something or other. Probably something random you don't want, and you'll have to share amongst yourselves, but not a horrible deal I don't think. Oh, also mention the new ice manufactory outside the south wall if people look hot. Other things might be added over time. Is that fair?”
They agreed seeming pleased enough, and said they'd come to visit at his house, regularly, to check on anything new he wanted them to do, which meant he needed to get some food in or something. Guests. Well, could be worse. How he didn't know, but the shop wasn't on fire when they left, so that was a plus.
The next few days went like that, with Debbie giving him half the gold at the end of each night, and, shield or not, getting him to walk her home at the end of the day. She didn't live far, but he could see the nerves, since she was carrying enough gold with her she couldn't physically lift it. That could be a tempting target.
Tor made her a special trunk amulet. The idea was simple enough and could be used for flying or walking. If you wanted to leave it in place you had to leave the amulet too, but the whole thing disappeared on command, meaning you could have a dozen of them with you at a time. It certainly made it easier to take stuff with you in an emergency. Plus you could pick the size you needed and even make them look any way you wanted, from simple flimsy fruit crate to solid gold casket.
Debbie invited him in a few times, but Tor always claimed he needed to do something else, sleep or work all night on one thing or another. It was true enough even, though part of it was that he didn’t want to take advantage of his business partner or ruin her reputation, having strange men in her place at night. Neighbors would talk, and while they might mean well, wagging tongues rarely improved things for anyone.
On the fourth day Debbie had a relative of hers in baking, a tall man that looked like one of his own brothers, but bigger. Debbie seemed happy enough about it, and told Tor that he wouldn’t need to stay. Not at all. Actually on that point her voice went a little cold.
It left him oddly adrift. He'd rebuilt the rivers for Afrak and the massive earth moving equipment they needed, but there was no way he could ditch the investigation long enough to go. It made him a little sad, because he really wanted to see the exotic foreign land.
Plus he was even the Ambassador, for now, at least.
It occurred to him that the King might have a plan, or be able to come up with something he just wouldn't think of, so Tor went to visit and as an aside, check to make certain his obligations to Smythe were being met. Well, as long as those duties didn’t involve him dying for no good reason.
That plan sounded simple, if nerve wracking, but he wasn't three feet into the complex before Varley met him and drug him inside to a little alcove where they'd kissed before a couple of times before. She grinned at him and motioned for him to drop his shield, which they had an agreement for, a kind of joke, where he let her kiss him when she wanted, if it was safe, as long as she wore her shield the rest of the time. When he did, she dropped to her knees, at first he thought she was going to apologize for getting pregnant, which really wasn't needed, since that had happened before the engagement. A bit bad to do it out of wedlock, but certainly he wasn’t owed anything over it.
That… wasn't her plan at all. Instead she started working on his trousers, loosening them, pushing him back towards the wall a little.
“Um, what are you doing? This is kind of public, you know?”
Varley didn't stop, but did giggle and keep working for a few seconds before speaking.
“We could go to my room if you want, but that's no more private. I can't go to your house, going twice this soon would look like a pattern, so it's here or in the middle of the hall. Take your pick.”
“What, no third choice, like, let's not?” He looked at her seriously and refastened his clothing. It wasn't that he didn't want to, god he was tempted. Her mouth looked so soft and inviting… But no. It would be too embarrassing by far and if someone accidentally caught them, a page or the King, what would they do then? Her hands became more insistent.
“Tor… I, I can't marry you. It's complicated… Let me do this, please?” She sounded sad for some reason, which made no sense, but Tor let her do it anyway, and then cuddled her as she cried softly after. Cradled against his chest. It had been fun, in a sexy, naughty way, but the tears just made him feel bad.
Wrong. Like he'd taken advantage of her.
He hadn't hurt her, Tor was experienced enough now to know that, thanks to the lessons Countess Thorgood, Ursala, had given him over the last several months. Sara Debri had taken her turns too, probably just so he'd like her enough to keep her around and let her spy on him. Honestly it was a good trade, but if he'd known at the time he would have bargained for more.
The rules were different, more gentle, for friends. He'd certainly been doing a lot more with Collette and Petra since he figured things out, not being mean or hurting them, but certainly trying some things that he hadn't believed were real when Ursala had told him about it.
He held and comforted her until she was ready to stop crying. Whatever she was mourning the loss of, it was important to her. Tor didn't fool himself into thinking it was him. In royal marriages there were rules, but those could be negotiable. Highly so, he was coming to learn. Still, it felt not just strange and evil, but dangerous to go from the girl directly to her father, but the palace wasn't a place for him to go poking around alone either. That was asking to get lost. Or suspected of being a spy.
Just to make things more awkward, Varley insisted on taking him, holding his hand the whole time as if afraid to let go. Like she might fall from the face of the planet if she did. So, feeling awkward he let her lead the way, wondering if the King would have a report on what his daughter had been doing already or not.
Smythe, conveniently enough, was talking to Richard when they came in. Well, as convenient as finding the person that possibly hates you the most of anyone in the world in a meeting with the one man that could, theoretically, order you to do anything. Really the idea didn't reassure Tor a lot once he thought about it.
“Take the boy back to Ward, then each of the event sights, as needed. Depositions, questioning all that. Can the lad take notes do you think or should we bring a scribe along?” Smythe had his back to the door and when checked didn't have a shield on. He didn't have any other fields on his person either, other than his own innate one at least.
Rich looked over the other mans shoulder, right at Tor, but with unfocused eyes, like he did in his memory trance. Tor had only seen it once on the man, but it was something a lot of the special school kids did, which might say something about the King’s early education. Eventually his eyes returned to the military Counselor.
“I'll assign a couple Royal Guards, a team of four, so that both of you will have a scribe that can handle a fight. I'd really rather you didn't try to use Tor as a servant William….”
“Think he'd kill me if I did?” The voice, that Tor had heard going smug and smarmy after his people had been thwarted in an assassination attempt was… just politely interested. For the world it sounded like the Counselor, for all he kept trying to kill based on fear, wasn't afraid for himself at all.
“God no. The thing is William, he
'd do it. You say, please help me scrub the toilet to humiliate him, and he won't just grab a brush, he'll work for days until he has a magical device to do it for you then, make a hundred copies for you to pass to your friends at need. It can be delicate, preventing that. Ask the wrong thing and he might work himself to death.”
Tor snorted derisively, loud enough to catch both men’s attention.
“I could make that in a day, or if you want a toilet that appears from nowhere at the tap of a sigil, in two hours, if you insist I make a new one. Otherwise I can send for one right now without doing any extra work. They have a little building that pops-up and everything, for privacy. Those are automatically self cleaning, so it's kind of worth it, but a regular toilet will still last longer in raw years, if you take good care of it and start with a good one. But… my hand writing isn't great. Kind of slow. Good enough for notes, but I wouldn't want to try interviewing someone with that being the only record…Oh!”
He wanted to slam himself in the head and would have but the shield would stop it anyway.
“How about a device that people can talk into that will repeat their words later? I already have that, I can extend the time and make it so that it will pick up anything in a given room, I think. Again, a few hours tops. Could that help at all?”
The older man chuckled easily, an almost friendly thing.
“Yes, and if you have a device that lets me talk across the kingdom to the other side, let me know. The biggest impediment to cases like this is the time factor in communications. More than once we've had investigations go sour because everyone died. Of old age. Enough of them to destroy our case at least.”
Tor pulled inside himself. He could produce sound, and if he sent the information from one place to another instead of holding it in potential, that would be a start. It would need some way to contact more than one point, if everyone was supposed to have one, it would be too hard to make direct contact with each one deployed…
“OK… by tomorrow?”
Everyone laughed, so Tor did too. After all, it was funny, he didn't even know how to make the selectors work. Ah! It jumped into his mind full blown. Make them all using a central device, then train all of the units to it, making physical contact the first time, then taking them to their final location, already linked. Give each place a sigil that would show on each speaking plate? Well… That would work.
Smythe wanted to get to work the next day, but also wanted to use carriages. Tor balked there. Transports would work as well, be hundreds of times faster and cost less. No horses to feed or broken wheels. Besides, he told the men, the longer this took, the greater the chance that something would go wrong and everything would end up in civil war again. Instead Tor suggested the King request a pilot and a transport for the people going to and fro with them.
As much as Tor hated carriages, Smythe didn't feel that a transport would give a proper feeling of authority. Tor offered to paint one to look like a carriage and even build a little cubical that would be stuffy and uncomfortable for the whole ride if the other man wanted, just to give the whole thing the proper feel. Yeah, he was being a little dickish about it, but the other man was too, so as a conversation it worked.
Though to his mind, the red-black of focus stone was intimidating and kind of grabbed attention. It could be made to look like almost anything, if he wanted though. It would take extra time, but would still be faster than going overland. Going by old style Not-flyer would be faster by far, or taking a boat. But that wouldn't get them to half the places they needed to go.
The debate continued for a bit. Smythe had flown and enjoyed it, and could still fly, but didn't want to, again the dignity thing, so it wasn't fear of being too high up, it really was just the looks of the thing? Tor focused trying to get a feel for the man, and found the real reason lurking inside him.
He was trying to draw things out, so that he could think up a way to get rid of Tor. Not kill, but send away, so he could work unimpeded. Tor blurted out that he'd never heard something so silly. Which got the older man to raise his eyebrows sharply.
“Look, I don't think the King is trying to say I should do your job, or interview people or anything like that even, he just wants us to get along. If you keep trying to get rid of me, he's going to lock us up in a little room together until one of us dies or we end up fast friends. Since, well, frankly we'd both get pretty ripe after a few days, can't we compromise on duties? I'll handle travel, communications and, I don't know, food, or… clothing. Whatever you think is fair. You do your investigation thing and I'll jump in if you tell me to and otherwise stay out of it? I know I don't have your skill or reputation in this. I'm not pretending I do. It would be ridiculous for one thing. You're not blind or sitting in a prison cell because of your skills… That isn't lost on me.” In fact it had been his idea, but Tor didn't point that out. No need to push the guy after all.
The King finally decided for them, they'd go in two days, by transport and if they didn't get along, he really would lock them in a little room together. The tone of his voice was serious but his mind blank, which meant he was really joking. If he was serious he'd have let his pattern show it, right? It made sense, but who knew with royals. Maybe he'd just try to go blank when Tor was around from now on? Tor tried it just to see what it was like.
It was pretty normal feeling to him, but then he spent a lot of time that way, didn't he?
Heading home, Tor wondered how he'd come to this pass.
First he made an enemy of a powerful and well connected man somehow. The devices he'd used to try and kill Tor showed that, if the high title and rank wasn't enough. Now he had to basically live with the same man for the duration? Whee. It seriously wasn't fair that Tor had to put up with an individual that had tried to kill him, twice. No normal person had to put up with this, did they? No, the bad guy was just put to death and everyone went on with their life a little better for it.
Except that sometimes people lied. And sometimes they thought they told the truth but didn't remember things correctly. Could he build a device to show that? It would… be halfway easy, he realized, blinking. He already knew how, and had done parts of it with the King himself. The emotion sensing amulets worked on a similar feedback idea even.
The next two days involved work for him, no matter what Smythe of freaking Westend was up to, which given their history probably included buying up and testing magics to kill Tor with.
Constant and unending work, but he managed a full ten hours sleep before he had to go to the palace complex, well nine of sleep and an early morning hour of cuddling with Petra.
That was nice, cozy even, but Tor kept wondering if she meant it. Was she just spying on him for her family and using sex or pretended affection to get close to him? Sure, he could have checked on what her field said about it, but Tor wasn't sure he wanted to know. He liked her. If she didn't feel the same way, it would hurt. But not knowing was hard too and caused him to pull away, keeping his distance emotionally. Could she tell that yet? Probably not, all the work he'd been doing would make him seem a bit slow and at a remove for a while, since he'd been so deep the whole time. That would mask things a bit.
Three novel builds in two days.
Tor had to feel a little proud of that. Well, at least if they all worked. He had to test things first, but the devices all felt right at least. That was a good sign. It meant he was starting to get a real feel for things, maybe at least. Unless he was delusional. Tor smiled and shook his head, because he was far from the point where at least some testing would be needed each time he made something, wasn't he?
Tor went to the palace early, the morning light still just coming out of false dawn, people on the street, but only sporadically yet. Mainly tradesmen and people sweeping their walks while it was still cool enough to not be a horrid experience. He stopped at Debbie's to drop off a few devices for sale, which she thanked him for, coolly, as if he'd done something wrong.
Another thing? He didn't have enough to
deal with already? Still, as a friend he had to get to the bottom of this if he could.
Smiling a little weakly Tor asked her to explain, and not play games with it, since he had to leave the Capital inside a few hours. It sounded a little rough, but he wasn't trying to be mean, just get past the normal three weeks it took for women to explain why they were mad at him. She actually started on the whole “you know what you did” thing but he stopped her.
“Debbie… let's skip this part and just pretend that we went through the weeks of you saying I knew what I did, with me walking around pulling my hair out trying to think of what that could be. I haven't stinted you on money, and yeah, I gave some devices away, but trust me those girls wouldn't have been buying anyway and may get the word out…” He threw his hands up with a little, worried, smile.
Then she told him, bitterly, that it was nothing.
“Oh, forgot that part, OK, so now, moving past that, me going on about how it obviously is something, you claiming it isn't for days and we get to the real reason which is…”
She laughed at least, which was better than crying or hitting would have been.
“Well, I… I made clear overtures to you, inviting you in after work, suggesting we go out to eat and you keep turning me down! I'm not ugly, am I? Or unpleasant some way? I-” Now she started to tear up.
Oh… that. Well, he really should have known, but being a moron, what could be expected of him really?
“Debbie… well, it's not fair to you, but it comes down to this; you look too much like my older sister. Taller, but if we dressed you the same, at a distance people would be fooled. So really, I can't do that. It's nothing wrong with you, you're very good looking, so is Tamerlane, both great looking actually, but you can see that right? How it might be off-putting to me?”
It ended about then, with her clearly not believing that was his real issue, but apparently seeing it as a good excuse for all that, as if he were putting her off for some other reason. What that could be he just didn't know. He'd really told her his actual reason. Then she loaded him with a small trunk field loaded with gold for his trip. It wasn't his share of the last day’s proceeds, it was just so that he'd have money to invest as he traveled. He'd gotten her doing the same, helping out vendors, working on projects to help employ the cities poor and things like that.
