by P. S. Power
“Count Ward… did you at any time order the death of any person.” Tor felt excited when the man simply said yes, but all of those people were criminals and pretty bad ones by the sound of it. They didn't generally kill over theft here, just used people as free labor until the dept was repaid. When the question was changed to ordering the specific poisoned royals to be killed, harmed or threatened, he said no confidently, but a black slash streaked across the gold and cream glow of the giant man.
It took a while to get it out of him, but he'd once ordered Count Derring threatened, with cause. It was years before and nothing came of it. He also hadn't gone after any Noram generals. When the question turned to Tor things changed. He didn't lie overtly, but he hedged several times, getting black streaks, if small ones. Smythe, for his part, was relentless.
“Tell me now, what are you hiding? Don't bother lying about it, that will just waste time.” The brown eyes stared at the larger man, pinning him without offering hostility.
“Alright… I didn't order it, not exactly, but I may have hinted that Tor should be taken care of after his intervention in the Ursala Thorgood matter. I was… angry. It was silly of me, but I felt embarrassed that such a tiny man could best me so easily in a fight. He didn't even have the grace to strike me down, just stood and let me exhaust myself as if I were a small child having a tantrum. I realized later that I was being a large child having a tantrum, but I was upset for a while.”
No flickers came then at all.
Each line of discussion went back to Laval, the strange black eyed man that had come with treats and gifts, flatteries and plans to help the Wards advance their status in the world. The man even hinted that Ward could be delivered the kingdom, though neither of them ever took that seriously.
“It was fun to dream though, wasn't it?” The Countess breathed gently.
Tor blinked.
It probably was at that, as long as you never had to actually do the job. Nothing the royal family had couldn't be bought with gold really, and they all worked hard, if in odd ways. Richard was always tired looking and Connie had to put up with some of the most annoying people in the kingdom with a smile… which included Tor on his off days. Not a job he'd ever want. Tor considered that for a moment and wondered how, being a Count and Countess, these two hadn't known that instinctively. Then maybe they really had on some level? Neither had triedfor the position, just dreamed about it. Probably only the fun parts too.
Maria's story of Laval was different, but she told it with a straight face unconcerned that her husband sat right next to her listening. They held hands to comfort each other even. It was a bizarre relationship to Tor, but if it worked for them, who was he to judge? Maybe he should take notes instead of acting like mayor Tom was going to walk up and start scolding people? Maria was his age and had been happily married for years, where he'd been alone and lonely most of that time. Maybe his way wasn't working?
“Oh yes, we were lovers almost from the start. He asked if we could be and I saw no harm in it, he had those lovely eyes after all, and was good enough looking. In bed he was… charming. Skilled, certainly, but the flattery he used was so over the top… but it always felt like he meant it. He called me his little kitten-flower, and smothered me with kisses. Then we'd talk for hours, mainly about my life, growing up, the people I knew. He never said much about himself, just that he wanted to know more about me. It was… flattering.” The Countess went on for a while about what they spoke of, most of it innocent really, what foods were in season and what music they liked.
And Tor.
“Oh, yes, he was obsessed with him. Even before we knew he was “the Tor”. When he was just some boy from school that had tried to give me flowers that were too grand for a student to purchase, making me think that the Prince had put him up to it. How I hurt so much over it, and how I couldn't do anything to hurt Alphonse back at all. So he said he'd look into it and came back telling me how the best way to get at Alphonse indirectly was to strike at those close to him. Get the girls pregnant and kill his best friend in the whole world. Torrance Baker. He had this powder that he claimed would remove most kinds of birth control, so that part was easy. Marvin just had to put it on his lips and then kiss the girl. If she slept with anyone for weeks after she just wouldn't have protection at all.”
It was consistent and her story stayed so as she spoke the whole time, pointing at Laval pretty clearly. He was distinctive sounding. Except that Tor had seen six of the man once, and heard there was a seventh he'd just missed noticing, being busy at the time.
Clones. Some magic that made exact duplicates? Tor hadn't been clear on that when his grandfather tried to explain it. Burks claimed it wasn't magic, but what else could do that? The cream and goldenrod aura stayed that way until Maria described her apology to Tor.
“I really meant it.” She said simply, but the whole field went jet black. Sighing she explained without needing to be told too. At least the learning curve on these particular devices was quick.
“I wanted to mean it. I do know I was wrong, treating him so poorly and then lying about him to make trouble. It was evil of me, and I deserve to be punished, but, each time I think about it, I come back to that flower arrangement.” The light stayed clear and bright as she said all this, not even a flicker.
“It must have cost in golds. No one of his station could have afforded something like that. Not the station I thought he was at the time at least. It had to be sent for from the Capital, maybe even had the Queen’s own lady brought to town to do it herself! The base glistened like gold, covered in silk, a woven basket of it the like of which I've never seen since, and I've looked, the flowers perfect and tied with wound stems instead of string, so that it wouldn't show… And it was huge, it must have fifty different kinds of wildflower in it, with dried flowers and herbs to scent it. It smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, just enough to tell it was there. Given where we were, I knew instantly it was a brush off from the Prince, sending in a pretty distraction. I thought he loved me. He'd said so.”
Well, she believed it all and nothing hinted at a lie. Rolph was a cad. Well, he'd be hearing about this.
Tor grimaced.
“Let it be known that the statement isn't a lie.” Tor announced to the communications device, a small murmur coming from the other end, mainly female sounds of questioning, Tor thought.
Smythe looked at him and asked if Tor would clarify where the flower arrangement had come from. It didn't seem relevant to him, but he shrugged and picked up a truth medallion himself. If other people had to, so should he, right? Smythe raised his eyebrows, but nodded as if it were only proper.
“Um, well. I made it.” Maria looked shocked, and watched him closely. After about five seconds she seemed frightened, as the light didn't change.
“The gold ribbon was some stuff that Rolph, um Alphonse Cordes, had from a present his mother had sent him, part of the wrapping, he let me have it, since he was just going to toss it out anyway. So I spent a few weeks in the basket shop in town in my free time, trying to figure out how it could be done. That one was the fourth attempt. I'd seen Maria in class and hadn't had the nerve to talk to her at that point, so I had time. I still had a very strong accent then and figured a bumpkin shouldn't approach a fine lady like her, but… Alphonse said that if I liked a girl, I wouldn't profit by not telling her either, so I worked on it while I got up my courage and learned to speak properly. I'd never asked a girl on a date before.” Everyone watched him, waiting for more so he continued.
“I'd picked some of the flowers early and dried them in my dorm room, hanging up, because I was told that the good arrangements had them. I found some wild herbs in the woods, but they didn't keep their scent well, so I spent most of my money on a tiny vial of cinnamon, and when I told the lady at the store my plan she let me have a vial of vanilla too, in return for sweeping and scrubbing her store twice a day for two weeks. Then I collected most the fresh flowers that day, since I was off classes any
way and put it all together. That's all.”
It was what had happened, so nothing flickered. It had been silly of him, of course. He should have known before he walked up to her that he wasn't enough, that she was too good for someone like him. Then she didn't just refuse him, she made sure he knew all the reasons why he was bad and no one would ever love him. It kind of made sense at the time. Tor wasn't good enough, his stupid flowers weren't good enough, and he should die.
He'd felt like doing just for a long time. It was part of the case, so he spoke all of it out loud, trying to keep his voice clear and crisp. People would need to know he wasn’t lying about anything after all. Even if it hurt to say. It came out a little coldly. To his ears at least.
No one bothered to look at him when he was done, ignoring his own discomfort, or possibly just not wanting to be asked if they thought it was how things really were and have to lie to comfort him like people sometimes did out of friendship or common courtesy. Trice didn't even bother with one of her mock glares. She just looked at Maria.
Putting down the amulet and turning it off, his light went out.
There was sobbing, gentle but loud enough to hear, coming over the communications device. What that was about Tor didn't really know. It sounded like more than one person. Varley and Connie? Too hard to tell for certain.
Smythe gave him a moment to make sure he wasn't going to lose it and cry himself, but that wouldn't happen, he'd live it for years, he was ready right then to keep going he assured them all, his voice no more than a little flat and cold. Maria, coached by Smythe kept on with her tale from that point.
“So I took the flowers, too… um… rich for an obviously poor boy and threw them at him, then I called him every name I could think of. In rage, but..”
Laval it turned out was fascinated with that event, talking about it often, painting Tor as the true villain of the story, possibly influencing the Prince against her, so that he could capture her heart for himself, but when that failed, he lay in wait, plotting against her. Tor listened but almost laughed. Him? Plot? What could he have plotted. More… why?
Ellen Ward finally looked at him and nodded slowly, telling him something with her eyes he didn't understand. Oh, well, old issues being brought up or not, he was here to work, to stop a war and find the truth. They looked pretty innocent so far. The grilling got more intense for the next hour, with broader questions being asked. It turned out that Martya was a spy, placed by the Wards to watch him and get secrets out of him that might help them in their case. Or had been one.
“That lasted all of a day though. The next evening she came and gave my money back, ten gold solid, and told me she wasn't whoring for anyone anymore and that I could shove my gold up my behind. Actually she said ass.” The large Count said it with a smile and head shake. “It's that ice business of hers. She makes three times that on a slow day and that's just her share. I'd have moved her off the lawn for spite, but her business is a public service, isn't it? It would cheat my people to send her off to a less easily reached location. Besides, it's a handy thing to have close.” The large Count may have been thwarted, but he smiled about it, as if it were a grand joke. Or maybe that he was proud of a girl that he'd seen around most of her life rising in the world?
Then, they'd probably been lovers at some point too. It could have been something more than simple pride. Tor didn't check. It wasn't his business to know all about everyone around him. It felt like cheating somehow. Dirty.
Then everyone else was questioned about their involvement, just as hard, the servants asked mainly about Laval, after clearing themselves. They all had bits of information to share, things the man had said to them, what he liked to eat and who they'd seen him with. Ellen cleared her name in minutes, simply starting a litany that covered all questions asked before. Smythe smiled and gave her a seated bow, declaring her no longer a suspect without asking a single additional question. Not that Tor had doubted that for a second. Really, he hadn't even considered it a possibility. Probably why Smythe was in charge.
Trice…
Her story was different than any Tor had ever heard. She was, off and on, Maria's girlfriend, not just lover and had been involved, briefly, with the Count, but focused a lot more on the Countess. No one cared, not any of the royals. A spike of envy washed through Tor when he heard. But she wasn't his and hadn't ever really been, had she? His jealousy was irrelevant anyway, so he tried to let it go. Laval, however, had paid a lot of attention to her for a long while.
“He played me like a violin. I thought he was trying to get information about the Wards, or maybe for them, but now… yes, it always did come back to Tor. It was like…” Her eyes went blank as she sat still suddenly, a memory trance.
Smythe started to ask her to continue, but Tor held out a hand and shook his head a little. The older man tilted his head, but she didn't take twenty minutes or anything thankfully.
“He kept talking about him in terms of the unknown and the unknowable. He never really explained what it meant. It was a real thing to him though. I'd kind of figured he was obsessed with Maria, so wanted to do things to get her attention when I figured out the Tor part, but with all of them at Queen’s day…”
Yeah, that was kind of telling. The Wards didn't have that kind of clout. No one did, except the Austrans. Even the King of Noram couldn't bring seven identical assassins into play. But why would an Austran agent want to hurt or kill Tor overly? He wasn't a threat to them, not personally. Heck if there was no war, Tor wouldn't even know that the place existed hardly. Especially back then. He would have been a schoolboy. He'd still be one, maybe. Then, he hadn't left school over that, he gone away because of Trice. Still those things were related. What would have really happened if he'd never been poisoned?
She talked for a while, until things started going black with almost every statement. The field wouldn't allow it.
Heh. Right. Spy.
The King ordered the room cleared, claiming that this may be concerning things that verged on sensitive royal family matters. The room was emptied, except for Smythe, Trice, and one very confused little builder. Why hadn't he been kicked out?
“Answer honestly now Patricia.” The King told her, sounding amused.
“Uncle Richard, Tor is still here…” She was so uncertain she shook. Or maybe it was fear?
The King asked if Tor had one of the silence bubbles, which he did, about a hundred of them in the case next to him against the wall. It wasn't the work one for the investigation, just the stuff to go to the merchants in Printer that carried his devices. Secrecy really hadn't seemed an issue for an investigation. Having them made him look prepared though, didn't it? Once he had it down on the central table the King started talking again as if certain it would work. It did, but it hadn't been a sure thing. Well it was private now, spies or not. Kind of.
“I know Patricia. Once builders reach a certain level, it becomes hard to keep things from them and generally a bad plan in this case. He's already figured out half the spy network and I'd guess the other half won't take him much longer to work out now that he knows it's a possibility. From now on well just send people with a letter I guess. “Dear Tor, We've sent this girl to spy one you, have fun, love Rich.” Think that will work? Plus, he keeps doing such surprising things with all the ones sent at him. They keep ending up wealthy and well positioned. At least half a dozen haven't lasted more than a month in his presence, going off to a new job and life so quickly some here have wondered if it was on purpose.” The voice sounded questing.
Instead of answering, Tor just spoke, keeping his voice bland.
“We were about to question the witness?”
The tale was twisted, involved him and a lot of things she'd said to other people, some of them she meant, some lies to get people to think she was on their side. It was why she'd baited him when they last met and why she had glared at him earlier, though Trice did say it hurt when he'd stormed away like he had, because she knew he didn't have t
he information to understand.
Tor shrugged.
“I was acting. I'd kind of figured out what you had to be doing. You're not that mopey by nature, and if you felt that bad for real it wouldn't have been an attack, but tears and asking me to fix it. That or just telling me too. You can be a little entitled, you know? Anyway, if I get the time, I think I'm ready to try, the first version at least.”
“A magic arm?” Her voice was so skeptical it made Tor blush a little.
“Yes,” he told her gently. It may not be much, but it would be at least a little better than a metal hook. Maybe. If they got lucky. There was laughter at this, from him, but not from her, she looked determined.
“OK. I'll give you a month, but it better be special, a hook that glows or sparkles at least.” Now her voice sounded playful again, which sounded a lot more like the real her.
He could do that. Make it glow on command, or sparkle. Check.
There was a lot of anger in her directed at him too, which kind of seemed wrong. She was being honest, but it hurt to hear some of the things she thought.
Why hadn't he saved her arm instead of letting Karina chop it off? She knew for a fact that he couldn't have, and that Tor didn't even know to try, but he'd stopped the death dust in the air, couldn't he have stopped it on her hand? Karina caught some flak too. Trice was afraid of her now. Having nightmares about her coming to kill her in the dark, or take the remaining limbs. Cold sweats and panic attacks when she had to be around her for too long. That got an honest if hung-over gasp from the Princess on the other end of the communication device.
Who wouldn't be scared though? He was a little afraid of Varley and all she'd done was try to make her breaking up with him not hurt so bad. At least he thought that was her reason for doing what she had in the palace hallway.
When Smythe was satisfied, which took about a half hour of Tor bashing, most of it a lot less reasonable than him failing to save her arm, including for some reason a list of his faults, some of which he always took for virtues, like being focused on the task at hand, or being generous. She kept talking until Smythe, looking sidelong at Tor’s discomfort stopped her.
