The Dark Half of the Sun (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  He looked at her for a few moments, until she glanced away. A few seconds later she looked back, clearly thinking he was flirting with her. He smiled, trying for charming then.

  "Would you like to go with me? If they let me go I mean. It makes sense that they'll at least make the effort, since I'm the one getting them from Vagus for it. I don't have an invitation, but I think I can swing it. If not I'll take you to Austra and introduce you to Brown... If he doesn't come for the wedding. Honestly I should see if he needs an invitation too. If nothing else you could go as his date." That was actually a good idea. Denno could just de-age himself a few years and it would look about right. Sheri wasn't that old at all, but it would work.

  Now all he had to do was find Marco Sorvee, so he could stand for his cousin. How he was supposed to do that, he had no clue, but he'd figure it out. The man was a musician, it wouldn't be like he was in hiding or anything.

  Tim gave Ali a familial hug and bowed to the other two women, since he wasn't trying to confuse any issues for them. Sheri seemed like a nice girl though, and Sandra would have been straight up marriage material if he was even a few years older.

  He left from in front of the place, hurrying, since he was running out of time to get everything done. Duchess Keene came first, since her place was on the way. It was different, trying to find it in the light, but it was dim enough that they had the markers he'd used before already going, it wouldn't take long to make the delivery, he didn't think.

  Being cautious, Timon took the craft down and slipped the amulet under his shirt, even if it was in a walled courtyard. He was capable of learning, it seemed. With his shield on, it was pretty safe after all, as long as he didn't leave it out where someone could make a grab for it. Losing things like that could cost him his business after all.

  It was pretty clear he needed to figure out how to copy the things soon, even if no one else could do it yet. There had to be a trick to it, since Tor had made them in the first place. Otherwise a few thefts or things being lost in the wash and the whole concern would go under. If he ever got a chance to talk to Tor he'd have to ask if he had any ideas about it all. Maybe there was a trick to it that no one knew yet?

  He didn't have to knock on the door, a servant in a nice black jacket, with gray gloves, opened it first, the Duchess walking into the hallway a few moments later. He didn't wait, since it was getting later than he thought, being nearly eight already. He was due over at Countess Alan's at nine for dinner and functionally that meant getting there a little early.

  Otherwise it would be boorish. Timon thought that was the term at least, it was a sign of rudeness to keep anyone waiting for too long.

  "Five hundred shields. One hundred thousand gold please." He held out his hand calmly, as if to do the exchange right then, which got the woman with her red and gray streaked hair to go wide eyed. He chuckled, knowing it probably wasn't really funny. "Sorry, you can send it to the same place as the last payment. Is Morgan here? I need to keep in touch, but I really have to run. Countess Alan asked me to dinner. I have no clue why."

  That got a look that seemed almost pitying for a few moments, until the woman called for Morgan, who was indeed still there, staying in one of her guest rooms. They needed to check in, but it was a casual thing. When he saw the man he looked happy enough at least. No marks from beatings or skeletal thinness from starvation. The Duchess seemed to like him too, as if they were friends already, which was a good thing. A lot of the nobles could be a little hard on people they thought of as working for them.

  Timon was safe enough, since he was a Countier. Regular people had a lot of rules that needed to be followed however and in a person's own area of influence they were very often the law. The Duchess less so than say a Count or Countess, but here in the woman's home she could have done anything, and gotten away with it.

  The good ones didn't do that kind of thing, but that didn't mean they were all nice and kind. Ali's father had been horrible, from what Timon could work out. So bad that no one talked about what he'd done to his own children. Since nobles tended to just snicker and look the other way over matters of sex, it was probably a lot worse than he could imagine. Luckily he didn't have to, since the man had died in a mysterious accident. A very handy one.

  "I really need to be off, I just wanted you to have those as soon as possible."He waved to Morgan and bowed to the Duchess, since they were in her house. Plus he would have anyway, since it was the polite thing to do.

  When he got to the door the older woman took his arm and walked with him out onto the porch, shutting it behind her, so no one could easily listen.

  "Be careful. It might be tempting to seek an older woman for pleasure, given your age, but it never ends well. I won't speak ill of my Countess, but Nora Alan is sometimes less than discreet and being tied to her too early won't aid your future at all. Be polite, but remember, you aren't required to do anything with her that doesn't serve you as well." It was motherly sounding advice, and the woman really had a worried look on her face.

  "Fine. If you don't hear from me in a few days, call in the army. I'm pretty sure she wants something else though."

  "Well, we can hope. Be well and safe Timon Baker." There was a soft sadness to the words that made him wonder if she figured he was just going to ignore her wisdom.

  That would be foolish, since it was clear she was right.

  From her place it took less than fifteen minutes for him to find Countess Alan's again and only a few more to land, that made him only about ten minutes early after he cycled his clothing amulet so that everything would be fresh again, and moved to knock on the front door. Almost as if it were a game he had to wait and after knocking twice, nearly at nine exactly, the door open. That was good, since he was just about to assume no one was home.

  "There you are Countier Baker! Sorry I was delayed, but the servants have all left, so we have the house all to ourselves. You understand; that which is not seen, cannot be spoken of with authority." She waved him in, resting a hand on his back, bending over a little to do so. Her clothing was different than earlier, lighter, with more lace showing. More cleavage too. "Mind, they can still speak, it's just harder to get people to believe them."

  They moved to the dining room, which was a sedate brown room that was nice, but lacked the polish of the King's palace. Then, most homes did. The food was already laid out, with two places set, close together, so that they could talk while they ate. Timon assumed it was about conversation anyway, at first. The Countess stuck her foot out a little, under the small table, candles flickering gently. Her shoe bumped his just a bit.

  "So, have you heard about this new wedding the Queen is throwing for the ruler of Vagus? Lynred? It's a very pretty name, don't you think?" She started to serve the first course which was a red wine. He nearly turned it down, but the woman took care to only give him enough to be polite, about a half inch at the bottom of the glass. She didn't take much more for herself either.

  "This is rather dry. I'm not. In case you were wondering." There was a mischievous look then, as if he might not get the reference. "In fact it's said that my wit is a bit damp and soggy at times. I can but try." She waved a hand at his glass and let her foot rest against his leg, stroking it absently with her toe.

  She took a sip of her wine, and since they were both from the same container he did the same, not bothering to check it. No one would drink poison after all, not if they knew it was there. They didn't talk, her foot going higher over time, tracing lazy circles. After the wine was done she serves a simple dish made from pears and spices. It was warm, but not sugared at all. She looked at him to see how much he wanted, which wasn't a lot compared to what she took. Giants had to eat more after all.

  After the first bite she looked directly into his eyes, her foot on the outside of his thigh, doing fairly agile things, considering their relative positions. It was starting to have a real effect on him and he probably would have gone along with it anyway, if all he had to fear was a
beating from Prince Alphonse over it and a lecture from the King. In fact everything in his body wanted him too.

  The words of the Duchess came back to him though. She'd had some good points. He tilted his head, about to ask the woman what her intentions were, when she dropped her foot and looked away, at a time piece on the wall. It was only about nine-twenty.

  "I know that you must be wondering why I asked you here. I have to admit that it isn't exactly as I've been presenting things to you." The giant woman was staring at him, her face a little bit sad. "Which is unfortunate. If you were even a little older I really would have invited you over just to have fun. I... Have a problem though and I think you might be able to help me with it."

  Trying as hard as he could, Timon couldn't imagine what that would be at all. It was a strange thing, because he should have been able to tell that sort of thing. There were clues in her behavior, in the words she used. He just couldn't make any sense of them at all suddenly. His eyes felt funny too. It took a lot longer for him to get than it should have, but finally he shook his head a little.

  "You drugged the wine?" His words were a little thick, but not drunk sounding yet. He stood, trying to be careful, but after a half second he sat back down, not able to hold himself up.

  "The wine, the pears and the mint jelly for the lamb. We didn't get to that. You're so tiny and perfect. I ate the same food, more of it even and don't feel anything at all. My friend said it would work that way, but I have to say the difference is far greater than I expected. You didn't even use your poison detector. It wouldn't have worked if you had by the way, this is a very special compound created just for you."

  Then, as if the world was betraying him, he fell to the ground, onto his left side. It didn't hurt much, but the floor was cool, so he could still feel something. What he couldn't do was move overly. It wasn't that he felt paralyzed, just so weak it was too hard to manage anything. A few moments later the woman was standing over him, towering there, looking just as polite and normal as a person might want.

  "Don't worry, we won't do anything to you while you sleep. That would defeat the purpose. Like I said, I need your help with something. I'm sure after that we can have some fun together, if you want. Ooh, maybe even during? You probably won't want to after."

  There was no way for him to keep his eyes open. He felt things, like his amulets being removed carefully, including his clothing. Then someone picked him up, an almost gentle thing, and carried him for a bit. At the door he forced his eyes open, and tried to make sense of where he was going. It was to a wooden staircase behind a very thick and rather old wooden partition. It was dark inside, but whoever was holding him smelled funny. Like dust and cobwebs.

  "Over here to the table, I've never gotten to use it before. This will be exciting. Welcome to your rack, little lamb..." That had to be the Countess, but her voice was so far away it was hard to tell.

  After that he lost track of things for a long time, until the pain ripped him awake. It was still hard to focus properly, but he felt a bit more alert. His arms were over his head and his shoulders, wrists, ankles and hips burned. It took a few moments to work it all out. It was a table, one that could have held five of him, with chains that went over a large roller at his feet. There was a strange man with black eyes where the color should have been working a hand crank, increasing the pain.

  "There we are. That should wake the boy." The accent finished the picture, being a flat Austran one. "It won't be long now at all."

  Timon gasped as the chains drew his legs down and further apart.

  The Countess walked into view then, smiling as if this was the most fun she could have. "Don't worry Timon, we don't want you to tell us any secrets. You probably don't have any worth knowing, being as young as you are. All we need from you is the use of your communications device, and some screaming." She picked up the item in question and waved it at him, then set it down and picked up the smaller black one. "What's this?"

  She was watching him, but the Larval Assassin just glanced at it and held out his hand to take it. He was black haired and looked hard, as well as young, perhaps twenty, maybe less. After a few seconds the Countess complied, her face a little put out by it. He opened it and turned it on, searching the memory quickly.

  "You have Kincaid Rue's number in your compact? Impressive. Is she nice?" There was an almost giddy sound to the voice rather than the deadly tone of a killer. If you really were one, you probably didn't have to be as concerned about appearances.

  "Actually she is." His voice was calm and didn't break or crack, which he figured it would. He didn't even feel thirsty yet. In horrible pain, but other than that, fine. "Really sweet in fact."

  The man nodded and turned the crank a bit further, sending even more pain into his shoulders and hips, one of which popped suddenly, since he was being yanked apart. He screamed for nearly ten seconds and then gasped for longer. When he recovered the man with the dead black eyes smiled.

  "Oh, that's good. I hate it when I find out that the people from the screen are actually monsters. It ruins everything I see them in from that point on."

  It was strange, but through the pain, Timon could see how that might work. They had those things in their homes, even where they slept, big windows that showed them people as if they were a part of their lives. They weren't though. Some were just players, and that meant that when the scene was done, they went back to being themselves, but the Austran people didn't see that part very often, did they?

  There was another half turn and another scream, the Countess moving her face down next to his, her lips suddenly on his sweat stained cheek.

  "Does it hurt little one? My dear perfect little lamb?" Her voice was kind and gentle as she spoke the words, which clearly marked her as insane. The Larval wasn't doing much better, wanting to go on about Kincaid, until the Countess turned and shook her head.

  "Stop that. I don't know who that is and you're making me jealous. Who exactly is this Rue woman to you? Are you lovers?"

  The Larval stared at her and shook his head. "If only. She's an actress. It doesn't matter. Let's set this up." He looked at Timon and smiled, a soulless thing that sent a chill up his spine. Or would have, if he could have spared attention for things like that.

  "Here's the plan then, Timon. May I call you Tim? Anyway, we set a trap for your brother, Torrance Baker, The Great Unknown Factor. My brothers and I did. He came and rescued one of his sluts, but we failed to catch him at all. So we intend to do a little better this time. What we plan to do is use your communications device to contact Tor. Now, it's true, he hasn't been answering his, but if we leave it on, we think he just might eventually. Then, when he speaks, you'll serenade him with screams. If he doesn't come to rescue his poor little brother very, very soon, we'll kill you." He seemed to be staring at something in the distance then, taking at least a minute to refocus on Tim.

  Without waiting to be told, the Countess triggered the first sigil on the white device, making it glow blue and seem to hover over the surface, above the others by a bit. It didn't move and no voice came.

  It wouldn't. The first thing almost everyone that could had tried regarding Tor was just using the device, knowing he had one that traveled with him. It was never answered. Tor probably knew that something like this would happen and had gotten rid of the thing, so that the Larval would learn not to try it.

  Less than fun for him, being the object lesson, but it made sense. Of course he wasn't getting out of this alive. That was a known thing already. The Countess had to know that if he was ever found at all to have been tortured by her, there would be a war. Timon wasn't certain that was the case, not really, figuring that Count Lairdgren had spare grandchildren, and time to make more. A war ate up a lot of resources and killed your own people. Diplomacy far less so.

  His brother wouldn't be coming either. Sure, they were brothers, but they hardly knew each other and Timon knew something that the Larval didn't. The programing that had made his brother a
virtual slave had been broken by an ancient King. The man, Cordes, had put his mind into his brother, at least in part. For some reason that hadn't destroyed Tor at all, it had just freed him to be whatever it is he really was. He could leave Timon to die, even horribly, if he had to. Now. He couldn't have before.

  There was no need to talk to them about it. They weren't going to suddenly decide that his personal charm outweighed their desire to kill his brother. What he didn't get was why the Countess was taking part. It made some sense, the woman clearly enjoying herself already as he screamed, but she hadn't seemed too thrilled by the idea of war before. At least she'd held most of her troops back.

  Because she was in on the attack plan. It clicked, just as the Assassin lengthened his legs another eighth of an inch. He gasped and tears came to his eyes, but he didn't scream this time. That got the man to frown and work the lever more vigorously then, until the other hip made a wet popping sound. It was a white hot pain, the likes of which he'd never imagined at all.

  The dark haired man with his boyish and evil looking face looked baffled. "I really would have thought his shoulders would give way first. They normally do. Well, you are a special case, aren't you? A Revered One and all that. Young though. Too bad. If you were older you might have figured out what was going on in time to stop it. Or at least have a chance to escape now. Instead you're just bait. A bit of meat on a hook, to reel in the big fish. Not even important enough for anyone of note to miss." There was a head shake, meant to be mock sympathetic.

  He was also supposed to protest about how important he was. That wasn't going to happen. He couldn't stop them from hurting him, or doing anything they wanted, but it wouldn't matter. No one was coming for him... and shouldn't. He smiled then, a pained thing that was probably more of a grimace. The Countess read it right, looking excited for some reason.