by P. S. Power
The whole thing really would be best handled on friendly, even joking terms. As a prank between friends, this was tolerable. As a training exercise it was… actually kind of a good idea. They all needed the training after all, both forces. All three forces really. He sent the paper off with one of Kolb’s biggest and meanest looking men, a full Baron. He wanted the crisp brown paper delivered, not to have the messenger stolen too.
It was only four hours in, but when he checked all the fields were holding just fine on the shields he’d made that morning. It was a little scary really, because he kept expecting them to fail, or at least have some problem. Be weaker than normal maybe or be twitchy somehow. So far they were, if not perfect, at least perfectly normal. If they held this long it was almost certain they’d hold for years. Still, the wait was worth it. Better safe than not.
Then, digging into one of the heavy wooden trunks under his bed, a nice space saving measure that whoever built the bed had obviously thought about first, having storage there, Tor pulled out three full bags of gold and silver. Counting it out on his bed he got out twenty gold and put the rest away. That had to be good enough as a start, right? Using a nice blue silk bag with a shiny draw string he started to head over to the… Ladies House, towards what was now the inner wall. Rolling his eyes he jogged back to his hut and got twenty of the new shields and the nine water heaters he had. The woman had their own bath house now, he’d heard, but they were still using the main one, because they didn’t have hot water yet. Duh. He’d have done the same thing if he were them. Tor wrapped it all in a single, large piece of tan canvas and started off.
It was late enough that Madam Clarissa was already awake and met him in her parlor, a nicely appointed room by anyone’s standards. The red was a little too rich and bright, mainly velvet pillows and upholstered low couches and a lot of black velvet and lace too, but it wasn’t shabby, and beat what he’d grown up with by about a thousand times. A lot of the room was done up with things made of focus stone, including a few halfway decent statues. Someone had talent. He examined one of them in particular, it was a man standing hands at his side, and a woman kneeling in front of him, her mouth… He blushed when he realized what it depicted.
So, that’s how such things worked? That wasn’t kissing at all… Still, the artwork was fine, nearly as good as anything he’d seen in the palace. If the man could shift away from this kind of subject a little, such a piece could make excellent gifts for Rich and Connie.
Maybe even if he couldn’t. The idea of presenting something like that made him laugh a little as the madam settled on one of the sofas.
“That was a gift from one of the men here. He’s really quite talented. I believe he’s hoping that he can save enough of his pay to one day buy his own shaping rig. I feel he could make a living doing such, don’t you?” Her words had a soft, velvety tone that fit the room somehow. When he turned from the statue her eyes held a glint.
“It really is fine. Have him come to me the next time you see him? Well, after that, I mean. I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun. I’ll trade him the gear he needs for some future work, that way he won’t have to scrimp along for years, and can do some up in his off hours here. Besides, no one is making those yet but me, the compressors, so it’s a prime time for him to get one. His current job making him me adjacent and all.” Tor walked over to the woman and handed her the bag of gold first. Her eyes went wide, and she looked inside immediately. Before she could speak he explained.
“Right, so, for a while I need to borrow some of your talent for kitchen duty. Any of them that help get paid what they’d normally bring in, assume a good night, with you getting your normal cut. Um, if they want to work some in the evening too, that should count as extra for them, yeah? I don’t want to take them away from their real work here, we kind of need them, but it’s a pinch, what with the flight school having grabbed our cooks for now, so any of your people willing to help, please let them know that they won’t be losing anything by doing so.”
Her mouth hung open for a few seconds, displaying slightly gapped teeth. It wasn’t un-pretty, but the whole thing didn’t make her look overly bright for a few seconds. Even this early in the day she wore heavy makeup, which probably meant she was older than she looked, nearer fifty instead of forty. She took the bag of gold and tucked it away quickly in a cupboard to the side, under a table, as if he was going to take it back. That said a lot about the life that she’d had to lead, he realized.
Next he handed over the water heaters, and explained how it could be used for the showers as well. Tor felt a little awkward for a few seconds, because really, he should be setting it up himself. There was just so much to do and he only had a few hours to check the kitchen then get to his own agonizing training with Kolb. He rubbed at his arms and shoulders absently, he hurt all over of course. It almost made him want to do a deep building project, or at least more copying, so that he could just ignore it for a while. In front of him the woman sucked in air suddenly, as if in shock.
“This…” Tears came to her eyes and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief pulled from her sleeve. Tall as she was, that was a very underclass thing, Tor knew. It was what farm wives did for instance. It told him a little of her actual origin. Oh well. She faked speaking well enough and really, he only recognized the gesture and habit because that was where he was from too. Was he really any different than her? Well, yes. Shorter. Her act of pretending to be upper crust probably fooled a lot more people than his did.
“Master Tor… This is… Thank you! That you care this much about our comfort means a lot to us all.”
Tor held up the rest of what was in the package and explained quickly.
“Shields, a new batch, made a new way, but they seem to be holding well so far. These can’t be sold or traded for anything, understood? Each lady should have one and wear it any time she’s out, or if she goes to the Capital or anything for a trip, but they need to come back here and not find their way to the black market. The King will have my behind if that happens. If anyone needs gold that badly for something, please tell them to just come see me, all right? No need to risk getting in trouble or anything. It’s just, it occurred to me that if someone can lift our cooks, they might want our ladies of industry too. Good luck trying that now!” He smiled and handed the shields over. He just hoped there were enough. He really had no clue how many women worked here. Tor could get them more shields if need be.
“Ladies of industry?” The madam chuckled a little at the term but didn’t mock him overly for it.
Tor grinned and gave her a seated half bow. If someone was doing a job you needed done, it was best not to make them feel uneasy about it, right? You don’t mock a barber and then go for a haircut. He kind of needed to do that himself soon. His hair was getting shaggy enough that Kolb would probably start pulling it during practice to make a point. Absently he rubbed at the straight black mass on his head and winked.
“I need to go now, but please, let me or Countess Thorgood know if there are any problems or if you need anything we can provide. Especially field devices, since I can generally see to that retty easily myself.”
Laughing Clarissa told him that she’d be sure to send over a list. He could tell that she was kidding, but shook his head at her, which got her attention.
“It’s not a joke. If you have a list, send it. I can’t promise instant… anything, but we’ll do our best to see to you and your peoples comfort and safety. Don’t doubt that.”
She bowed low to him when he stood to leave, while holding a curtsy. Ouch. That had to be hard. He took her by the shoulder lightly and helped her stand up. Then patted her on the arm and left. It was always disturbing when people did things like that. He’d have been more comfortable if she’d tried to hug him or something instead.
The kitchen was buzzing with activity but the familiar curly haired girl was gone, which he kind of suspected would be the case. He helped out where he could, which turned out to be on the se
rving line, the lunch that day being griddle seared, and pan fried, breaded and spiced chicken, potatoes with a creamy dressing and bread rolls. The person doing most of the cooking was a military guy that Tor had never noticed before.
It turned out that his family owned a restaurant. In Galasia of all places. He’d recently joined up with the military when the war started and requested the station, because Tor had helped out his city, saving most of his family. Apparently he wasn’t overly concerned with troll rumors, not being a small child. The man told Tor all of this while working and calling out orders that people, mainly giants and ladies from the house, ran to fulfill as best they could. Sorlee worked on baking with a very familiar, and pretty, tall woman that Tor had taken several beatings from in the last few years. His lips tingled a little in remembered contact too, which caused him to blush a little, but happily enough.
“Petra! How’s it going?” He asked, making his voice sound genial and as happy as he could get it. The large girl turned on him, then sighed deeply and dramatically.
“Oh… it’s you. Well, I knew that it was only a matter of time until the payback came for all those training sessions.” Looking around she leaned in slightly and whispered.
“Truth is we all suck at this Tor. If it wasn’t for Sorlee and Will the restaurant fellow, we’d be standing around grunting and trying to break jars open with rocks. “Ooog me Petra, me cook good” I was all ready to come in and act all superior, all “Counserina of the kitchen” but I’m totally lost. I don’t know anything about baking at all. Honestly, I kind of thought that bread came off the top of the stove until about an hour ago. Did you know that it’s all made in the oven?”
Seriously Tor nodded, trying to keep any hint of a smile from his face, “so I’ve heard. Except for pancakes, some flat breads, pita and tortillas. You probably got the idea of how all bread was made from one of those.”
Petra just threw her hands out to the side and sputtered a little. It was very cute, Tor decided.
“See? I’m so confused.”
Sorlee laughed and patted the huge woman on the arm.
“You’re doing fine. Bread and sweet rolls next. Breads like early rolls… Sweet rolls…” The country girl looked at Tor and spouted a string of real speech for him to translate.
“She’s saying that sweet rolls are a little different, so you can’t use the same bread recipe, but it still has yeast. There’s more sugar, so it takes a little longer to rise. Today she wants to do a currant cinnamon roll. The only thing is, she has to go and practice her transport flying, she’s soloing to the Capital today, so after she shows you how to make the first pan or two, you’ll need to do it yourself.”
The huge girl turned red, and then white. For a few seconds Tor wondered if they were going to lose her to combat rage, but then she shook her head and sighed a little sadly. “I’m not ready for that…”
“I’ll check in on you every few hours, don’t worry, you won’t really be alone and besides, you can do this. Just, take notes so you don’t forget anything and remember, the key to good baking is largely paying attention. It’s like a fight that way, so you have the needed skills. These ovens won’t fluctuate in temperature like a wood stove even, so by watching the time of the first batch you should be able to have the rest out almost perfectly. You’ll do fine.” Tor patted her on the arm too and wondered why she wasn’t wearing a shield. He was. For that matter, if Sorlee and Haper were making a town trip he wanted them to have shields on. Just in case someone wanted to try and take their transport. Who would do that? The guys from the flight school came to mind for some reason.
Tor changed and dropped those devices off on his way to see Kolb, sending ten extra for the people at the delivery service with Sorlee. Since half the combat giants were gone, Kolb decided to work with Tor himself that day.
Yay. Special attention.
Tor had to run again, but not as far, because he was already so sore. The stone work was abridged too, thank god. That just left a nearly hour long beating from the weapons instructor. For the first time ever, the man was actually just hitting him. With his hands and feet at least. With the sword and stick he let Tor have some vastly over-sized practice armor. It swam on him so much that it almost wasn’t worth having; the sleeves covered his arms and part of the weapon, which was fine with the sword. After all, you grabbed the handle and swung, without ever letting go. The stick, which required frequent changes of hand position, was nearly impossible. He even dropped it once, without Kolb even touching him. The man just grinned wickedly and moved on him with his own stick. Tor back pedaled then gave his battled cry, the very one Kolb had spent years drumming into his head.
“Run away!”
“About time you remembered that Tor. One duel with a half mental defective Count and you stop even trying to get away. Not everyone is going to be a wimp like Rodriguez, picking on children… Good, now we can start on the real work. Tomorrow though. Bring your shield, flying rig and anything else you think might help you in a fight. Bring enough to share if you have new things. Run first and meet me here at three tomorrow.”
Whee. Well, at least he’d have a shield. Tor wondered if he’d get to use it. That wasn’t at all certain. We’ll, he’d live. Probably.
The rest of the day was spent hooking up the water system from the new river, which he dubbed, “the secret” river. So far no note from the King or any of the rest of the royal family about it. That was kind of surprising, because, well, it was over six hundred miles long and had a huge flow, several times what the King’s river had this time of year. For no one to notice it was scary. Half of it ran right behind a military base for goodness sake. Those people flew over it all the time too…
Freaky that it hadn’t been mentioned.
If they were missing this, what else was going on that they didn’t know about?
Every hour or so he checked the kitchen and, slightly to his surprise, Petra had the sweet rolls well in hand. She needed help making the icing, but that was fair, since she hadn’t been shown how before Sorlee left for the afternoon. Really, as he watched, Tor felt impressed and a little proud of everyone.
The kitchen was running. Not smoothly, and not well, but they’d have food and for the most part no one would be ending up with food poisoning even. That was a lot more than he’d expected. Maybe they should get more professional restaurant people in, if they were all like Will. And some professional bakers. Tor blinked. Yeah. That might just work.
“Excuse me Will…”
He started. The man jumped again when he realized who was speaking to him, but smiled when he heard the pitch. It turned out the young man had a whole family that could do this kind of thing. Some of whom might even be willing to relocate.
Could he just hire people like that? Well, more to the point, if he paid for it, would the military stop him? Tor didn’t think so. He’d get into town soon and ask about it at the palace. He could sweeten the deal with some shields and flying rigs if he hurried. First though, he had to get the new pump system put in so that everyone had water to their bath houses and restrooms. It took until dark, when lights started coming on in the surrounding buildings he headed back to his own hut.
He’d gotten just passed the door cut in the tall inner wall when he saw the silhouette.
It was a person, female, and even wearing a dress or skirt. Or a man wearing a skirt, if it was something sinister, he supposed. It really felt that way. Dark and evil, to tell the truth. It caught the attention if nothing else.
Tor had his shield on already, it was just habit after all that had happened. The figure held a knife, the edge glittering gently in the light from the nearest buildings, and they waited for him to pass before jumping out and trying to stab him. It wasn’t a clumsy move, not really, but the lights of the building had back lit the form. The size was right, but Tor knew one thing for certain. It wasn’t Trice or Wensa. Either of them would have known that he had a shield on all the time by now, especially if he
was outside. The mask was the same as before, Tor thought so anyway. A full leather thing that looked to fasten in the back. Kind of like the helm that Trice had worn the other day.
Tor hit the sigil on the Not-flyer he wore. It was one of the new kind too, faster than the ones allowed in town. Catching up to the running form wasn’t hard with the extra speed, but grabbing them was. Twist followed turn as they fled, making it a real enough race, even if Tor was traveling about four times faster than the assassin. He didn’t stop, doubling back over and over again, trying to catch hold or knock the person over. Finally he got them cornered.
Literally.
They’d run towards the wall, but in a direction there was no door, where the inner dividing wall met the outer and they joined, fused glass like focus stone leaving no seam or gap to wiggle through, no hand hold to allow climbing. They spun around and fought with their waistband, obviously going for a weapon of some kind. Tor slammed into them as fast as he could go, letting his shield force their body back, slamming the person into the wall hard. Dress or not, the grunt that came out was all man. Deep and oddly accented.
So were the words that followed.
“Fuck! Why don’t you just die already you half sized freak?” The man said, slightly muffled by the mask. The voice was deep enough, but not one he recognized at all.
Then a brilliant blue light came from the man’s hand, something he held, Tor guessed, as pain ripped through his body and he started to convulse over and over again. The man hung over him and tried to kick him, but the foot stopped in the air. His weapon may be able to get through the shield, and it hurt badly, but the man still couldn’t touch him. Heh. Well, another thing to be fixed on the shield then.
A minute or two later, pain coursing through him the whole time, Tor heard people coming. The man said “fuck” again, but ran off. By the time people started showing up Tor had climbed to his feet shakily. That… whatever it was, hurt. He’d never heard of a weapon that could do that. It went right through his shield, so there was no physical component. A mental effect? Most of those should be filtered out already, but it could be. That or someone had found a way around what he’d guarded against already. Could it have been the light? That made sense, he’d never seen a real need to shield against light at all. How it worked to make his muscles seize up like that, he didn’t know. Effective though.
