by P. S. Power
So no one got hurt by it, not even carriage drivers. After all, it was just some stuff he’d made, right?
In the end he had enough stored in his hut to outfit a small army. Actually an army that wasn’t all that small to tell the truth, locked up in six trunks that just sat in the back along the wall, waiting. The tops were marked with orange and black stripes, marking them in Thorgood colors. No one else seemed to notice it at all, not even Sara, who spent a lot of time watching what he did and trying to be helpful when she was around. He hadn’t told anyone, not Rolph, not even Ursala, what was in there either. The big Countess, no longer big, just tall and nearly lean from all her work outs with the combat giants out back, had become quieter as the days moved closer to them going and she started looking at Tor more and more strangely.
Finally he had to stare back at her for a while. It was that or move out.
“Alright Ursala, what? Did you start a new rumor that I was a troll? I swear, I’m going to have to start walking around with a club all the time at this rate.” He shook his head in mock sadness, then smiled at her and, feeling daring for once, walked around the dark focus stone table, feet scuffing a little on the plush hand-woven red and blue rug at his feet and tapped his shield off, getting her to follow suit. Then he kissed her warmly. It led to a very nice afternoon in which he didn’t get a lot of work done, but they did manage to laugh a little. It was nice, even if the Countess was distracted the whole time. When they’d finished and moved back to sit at the table Ursala sighed.
“Tor… could I buy some gear off you do you think? I mean military stuff, shields, and flying rigs, maybe other things? I’ll pay going rate for whatever you can spare. I’d offer to marry you too, so you could have a title, but Count Tor doesn’t sound any better than Prince Tor really…” She didn’t smile when she said it, sounding oddly serious for some reason.
“Um, on top of your birthday present?” He asked, trying to keep his voice smooth. Really he didn’t have a clue when her birthday was, but he surely missed the last one, right?
She blinked at him, baffled.
“That’s not until the beginning of true summer…”
Tor shrugged.
“Well, I’ll give you part of it now, if you promise to remember it later. OK?”
Taking her hand he led her to the trunks along the back wall and freed up the ones with orange and black strips painted on the top. They weren’t huge things, just a few lines about the size of his index finger in thickness, but it was enough. There were six of them in all.
“Happy birthday.”
“But..” She started opening the boxes, getting a little more frantic with each one. “But…” The blond managed to say that single word seven more times before she got to the last box, which held things she didn’t recognize at all. “Um…”
Tor fought a smile from his face and pointed at each case in turn.
“Shields for two thousand, flyers for five hundred, not-flyers for a thousand,” this got them through the first four boxes at five he hesitated for a second. “Miscellaneous really, earth moving gear of two types, the normal kind and the really powerful ones I made for Afrak. Lights, temperature plates, water heaters, stove and grill plates, ten of the anti-sound things, just because you’re known to get a little loud from time to time, and compressor units for both building and fine crafting of focus stone.”
Tor waved his hand at the last box.
“That’s the special one though. It’s everything you need to make the massive transport you talked about, with shields made for war on it. We have to build the body ourselves, but that can be done. I suggest we pick Godfrey’s brain on the topic first though. You know, to get the doors right and whatever. I really have no clue how those work.
“As for the rest, weapons and the second half of this stuff, well, I need to get with the King to see what you’re allowed to have in regards to that. Whatever it is, each of your outfitted people will get that too.”
She looked at the boxes and then at him and tears came into her eyes. No words came for a while and Tor was a little afraid that she’d refuse the gift, but that didn’t happen. Then he wondered if she’d kiss him or insist on something else, but that didn’t happen either.
“How long have you been planning this?” Ursala asked instead.
“Um, honestly? I don’t remember. A few weeks? A month or two? Time is so fluid in my head any more, what with all the work. But anyway, not that long and the military hasn’t been asking for half this stuff for a bit, so I’m not taking away from them or anything for it. Not much at least.”
“Oh.”
Tor couldn’t read her at all. He didn’t know what he really expected from her, but this felt like a bit of a letdown really. She nodded and stared for a bit, but it was a calculating look.
“Obviously this comes with strings.” The Countess said, softly, her voice odd, as if far away, drifty and a little sing song. It was weird.
Tor almost denied that totally, but he realized it had to, didn’t it? He nodded instead, which made her flinch.
“Right. Obviously. You kind of have to agree not to go to war with the kingdom of Noram using this gear, right? I mean, not that you were ever planning to, but if you do, you kind of need to do it without the stuff I made for you, alright? And then, I believe the tradition is that half your well armored and armed troops support the war effort directly. It shouldn’t cost that much though, because that’s only food and housing for them right? You’d need that even if you sent unarmored troopers. If you think it’s a good idea you could start a support group, kind of like the one here, to make needed things. Dams and bridges, roads and houses. Oh, and a transport squadron. If I were you I’d snap up Sorlee Farmer to head that up before the King’s army does, or at least as someone to train your transport drivers. And I’m saying that because she’s good, not just because I’m trying to get her out of being a whore.”
Out of all that the only thing that got a response from the woman was the last word.
“You said whore. I don’t think I remember you ever saying that before.” She was blinking strangely.
Tor just shrugged.
“Lady of industry. Sorry, my backwoods roots were showing for a minute there.” He grinned.
So did she. But then, without speaking, she refastened the cases and pushed them back into place, then walked to her bed area and didn’t come out for the rest of the night. Tor heard a scratching sound that he recognized as pen on paper. He felt a little bemused, but let it go. Apparently weapons of war didn’t make that good of a present for a lady? Well, he’d have to do up some flowers or something with the second part. He decided to keep that in mind for Connie’s gift. No weapons and nothing too practical? That could be done.
The next day, sitting on his bed, lights dim and Ursala primed to feed him and lead him to the restroom if need be, he started working on the Queen’s birthday gift. What he had in mind, well, it was about useless really, but he hoped she’d like it anyway. Being careful not to tell anyone what was up, he worked non-stop, building the field one piece at a time, so that he could eat dinner each night and sleep for a few hours before getting back up. It was a bit of a complicated field device, but it wasn’t massive in any portion, well, not too massive, compared to a thousand mile long river or something, so he didn’t have to risk dying to do it. He even ate and exercised enough that Kolb didn’t yell at him overly. Instead the bald man just gave him hard looks and raised his eyebrows a lot to try and get him to do more.
It did let him get ready for the trip to the Capital a little, practicing his fighting about an hour per day, running too. He didn’t rest enough, but something had to give in his schedule and he did sleep some. So it was better than a lot of the work he’d done over the last year that way. He didn’t even come close to dying for instance or even scaring anyone overly.
The trip to the Capital was uneventful, thankfully, though Tovey came to get him and had Sorlee fly him down rather than
letting him just fly himself. Then, as if trying to make him seem a near invalid, two of the combat giants carefully helped him out of the back section of the craft, nearly carrying him to the carriage, for the ride to the Thomson place. It was David Derring and Petra that were tasked with helping him, which was fine, except that Petra kept grabbing his behind and making him laugh. He had to drop into a trance just so that the chuckling wouldn’t make him seem too lively.
That didn’t stop her, but she did shift where her hands went a little, enough that Tor began to suspect that the girl might actually like him or something. Finally David whispered at her to stop, his voice low and dangerous sounding.
“Petra, give it a rest, at least till we get in. Tor is supposed to be near death, not getting ready to bed every girl in the Capital…” David glared at her a little but Petra yielded and started treating him like a revered elder, too sick to stand on his own.
They made it in finally, the house nice and cool at least, Tor had left his equalizer off, so that he’d look slightly distressed. Acting had never been a real skill of his, but letting himself suffer in the early spring heat would get the job done. That and the fact that he always looked a pale compared to most people, especially if he stood next to someone like Petra with her smooth dark looks. It probably worked, at least from the worried looks the staff was giving him. They offered to carry him to his room even. Tor nearly lost it then, barely keeping the laughter in.
Did he really look that bad? Apparently. Tor insisted on shuffling in under his own power, hamming it up for them, barely lifting his feet.
The next days he spent doing nothing more than copying fields for a military that had more shields now than they ever had before. It wasn’t a vast number, but instead of nearly ten thousand with shields of one sort or another, he had them up to nearly twenty-five.
Still, he had nothing else to do and no one would let him even leave the house. That was a good plan, he knew, since he needed to be available to be killed and all that. But it wasn’t exactly interesting. He couldn’t even work in the kitchen or clean rooms, or have interesting visits with Ursala. So he worked and pretended that was all he was interested in doing.
Nothing happened of course. No, that would be too exciting by far. No one even made noise in his section of the house. They even under-spiced the food, so that it wouldn’t be too much for him.
For two days the only thing that kept him going was an hour long afternoon visit with Petra, who sat with him underneath an invisible silent dome in his room. They couldn’t do anything, of course, because, well, first, it wasn’t that kind of relationship, bored or not, though by a couple of days in Tor didn’t doubt that even his natural shyness would fold under the desire to do something. Second, there were eyes on them constantly. The boredom was bad enough that he could have let go of worry about being watched by Tovey’s people, that was what it was, if they wanted to watch him have sex, more power to them. But if any of them were spies, vigorous activity on his part might give the plan away, right? That also took out weapons practice for the same reason.
So instead, they sat and talked.
It wasn’t inspired for the most part, talking about new types of devices Petra thought she’d like, some of which Tor thought he could actually do, like a device to merge cloth together without sewing, it would take some practice, but if the fibers could be coaxed to move together and intertwine… Well, that was doable, he thought.
They chatted about what she did for fun, which lately had, oddly enough, a lot to do with clothing styles of all things. The large girl that he’d never seen in anything but fighting leathers or real student browns that he remembered, not silk or velvet certainly, had a keen fashion sense and enjoyed designing her own outfits. Her family, well, the ones that talked to her, didn’t have a lot of money, but she used a bit of her pay each week to buy up material from the Capital, mainly the fine stuff from Afrak and Tellerand. Finally, on the third day, they talked about where she’d grown up.
That was enlightening to say the least.
“Um, well, most of my life I lived in Warden. The County Ward capital, of course. That was back before my dad died, you know? Once Marvin married Maria that was pretty much done. She’s too jealous to let anyone else be around that might influence him at all. He’s… look, Tor, I know that it’s likely that Maria’s behind the attacks on you, and that it’s probably my fault, but Marvin isn’t a bad guy, or at least he wasn’t before she came into his life.” Petra sighed and shook her head slowly while Tor looked baffled and just tilted his head at her, at least it got her to keep talking.
“A lot of people think he’s just dumb, but he’s… Well, he’s just really trusting, not stupid. The problem is, when they got married a few years ago, she started telling him that we were all out to tear him down, to destroy him and put James or even me on the seat instead of him. But neither of us really wants the job. James is a bit like him, not slow, but too trusting by half. The only plus there is that his wife is really smart, and a good person. As for me… Well, I like to think I’m bright enough, but really nothing special in the brains department, you know? My mom’s pretty smart, but dad was always, well, he was a Count and a good man.”
Ah. Tor had to piece a lot together then, so he started to ask some questions.
Petra smiled at him and nodded while she sat cross legged on his bed. Her clothing was all tough looking tan and cream leather with brown boots the same color as his own shoes.
“That’s right, Petra Ward. Ellen’s my mom, I’m kind of a late in life child, she was nearly fifty when she had me, which took everyone by surprise. Especially her, I hear. Didn’t you know that? I… though Kolb would have told you if, you know, Karen hadn’t. I… wasn’t trying to hide who I was from you or anything. I just thought everyone knew really.”
Tor shook his head, considering the whole thing for a bit.
“No. I guess that doesn’t matter though really, does it? If you were a secret agent for your brother and his wife, I’d be dead by now. But how is Maria coming after me your fault at all? I thought she just didn’t like me for asking her out once or for getting in the Count’s, your brothers, way when he and Rolph were in a fight that one time. Combat rage thing on both parts, so, not pretty, but no one got hurt… The King and Queen were both happy enough with the way it ended I think, except for the damage to the floor. No one said anything about it, but stone work like that must cost a bundle.” He shook his head and wondered if it was still there. If it was, he could probably fix it now, by using a stronger version of the concentrator they used on dirt. It wouldn’t do much to rock or stone, but it should seal cracks together without a seam showing. Maybe compact sand and gravel? He’d have to check when he could.
That got a downcast gaze at the bedspread and nothing else from the woman for a long time. Finally, wetting her naturally red lips with her tongue she nodded.
“It was a while back really, before, you know, that incident with Maria in your first year? Um, well, I kind of mentioned to her that I was going to ask Alphonse if he wanted to, you know, do something with me, just like really do something, not have sex or anything like that. That would be gross, since were too closely related by blood for that kind of thing. She didn’t know before that who he was, so she decided to set her sights. We were kind of friends back then, since I’d known her sister Collette before she graduated. Well you know all this right?”
Tor shook his head, because really this was the first that he’d heard about it at all. Petra took a deep breath and tightened her face up into a silly looking expression. Then she carried on. It seemed that Maria wasn’t just pursuing Rolph as a friend, or even sexual conquest, but decided to hit him full out, asking for marriage after the first time they slept together. That of course was more news to Tor. Why hadn’t Rolph mentioned any of this first? Then he wouldn’t have wasted time trying to ask her to that party at all.
“So, obviously she knew who you were too. Everyone did, even back the
n, at least the ones that knew who Rolph really is. We all had orders not to say anything to give him away, from the King’s own hand, written into a letter for each of us. Well, the signature was his at least. So, we all knew that, you know, you were special. Smart, even Alphonse said so, and that you had connections or something, the King only has what, six or seven scholarship kids at Lairdgren? You have to really show something to get one. But Maria didn’t know that. When Rolph tried to put her off, she, you know, didn’t get it, I don’t think. You know how pretty she is. I don’t think anyone had ever told her that they weren’t interested in her before, especially when she was offering herself in marriage. From what she said, Alphonse was very proper and courteous to her the whole time, but she was really insulted and couldn’t cope. I’m sure that the Prince was nearing the realization that he’d have to call in a go-between to calm her when you asked her out.”
Leather normally wouldn’t have been half comfortable in even this early spring heat, but Petra looked cool and dry. Then she openly had on a half dozen amulets, all things he’d made and given her. The pretty brown hand didn’t make contact with his leg when she reached out, both of them had shields on after all, all Kolb’s people wore them all the time as a rule, now, so she hovered there, palm flat, about an inch away from him. After a second she pulled back, realizing that it just wouldn’t work.
“So… I don’t know if Alphonse put you up to it or not, but when you, his roommate, walked up to her and asked her out, so very, very properly like that, with a flower arrangement that was obviously professionally made, something no normal student would be able to afford for something casual, she… kind of flipped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the girls is and always has been, kind of a bitch…”
