Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  "Maggie, sir." She all but whispered the words, her long brown hair being pulled back the only thing that kept it from hiding her bent face.

  "Sir? Not me. I'm just Tim. This is my brother, Torrance and our friends, Sherri and Demis. Tor has his own bakery, near the school where these other to go. I'm heading off to school next year, but in Printer, not Lairdgren. How long have you worked here?"

  That turned out to be around a year, but with only about a dozen more questions while they worked, Maggie opened up a lot. Just as the sauce was in need of a serving dish, which had a hot water bath around another bowl to keep it warm, she started talking about the people that had died. It was a bit morbid, given that it was a holiday, but it explained why the place was so empty.

  "Not everyone died. Mrs. Carlisle did, and the kennel man, Robs, but most just took off, before the countess could get that healing amulet. She made sure we all had a turn with it and let those with families in the area bring their kin in too. Most of the guardsmen died, before that. We don't even have one left now. What if we're attacked? I've thought of leaving myself, but I can't take the Countess with me, can I? Someone has to stay and try to protect her."

  It sounded nearly like the girl was slow, but she wasn't really. Just normal. It was a problem that Timon had at times, seeing regular people that way. Even smart ones sometimes seemed a little like they were deficient, missing the obvious things that were right in front of them. That wasn't fair. He was the odd one out, not Maggie.

  "Right. Well, we know some people that can be hired on for things like that, I bet. Mainly students still, but ones that have actually been in combat, so not just kids with sticks. Do you want me to see about getting them in? How many do you think there should be?" He poured the light yellow liquid from the pan into the warming bowl, stirring the whole time, with the whisk, as Tor had told him too.

  "It wouldn't be my place to hire anyone. I can't pay them. I'm not even certain the Countess can right now, you didn't hear me say that. We had twelve here before. But they were sworn men. I don't know if that makes a difference." She moved off then, but without looking over, Tor spoke, pulling a large loaf pan from the fire oven and tapping it, getting a hollow sound for his effort.

  It smelled done, but that could be a little deceiving.

  "You know, Gerent is still here, you should ask him about arranging funds, and chat with Count Lairdgren. He can help you get those guards I think. It can't hurt to ask, just to see if it can be done."

  The girl looked ready to panic, and at least Demis seemed to get why. Timon just rolled his eyes and smirked at his brother, trying to keep things peaceful.

  "Why don't you do it Tor? I know it's easy to forget, but some people actually feel a bit shy around Counts and that sort of person."

  He tilted his head, considering the words then shrugged.

  "Why don't you do it? I'm staying out of political things myself right now, as much as I can. Sticking to baking, except for my side projects."

  That would be magic of course, mainly making the new space going craft, but he didn't just say that, probably because he didn't want to scare the cook, who might not realize that he was "The Tor" yet. It was both polite of him and highly annoying. Especially since Timon didn't really want to chat with Count Lairdgren about anything in particular. He could do it, and had no real reason not to, except that he kind of thought the Ancient might not like him all that much. The feeling was mutual if it was the case, but they had to be able to work together, since immortal meant a long, long time in which anything might happen.

  "Fine then. I'll handle it. Don't worry Maggie. I'll even run it past Heather first to make certain she knows that the spies that we bring in won't be doing more than keeping tabs on her and her people. No set ups or personal intrigue." Not that he could really promise that, but it was a point to insist on. After all, the people he had in mind were kids from Lairdgren that weren't all strictly students anymore. Members of the King's Secret Army that worked out of there would most likely be the ones coming in. Kolb's people. Asking the Count was more of a polite fiction, since it was really Richard that should be contacted about it. Whatever worked seemed to be the rule of the day, so he'd go with it.

  They used the same table for serving the morning meal as they had the one from the night before. When Heather came down, dressed in a nice looking outfit of tooled buckskin that had white fur trim and was actually real, she looked like someone had punched her in the stomach. From where her eyes went in the room, first to Tor, and then him and the girls, all who were bringing in trays and platters of prepared food, he understood why. She felt embarrassed that she didn't have enough staff to get everything done for them.

  "This is lovely, you all shouldn't have put yourselves out again, I'm sure the cook staff..." She glanced at the door that led back to the hallway and winced, knowing that one person didn't really make a staff.

  Tor smiled winningly enough and set a large tray of rolls and breads down on the main table.

  "Family tradition. The first ones up make the morning meal. Thank you for having us in, by the way. I know that we kind of invited ourselves over, but this has really been nice. Everyone should sit down now, before the food gets cold."

  It looked like almost everyone was there already. Gerent was sitting at the far end, as if he suspected that his natural place in things would be there for some reason. Tim set his own offering down and then moved into place next to him. Trice and Petra came over too at least, so they had a group of people that knew each other.

  "Gerent, we're going to be busy today. Not to be a pain, but would it be possible to get some funds for a relief effort here? Both the King and Tor mentioned that you were handling that for the Kingdom. Well, you and Alphonse, but he's managed to not be around me all day so far. We need to get some food in, just in case and some other things. Raw goods, and some guards, if Heather will stand for it. Call it twenty thousand gold?" That was a lot. More than Timon had himself at the moment, since he'd invested pretty heavily with Sara and her new venture of goods shipping from overseas. Tor had that just sitting around his strong room taking up space, and didn't want to be bothered with it, if Tim had the idea right.

  Gerent however was from a poor background, so he actually lost color as the idea hit him.

  "That's... I... guess so. It's a lot. I'll need an exact list of where it's all going and why. I don't want to seem mean, but it needs to be spent on real things, not fine wines for the High Servants or something like that." His slightly reedy voice was a bit harsh, but Timon shrugged and looked around.

  "Some food, fish from Printer and maybe some other things if anyone will sell. Winter canned vegetables and that sort of thing. Some guards for here and in places where someone might attack, to make sure no one decides to make an example out of Heather or her people for switching sides. I'm sure that there will be other things, but I can communicate with you and ask if it will be alright, if you want. What I need to know is that you're good with it." After all, if he said no, then the whole thing would be a lot harder.

  "Yes. I feel like someone is trying to rip my lungs out, that's so much coin, but I'll do it." There was a tremor in the words, but down the table a bit, where Tor sat near Ali, Timon saw his brother nod. It was his coin after all, so him being alright with it had to make the small man feel a bit better. Or would have, no doubt, if he'd bothered to look up the table that far.

  "Great! I'll see to the rest of it then. First I need to get with Countess Montblanc and make certain she doesn't see this as an attack on her person or rights."

  It took a while, even with most of the people he needed right there at the table. It was clear that nothing would really be getting done that day, or for several more. There was a pesky marriage to attend that he had to be at for instance and people and goods had to be arranged. On the other hand, there was almost no way that anyone would be set up to attack Heather or her County in that time frame. One thing they had over their enemy was speed
. He could arrange an attack in a few days, true. Very few other people could. Not at any kind of distance.

  The idea that he really could get it done was novel enough that he stopped for a few seconds, then, after finishing his discussions with everyone, he actually went to sit back down by Trice, Petra, and Gerent, and sighed.

  "There then, my good deed for the week. Now I just need... To eat something probably." He'd been skipping a lot lately that way. It wasn't healthy really and he'd been losing weight, which made him look weak. People would start to think he was sick or something if it kept on too long. That or his ability to feed himself was suspect.

  Gerent jumped up and moved to the other end of the table, grabbing a plate, but froze when he got to the portion that had the food near it, since there were three Counts and two Countesses right near it. There was also Douglas, who turned to looked at him and smiled.

  "We should pass this down." The words were said gently, but small common looking man or not, everyone did it, including Count Peterson, who stared at Gerent for a few moments before nodding.

  "Gerent Lairdgren? I hear good things about you from my younger brother, Jose. You worked with him at the prison after the attack? I don't know if you'd remember him..."

  The small man looked nervous, but smiled anyway and bowed a bit, holding the plate in front of himself, as if to use it as a shield.

  "Captain Peterson? Yes, he commanded the military men for us. Very good at his job. He brooked no intolerance for our guests. That wasn't a small thing either, since many of the men were a bit angry after the attack on the Capital. I know it couldn't have been easy for him, working with someone like me." It was a simple statement. One meant to simply show relative place, instead of putting himself down.

  The wild looking Count just shook his head and smiled.

  "Funny, he mentioned the same thing, only with the positions reversed. He has nothing but praise for you however. You should come and visit us at the Elite Flyers base, Princess Veronica and I would love to have you as a guest. Soon."

  Then the man moved a bit so that Gerent could push in to load up a plate. He didn't touch him, but there was a quiet respect that was almost out of place coming from a giant noble. It was, Tim understood, forced, but that the Count bothered was still a sign of respect. Clearly, whatever Jose Peterson had said to him about Gerent it had had an effect.

  A short minute and a half later the white ceramic plate was in front of him, and Gerent sat back where he'd started. It was just eggs and a roll, with orange sauce all over it. No one else had eaten their food that way, and it got a funny look from Trice, who searched his face, expecting him to mention it. Instead he used a knife and fork to eat it all, as if it were completely normal. That was the ultra polite way of doing things after all, using silver and never touching the food with your hands. No one would fault Gerent either, since it could just be a custom from a different region of the kingdom, as far as they knew. It was awkward, but worked well enough.

  There was very little speaking while he ate, at least near him. Countess Montblanc did carry on a quiet conversation with Count Lairdgren about something at the other end of the table, and Terry pestered Tor about getting a new Fast Craft for a bit, which made Timon smile. He didn't keep it up and amazingly, Tor didn't offer one of his new vehicles to the boy.

  As soon as he finished eating, Timon left the table, going to his cottage to pick up a nice handful of his new amulets and made it back before anyone but the people that he'd been sitting with realized that he was gone.

  "Here you go Terry. This means that you work for me, at regular pilot rates, so be ready to stand on call. They aren't as fast as the ones that Tor made, but..." He didn't get a chance to finish, since Trice leaned over and put her hand on his back, stopping him.

  "They're able to become huge, and carry a lot more. The inside will also let you use it for longer term things I think, like a boat almost and they're plenty fast. Twice the speed sound travels nearly. Enough to go around the world in eighteen hours or so, if we measured correctly. I want one myself. Not that the ones Tor made aren't good, but having both could be convenient." She smiled and looked proud, as if that were part of her job now.

  Maybe to her mind it just was? Talk up the efforts of the future husband, even if it was all about something other than love or even an arranged bargain? It made sense, but probably wasn't needed in the room they were in.

  It was nearly funny, but Tor moved over and put his own hand out, as if expecting one as a present. Timon winked and handed it over and then passed one down the table.

  "That's for you, Tess. You'll have to learn to fly it, and I expect you to be very careful, but you're eight, so that should mean you're responsible enough for things like that. After all, you run deliveries for the company already." That was really for his mother, who had to be wincing at the idea of her children flying off at high speed, since it meant they might escape her clutches, but she managed to seem impressed and didn't forbid them from having them.

  Cutely enough, Taman scampered over and put her hand out. It was all he could do not to just hand her one, but thankfully Judy saved the day there, if in an odd way.

  "Nope. I can't see that happening. Your mother and father would hide us all if we gave you one of those this year. We do have something for you. I was asked to pass this along. It's from Guide." The way she said the words made it sound like it would be special, just for her and, when the giantess pulled the small iron ingot out and tapped the sigil, it was clear it was.

  A pure white flame generated in the air around her hand.

  "It's real fire, but it won't burn out. Won't burn the person holding the amulet neither. This is a new kind of weapon, but he wanted you to have it, to keep you safe." Flicking the thing off, she handed it over to the six year old, as if that made any sense at all.

  Taman turned it on and squealed a bit, holding up her small fist, a nimbus of death around it. She didn't leave it on, putting the ingot away before anyone could steal it from her. She was smart enough to know that her new toy could be taken away if she didn't use it right. Maybe even bright enough to understand it wasn't really a toy at all.

  Tor laughed a bit, which actually had a relaxed quality to it for once, instead of sounding like he was secretly baffled about the whole world. It got almost everyone else to follow along at the same time. It probably seemed strange to most of the adults that Guide, a fourteen or fifteen year old man would have sent such a thing for the little girl, but Timon knew that Taman had baked some cookies for him some months back. A Conserina doing something like that for a poor backcountry boy had a real impact. He probably wasn't even lobbying for a future marriage, like the nobles would think, but was just trying to be a good friend, and give her gifts that would be impressive enough to match her perceived station.

  With that, and some hugs being passed out to various people, a small group was able to free themselves without being sent to the kitchen to help with the dishes. Tor, being good to his word, stayed, and actually headed that direction to help Maggie with the next meal. The rest of his family was headed back to Two Bends, having a celebration with his oldest brother's family that evening. Tal and his wife had some little kids now, two of them, so it made sense. No one loved Noram Day like small children.

  Petra and Judy actually managed to find a task for themselves that would take them to Printer. From the hesitation at the start of the sentence, Timon realized that Petra was going to head there by way of County Ward first, most likely. That was fine, since the Count and Countess clearly weren't actual traitors. It was so obvious that they couldn't be that the ruse was most likely going to fail, but that wasn't his job to worry about, as long as they weren't going to get themselves killed doing it. Even then. They were adults after all.

  Gerent got ready to go around with him, but Count Lairdgren moved in and patted him on the back.

  "Sorry, but we need you back in Grenwyn for the celebration tonight. Everyone wants to meet you.
I won't order you to come, if it makes you uncomfortable, but it would be nice having you. I didn't know that you'd have plans..." Then he stared at Timon, with a smile that he clearly didn't mean.

  Tim waved his right hand gently.

  "I can muddle through, but I expect you for the wedding Gerent. You too, Grandfather." At least he really meant it with one of them. That didn't seem to be lost on the Count, who sighed and shook his head ever so slightly.

  That meant that, about fifteen minutes later, he had one of his new craft up, since it was more comfortable, and settled into the pilots chair with Trice along side of him, and Sherri Bonner in the back. She didn't explain why she was coming at all, but had moved with them when they walked out. It wasn't until they were halfway to Barony Coltress that he worked it out, based on the fact that she just sat, not speaking.

  "Oh, you're here as our chaperone? That makes sense, Trice being a well known wanton." He was playing, but his newly intended bride made a hurt face. It wasn't totally fake, which surprised him.

  "That's a bit mean, Tim. I may not fit your country rules perfectly, but I'm no worse than most that way. In fact I've been too busy to have a proper complement of lovers for a while now."

  Sherri looked away, clearly thinking that a real fight was about to start. It probably would have, if he cared at all about things like that.

  He didn't.

  "Well, you can sleep with anyone you want. I was actually thinking it a good trait, really. I'm not sure how Tor will react... You can probably get Gerent to go along with you. The man really needs to boost his self-esteem. I don't think he's adapted to his new position yet really." That got him to turn and look at Sherri.

  "Speaking of which, you should make a play there Sherilyn. He's older than you are and a Countier. Right now he holds the purse strings on about five percent of the wealth in Noram, and I think Tor is doing some magic on him to make him taller and probably fix some of his physical problems. If you get with him now, you can be in place later when everyone wants him. Plus, how often do you get to date a midget? That alone should have you knocking on his door later tonight, if you're an adventurous sort." His eyes stayed locked to the front for most of it, since he was flying, but there was no gasp or denial of interest from the back seat. It would be rude after all. Instead there was silence for a bit and then a rather rational answer.