by P. S. Power
The woman nodded.
"Some will be opening soon. I know people there, since this is about when I get off work most days. Especially when ships are in port. The sailors have to get things done when they can, if they don't want to do each other. I never understood why they don't just take turns more, sucking each other off, but it works out for me, since I get lots of business that way."
The woman might have been simple, in her own way, but she could talk and kept a steady stream of fairly pleasant banter going the whole time they walked into town.
"Is it fun to fly? I always wanted to try it. Especially without a craft like yours. The old way. Can you do that?"
"Sure. I used to work as a delivery agent for my family business. One of them at least. I've also worked as a baker, and transporting people. That's what I pretty much do now." Even if he'd been doing something totally different the day before.
"I'm going to get a flying rig someday. I don't know how, since they're so pricey, but I will. Then I'll learn to fly and go away from here. Someplace where I can be more than Deidre the whore, and can start over. Maybe find some man and be his wife." She looked at Tim as if considering something. "Say, you don't need a wife do you? I hear I'm good in bed, and I can cook, some."
She didn't even laugh about it, her words serious and somber.
"I just got married a few days ago. She's sleeping in the craft. If you don't want to be a whore, why not get an ice manufactory like your sister has? Then you can move someplace warm and do that. Someplace that doesn't have one, where no one will know you?"
The dark skinned woman might have been a bit less than perfectly brilliant, but she gave him a look that could have boiled paint from a wall.
"No one is just giving those away. I asked. Martya said that I was best off on my back for the next twenty years instead of bothering to try for something that hard to get." She didn't seem upset that her sister was clearly being mean to her, just that it was too hard to do.
"Bull. Tor will give you an ice manufactory if you ask him for one. He's a giant pushover that way. Most people split the earnings with him, so he has more coin than he can spend. I suggest you send him a letter and ask for one. That or find Morgan from the Fast Transport service here and get him to take you to Lairdgren school to see him. I'd run you up myself, but, you know, wedding vacation."
The girl, who was a woman in truth, being at least twenty, didn't say anything for a while after that. She let him lead to the market and helpfully pounded on a few shop stand doors to get people to let them in.
"Wendell! Come out and sell us some fruit!"
The man that came out then was old, but smiled, his teeth white and gleaming. He had all of them. It was a sign that Warden had been covered in the healing device spread. Even the most common shopkeepers seemed healthy.
"Wha's this now? Who've we here? Deidre? Ya'out early today, ain't ya?"
"Yeah, this is the flying man, Tim Baker. He needs to buy supplies for him and his wife. I brought him to you first, since you're a friend of mine." She said the words as if they meant something and they seemed to, since the man promptly offered to give him a ten percent discount.
Apparently it paid to hang around with prostitutes early in the morning.
The store was a real one, not just one of the produce stands that he normally went to in the area. Austra loved fresh foods, so taking some in with him each time really helped to open some doors there. This place had other things. Flour and milled oats, which were needed for any kind of baking and morning cereals. Canned goods as well, the good kind in glass jars that let you see what you were dealing with even. That left a lot that was needed but was a good start.
Timon paid the man and got a bit extra, so that it would be worth his while to bother answering the door the next time that he wanted to shop that early in the day. Given his irregular schedule that would almost certainly come up. They were just outside the door and headed to the next place when Timon noticed that several men were following them. At first they held back a good ways, so it wasn't that obvious. Yes, they were being watched, but that could have been about anything.
It could have been that they just wanted to rob them or something like that. Maybe they were rapists? It didn't seem like they were going to have that kind of luck, from the way that Deidre stiffened up when she finally noticed them. By that time it was far too late to avoid being seen. They could still run, of course, since he had his Fast Craft on him. That would get them both away, but not without letting the men know they were being avoided. He nearly did it anyway, but shook his head as they tried to close on them, walking faster to catch up.
"Gentlemen. I don't suppose you came to help us carry our purchases? So, how may we help you today?" That earned him an angry look from one of the men, a sailor by the look of his drab and well worn clothing and cork boots. Timon just waited, not knowing what else to say really. If they didn't want to talk, or fight, then he was at a total loss as to what to do with them.
"That whore gave me leaking member! I want my coin back." The lead fellow had a decently intense look to his eye, his face hairy and unshaved, but in a way that showed no care had been taken at all. He didn't look very clean and the odds that he'd know which whore had given him any specific disease was low, in Tim's estimation.
Plus, it literally couldn't have happened. Not in the last weeks at any rate, since everyone in Warden had clearly been exposed to healing devices to stop the plague.
He didn't bother to explain that, even as Deidre looked ready to run.
"No. You got the service you paid for. Here." He didn't ask, just pulling out his healing amulet and starting it, his hand taking the dirty arm of the man in front of him even as his friends gasped. They knew what magic was after all, even if it was pretty rare in their lives. The fellow yelped, which got one of his friends to try and hit Timon from behind, which made his shield kick in. They left the girl alone, so he stared at the man with the small wooden club and greasy hair and then gestured for him to step back.
"Do you want your friend healed or not? It's going to take a while for his teeth to grow back in. This is a bit of a waste of my time, so if you don't want to be bothered, I can get back to my day..."
"Fuck you." This came from a man that clearly hailed from somewhere else in the world. Vagus by the look of him. He was a bit further back, and had a very heavy accent. He also had a knife out.
It was a nice and glittering thing, made of fine steel, from the look of it. That meant it hadn't been purchased in his homeland at all, since that kind of thing didn't exist there.
Timon shifted into Cantonese, and grinned.
"No, thank you. Put the sharp thing away. I'm just helping your friends. Your Great Mother, Red, is my Aunt. If you trouble me, I'll deliver your corpse to her, so she'll know whose spirit to curse." For some reason the rather strange looking sailor just stood there for a bit, then did as he was told.
The lead man looked baffled. Scared too. He was bright enough to put his hand back out regardless, not wanting to miss out on the free magic.
It took a bit and some persuasion for the others, but all of them were healed about twenty minutes later, the four men walking away without looking back, except the one that was from Lyn's land. It was probably an interesting story, the reason why he was so far from home, but it also wasn't something Tim cared about overly. After all, he was supposed to be shopping and wanted to get some things for the morning meal.
Deidre was clearly flagging, this being an unusual time for her to be walking around, but they hit six more shops and stands just as they opened, meaning they got some very nice deals. Most of it was fresh, but they got extra, since it was both cheap and he had a cold box for storage now, so it would keep longer.
He put up his fast craft about halfway through and started to load things in the back, driving it like a cart through the streets. That meant going no faster than a walk, since people stared and watched him, sometimes from the middle of the road
, directly in front of them.
The dark skinned whore just sat, as if she belonged there, not commenting until after they'd haggled for the last of what would be needed.
"That was pretty smart, healing those men. I don't have any diseases. We don't here in Noram, not sex ones. He was from Tellerand, I think. They have that kind of thing there and sometimes try to blame us, because their one god makes them feel bad about what they're going to do anyway. It's stupid, but I don't need a beating for it either. Sorry they made trouble for you."
There was a bit of simple charm to her words, even though it wasn't an apology at all. Just an explanation that it hadn't been her fault.
That was fine, for what it was worth, but Timon was feeling like he wanted to be rid of her already. It wasn't that she'd done anything wrong really, just that her stupidity pulled at him, making him feel annoyed and like she was a bother, instead of someone to chat with. Really, he kind of wished that he'd just waited a bit and gone shopping on his own. She kept talking then, because, like many slightly slow people, she didn't know when to shut up.
Oh, he got what was happening. Perhaps better now than he would have before Nora and all that. The woman was used to people treating her as precious, or at least smarter than she was, because most men found cute girls to be interesting. They were, if you wanted to have sex with them. The second that went away, or if you had a reason not to feel like that toward them, then their good looks didn't fix the rest of their problems. With Deidre it was a simple fact that everything she did probably lent itself to being trouble for someone, eventually. She wasn't the kind of person to sit back and let life happen after all.
She also wasn't bright enough to manage what came at her.
He actually felt bad for thinking that for a few minutes as they rode back toward the Ward's estate, not speaking. That was new. Really, it shouldn't have been happening at all. He recognized the idea from having been told about it before, and even that it had been happening to him, off and on over the last weeks...
"Tor. That jerk!" The exclamation got the woman next to him to go wide eyed, but she didn't ask what he meant. That was a simple response to how angry he suddenly seemed, no doubt. He felt it too.
It took a while, but he was able to find when it had happened, when Tor had a chance to work on him directly, changing his pattern. A few weeks before Noram Day he'd gone up to Lairdgren to see his brother, and stayed the night, sleeping in a room down the hallway from his.
It had to be then, because, as far as he knew, even Tor needed several hours to make things like that work. His brother had talked about the need for him to have a conscience. That he should feel guilt for things that he'd done, or apparently even thought, but Tim had expressly told him he didn't want that. Not at all. Who would?
Inside he seethed for a while his throat working as he both swallowed his rage and tried not to cry. It was too much and too unfair. It was also horrible timing. Was he going to start feeling bad about everything now? Like killing Nora Allan? She'd deserved it, but now he didn't know how he was going to end up feeling about it at all. He felt...
Violated.
Like someone was forcing their will on him, again. Without his permission. It was tempting to just take off right at that moment and go to confront his brother over the whole thing, but that wouldn't do any good. What was he going to do, fight him? Tor would just strip his shielding away, and lecture him about not being violent. That or beat him. It was the kind of thing he was famous for.
No, he had to do something that would make Tor feel bad, to teach him not to abuse their relationship again. Timon shook, but an idea started to form. It came slowly for him, but it was the kind of thing that his brother wasn't prepared to fight against. Intrigue. He had all the pieces that he needed, and a deep knowledge of where Tor came from, his preconceived notions and more, what would make him very angry, but feel like he couldn't strike back at all. There were so many things that would work.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, with him actually examining his thoughts over the last weeks, trying to make certain he was right and not just blaming Tor for things that were responses to being hurt and traumatized. Just lashing out wasn't a good thing after all. If there was no reason for it, then he could pull back and not be an insane person.
It was there. He could feel it now that he knew to pay attention. Not only had he been changed, on several levels, but his brother had done it to him, without even asking if he should.
It took a bit to load the craft with all the supplies, but there was handy storage space in the kitchen, so they didn't have to disturb any of the still resting people. About half of them had gotten up and left, by the time Deidre and he were back. The older man that had made a bed appear for instance, was gone, along with his instrument case.
The people at the front of the craft were too, since the seats couldn't have been all that comfortable really. Looking in he realized that both Trice and Countess Ward were still there, but they actually were sleeping still, so he put together a small meal for everyone, and then put a large table in the front area, for all the food to be laid out for people to pick at.
He still needed plates and silverware. He hadn't gotten any at the market. Bowls too. Pots and pans, as well as drinking glasses.
"Deidre, do you need a ride home?"
She hugged him, which made his skin crawl a bit. He knew she wasn't diseased, but the thought of that man's claims worked too well with his preconceived feelings about women at the moment. Blanking his mind he waited, but the woman just started to walk out, waiting for him to follow her. It wasn't far at least.
The woman had a place of her own, which was just a ways into the city itself from where they were, with some nice looking palm trees planted in front of the low, white colored, building.
"Across the way from the house. You can find me here, or there, if you want, for anything. I probably won't see you again, but it would be fun. You're a nice boy." The way she said it would have been an insult to most people his age, he realized, since it ignored his value sexually and that was clearly her point. She was teasing him, since he hadn't tried to get her to have sex with him.
He'd forgotten that his disguise amulet was still in place, making him seem older than he was. To her that probably made it a much bigger issue. Maybe not. She sold herself for a living, so probably wasn't that picky about who she worked for at the moment.
"You should see about writing that letter to Tor, or having it written." She probably couldn't read or write. Most people could, in the cities, but she really wasn't the type that anyone would have wasted long term schooling on, not overly.
She didn't mention it, but nodded, even if it was clear that she didn't think it would work. That was probably true, if she'd been dealing with anyone else in the world and not a push over, like his brother.
She climbed out, the smaller vehicle having a hatch on the right hand side, behind her seat. It was his normal silver cube, so a few of her neighbors came out to gawk at them as she did it.
"It was good to meet you, Tim Baker."
"Likewise, Deidre." He didn't know her last name. For that matter, he didn't know if she even had one. Some people just didn't after all.
As he drove away, floating above the ground in his magical vehicle, a thing that gave him power in the world that was well out of proportion of what even King's normally had, Timon felt sorry for the whore he was leaving behind him. She was too stupid to make it on her own and no one with the power to help her loved her enough to do the work for her. It made him feel bad for a while, even as he settled in front of a pottery store. At least he thought that was what the place was. There were cheap looking dishes out front and, after putting the craft away, he saw that inside there were nicer things, with fine glazes on them that made them looked both colorful and rich. He found some that he liked and looked at the woman that stood there staring at him.
"How much for these?" He waved at the shelf the green and black d
ishware was on, only to have the women laugh at him.
"More than you probably want to spend. Two silvers for a set of six. That includes cups, but..."
Timon smiled at the woman, who was nearly fifty and had a long face that wasn't all that attractive. Her work, if it was hers, was good. He pulled a gold coin from his little purse, the one inside his right hand pocket.
"I need pots and pans too. Metal by preference, can I get those around here?" That got her attention at least. It was pretty clear that she'd thought he was a poor workman. A youngish one at that. Looking down at his plain brown clothing he couldn't blame her. Gold was gold, and would spend, no matter who it came from, or what he seemed to be wearing.
"I... have some things here, but all in clay. Down the street there's a shop, owned by my father's brother's son. He's a bastard, but he won't rob you. You might check there." The inflection on the word and the lack of calling the man her cousin made him think that she wasn't calling him names, but rather mentioning that his parentage just wasn't certain.
"Alright, I'll take this set then and give him a try."
It was all just shopping and haggling for a while after that, but he picked up a lot of things that they'd need. The silver was pricey, since he got the real kind and a set of ten, which cost fifteen gold. It was the rest of the coin he had on him, but it wouldn't wear out instantly or anything. He could have it for years and then melt it down for the metal, if it ever wore out.
It was nearly eleven in the morning when he started fixing food, and, thankfully that meant that most of the people that had stayed the night were gone, so he didn't have to actually interact with them. He normally got along with people well enough, but the whole discovery that he'd made left him feeling edgy and a bit out of sorts. It wasn't just the sense of guilt, which wasn't that bad yet, but that it had been done to him. Like another rape.
The idea left him shaking, but he had that under control by the time that the sliced fruit and fresh morning bread was ready. He knew that in Warden people ate lightly, early in the morning. Bread and fruit mainly, most days. He could do other things too, naturally, but this would work for the time being.