by P. S. Power
“How did you fail me?” Connor sounded baffled.
That got Tor to explain the whole thing, after he finished the boy held out a hand to him, to help him up. He had to pull hard for it to work, and Tor appreciated it, because he was starting to stiffen up a lot more than it seemed like he would. He could barely manage, and had to move to sit as soon as he could.
“Thank you sir. But I cannot accept your apology.” The boy sounded scared, and a gasp went up around the room.
Tor got that, those words were almost always followed by a declaration of war or a challenge to a duel. Obviously Tor couldn't fight a child, so, depending on what was done, it could be a death sentence for him. Possibly even if the kid just wanted to punch it out. Tor really didn't have a lot left. Still, if he demanded his life for the failure, well, Tor could understand that. He tried to ready himself, just in case.
“Connor?” Priscilla sounded scandalized and totally confused.
After a few seconds the boy nodded, “I can't accept an apology for something that wasn't his fault. That's wrong too. It wasn't his fault and letting him take blame for it would be wronging him. I won't let that happen.” The voice was regal then. Not bold, not powerful at all, but there was a quiet dignity to it.
Stronger than Tor would have been in the same position by far.
Tor nodded to him. He was being released from blame in this, by the only person that could do it. That didn't leave him feeling any better, and the room still smelled of corruption and death, but it would have to serve. Tor stood and bowed.
Then suddenly sat again, nearly falling. Ouch. Everything was sore. It was just muscle pain at least, from pushing too hard like that. He'd live.
No one said anything for a long time and finally the boy moved to the woman next to him and hugged her like a small child. Which he was.
“Nanny, can we go and see the parade?” He spoke softly, as if he might not be allowed.
The Queen smiled then.
“That's not until this afternoon, but if you like you can watch with us from our box? It should have a fine view.”
The boy froze, then after a minute and a covert push to his left shoulder from Nanny, he bowed.
“Thank you ma'am, that offer is most welcome and kind.”
It was a bit of a relief for Tor when they left, to get a snack and rest after the trials of the morning, leaving him only with his family and friends.
Weasel shook his head and made a face.
“Remind me not to get in a shoving match with you, huh?” He grinned and gave Tor a small hug with a bit of back pounding.
“Can I have one of your fast carriages? If yes, is it all right if I make copies of it? I have an idea for a special transport service I can run out of school in Printer, if I can get a hold of one.” It was a blunt statement, and everyone in the room stared at the boy, not yet Twelve.
Tor shrugged.
“You can make copies without a template?”
The boy grinned and pulled a force lance from his pocket and handed it to Tor without pause.
It was still a bit of a risk, but Tor let his field brush it.
“Oh ho!” Tor would have jumped to his feet, but didn't. That would have hurt too much.
Everyone else looked at him, but Rolph was the one that asked.
“He copied it?”
“No, Rolph, it's not a copy. It's not a force lance even, it's… What is it Weasel? An air river?”
“Something like that.” The boy smiled but didn't break eye contact at all.
Tor sighed.
“It's a novel build. It's his too. He built it. Alone as far as I can tell. He hasn't even gone to school for it…” If there was awe in his voice, well, there should have been. That and pride, tears came to his eyes again.
Stupid tears, always making him look like a little girl.
“Builder Weasel.” Tor intoned seriously, tilting his head in a nod.
“Builder Baker” The King gave a half bow to the boy.
Then everyone else followed suit.
Tor shrugged again, which actually hurt a bit now and stretched a little, hands going up towards the ceiling, back arching for a bit. It didn't really help anything, but he still had things to do that day and wasn't really strong enough to risk a healing yet, so he'd need to just deal and that meant keeping in motion if he didn't want to freeze up.
“OK… Mom, I'm keeping Timon with me for the time being, so we can drill on building skills until he goes off to school. If that's all right? I'll have to attach him to the Lairdgren group for now, so that Lyn Cooper can watch out for him. She's solid, which reminds me…”
He shared the fact that a go between was coming to visit, for Lyn and that he could use a little help, being a bit out of his depth. Sure, Lyn had her own mother, but Tor had never met the woman and had a sneaking suspicion that she might not be a secret noble or high merchant, ready to deal with such things easily.
That got his own mother to volunteer her services. Kind of as Tor had hoped. She was bossy and overbearing, sure, but she'd protect a young girl that needed help. Or boy for that matter. Tor didn't doubt that at all.
He got up and started pacing, which got funny looks after a second, mainly from Connie and Karina.
“Oh, I'm getting stiff, I kind of pushed things earlier, I don't know if I can explain it…” He shrugged and then spread his hands.
Karina stood too and started walking with him.
“No doubt. I figured you'd just come up with some new kind of magic, to tell the truth. Fair after he pulled a knife though, so no one is going to cry foul. You didn't though did you? What did you do? Some kind of combat trance? I know that you freaked out the seconds, I've never seen any of them run from a field before, not even when someone has gone into a rage.”
Had he looked frightening? Tor doubted it. He smiled and shrugged.
“I paid them to do that.” He said simply. It was the truth after all. A simple bribe.
Well, a really expensive one, but it kind of worked.
Everyone laughed, except Rolph, “seriously?”
No one else was taking it as real, but Tor nodded and told them he really had. Just to freak out the Baron. After all, if the man got more scared, or even angry, it wouldn't make him a better fighter. What did he have to lose?
“Same reason for the casket and all the gold for Lady Priscilla. I wasn't planning on killing him originally. Just scaring him into either giving up or making a mistake. He did, but before that. If he would have just bowed and kicked my behind I'd probably be dead or in bed right now, thanking the universe for letting me survive.”
It was just the truth, but no one else seemed to get it. Oh well. Tor just asked if anyone wanted to go and make the rounds of events with him. After all, he had to keep moving and was, what, tenth down on the list of who was responsible for the day?
That got a laugh and a collection of people to go around with him, including a host of disguised Royal Guards, Rolph and Karina. They hit up his house and earned a few more people, and had a group of twenty going around before noon. Tor smiled and waved to people, and got a lot of hugs from women on the street for some reason. He stopped in to Debbie's bakery, which was hugely busy even before everyone tried to cram in.
“Tor!” Box called out from the back happily. “Come to rescue me from all this finally? I have to make another two hundred loaves of Postern bread, I could use the help…” He chuckled though, looking a lot like a tall version of Tor's own brothers. Actually Todd was nearly as tall, come to think of it, however that worked.
“Can't, I'm afraid, I have commitments, Hmmm…” He looked around the room and shrugged. Kari couldn't do it, since she was “working” later too. She was watching Box a little warily, though as far as Tor knew the man, a notorious woman hunter, had never more than casually asked her if she wanted to do something.
Still, if she was uneasy, it wouldn't do to force her.
“Weasel, care to lend a hand?” Tor hal
f expected his brother to either politely beg off, or whine, but instead he smiled and gave Box a nod.
“Yeah, I got it. Smells like sugar cranberry?” He said, his clothing transforming into what looked like homespun bakers clothing, a slightly poorer version of what Box himself wore. Just about perfect for a kid working in a bakery like this.
“Right you are, with dried cherries in too, a specialty of mine…”
They kept talking as they headed towards the back.
“Weasel, someone will be back to get you before dinner. I want you in with us, since Lyn's your new best friend.”
Then without waiting for an answer, Tor ran into the other room, if a slow, old man looking shuffle counted as running, and found Debbie. He didn't say anything, just gave her a hug.
“Hey, come by later? We never get to visit. Tomorrow maybe? I mean if you don't want to visit with us for dinner tonight. You should though. Box too. At nine? I won't be there though, so it doesn't count for a real visit mind, but it should be a grand celebration. Oh, do you know which house is mine? Otherwise you'll end up sitting with a bunch of strangers, instead of all my people…” Which were, of course, largely strangers to her…
Tor laughed, “Duh, just follow Tim there, my little brother? He's helping out in the bakery for the day.”
Debbie gave him a look, one that spoke of being busy and a little stressed, but finally let that break and hugged him.
“OK, you forced my hand. We'll come. This is the busiest Postern ever though. I blame you for that. Kari?” She walked over and gave the girl a hug, which got Rolph to spread his arms too, laughing.
“Debbie!” He called, sweeping her into his arms.
She chuckled, and gave him a hug too, but clearly didn't recognize him. Well, they had only met the once and he'd had a different haircut then.
From there, leaving his little brother they headed out, watching the events as they walked around the city, making a slow circuit that took hours, not even hitting half of it. Their trip ended up going out the south gate, near his house, since a lot of things had been set up out that way. There were people singing, Postern bread being handed out for free from stands set up along the way and plays that showed the spirit of the holiday.
That part was different from place to place. In Two Bends and that whole part of the kingdom, Postern was a day to celebrate family, with quiet contemplation and discussion being as common as not, or a host of sedate games, ending in a nice meal. Apparently in Ward it was done differently, since everyone from there, and the south in general, had set up in a huge empty building, one of the magical ones, that had a giant bonfire inside. Tor didn't even have to test it with his mind to get the idea.
It was a Guide-fire. Only huge. So a new build. It felt like the boy when Tor walked a little closer. Brilliant. It kept the space warm no doubt, provided light and ambiance, without the danger of setting anything on fire or troublesome smoke to get in eyes or lungs. Tor clapped when he saw it, but no one else really got why. After all, a magical fire didn't seem all that special in a magical house, but it really was. The boy couldn't have spent more than a few days doing the work after all.
Most builders couldn't have done it.
Musicians played already and people were doing odd group dances, the girls separated off from the men for some reason. It must be specific to the event, he decided, since the Warden people certainly didn't break off into groups like that for dancing at home that he'd ever seen.
Maria squealed and took all the girls off, coordinated their clothes to match, light blue dresses and bare feet, then led them all in a dance around a pole. It was cute, but Tor didn't get it. Still, the other men clapped in time, so he joined in. Things were always more fun if you took part. Rolph followed along, led by Count Ward of all people.
When they finished the giant man with his dark skin and annoyingly good looks shifted his clothing to only a pair of short pants and hollered to the room.
“There is no ocean, so to the river!”
Then they had to run. Not fast at least, or Tor would have been in real trouble. As it was he kind of had to limp along. Tor gasped a bit, but didn't have to float along, so decided to feel pretty proud of what he’d managed. The meditation on his own field really made a huge difference. He decided to try and keep that up as a regular practice, if he could.
At the river, they were supposed to jump in. Sighing, Tor did it. The water was cool at first, for a half second, then it was fine. Apparently they had to sing too, even though most of the men, about three hundred of them, that jumped into the water, didn't know the words. It was kind of fun anyway. After a while almost everyone was laughing and coming out of the water, then running back into the warm building. Tor didn't feel the cold, neither did the others with him.
Rolph slapped Tor on the back as he walked back in.
“So what next?”
“Maskers. I think. About that time.”
“Oh? Well that sounds fun!” The Prince looked at everyone around him and laughed, since all the men were soaking wet still.
It really did look funny. Like a herd of drowned rats or something. A pack of rats? Honestly Tor didn't know.
Tor cycled his clothing a few times, causing most of the water to fall off. It absorbed a bunch of water and then let it go each time the field shifted. It made the ground wet, but no one cared. A few people did the same thing and that got some attention from the others. At first Tor wondered if people thought he was showing off, but then he overheard someone say his name and everyone in the crowd stared for a bit.
“Darn tough. I'd be hiding in my house shaking after that. Bit cold though.” A man said, from the back of the crowd.
They were always at the back of the group, those people that muttered things like that, Tor had seen it before. Heard it. He waved towards them.
“Not tough, and you might find yourself stronger than you think, when it comes down to it. But I have responsibilities today. Can't let that go just so I can shake and shiver. I plan to do that later though. It’s all just a matter of timing.” He smiled when he said it, but no one else said anything about him being there at least.
They climbed into carriages, the old style ones, drawn by horse, to get back to the palace in time for the parade of Maskers to come by, all wore different looking face masks, some decorated heavily, a few in all white, some with smiles others frowns and one was simply a blank white piece with eye holes.
They did a play that stopped and ran around the whole of the city, each group moving on as their scene was done, all the scenes the same short snippet of time. About thirty seconds, then they walked for a minute and did it again. But if you stayed in place, you saw the whole thing. It was the story of the first Postern day.
How a man all in green saved the land of Noram from the great cataclysm for his friend, a giant in purple and gold. Then the giant ruled, and ruled, the years passing by. Other stories were worked throughout. Even the tale of Doretta and Count Wylde. There were a couple that Tor didn't know at all, stories that made the royals smile or nod to each other, but Tor just had to smile and laugh when everyone else did, because it didn't make sense to him.
Then over six sections, the Maskers from Galasia did their version of “the saving of the city” apparently adapted from the children's play. The one in which the mean little troll Tor had to be bribed, cajoled, begged, and in this one, berated and mildly beaten by Sara Debri to impart the magical devices which cleaned the city's water supply and in this new version, conned into fixing the city’s sewer system by Ferdinand Gala. It involved a pretty clever trick and the substitution of a straw filled dummy for his own daughter, Meryl. The little masked troll seemed happy enough with her.
By the time the sixth and final second moved on everyone in the royal box was staring at him. He wasn't in that section, choosing to sit with his mother and the Wards, who seemed to have hit it off for some reason. Possibly plotting to get him.
At least Maria was championing h
im.
“I can't believe they did that. It's…” She shook her head, and for once instead of claiming someone should go to war or anything like that, she just sighed and shook her head.
“If nothing else they should pay attention to who's paying them, don't you think?”
The Count looked over his shoulder and shrugged.
“I think they are, actually. Think about it, how many plays are there that have Tor as the main character? They probably picked up that this was all being paid for by him and just went with the only one they knew of, to honor him.”
Tor's mother laughed though.
“Ah, ah… You'll give him a big head. I'm sure they just thought it was funny, which to anyone that knows my son, it truly is. After all, a troll? And needing to be begged to help people? None of my children would be that cold and Torrance is always generous to a fault.” She didn't sound displeased by any of that, even if she was talking about him as if he wasn't sitting right there.
It always bothered him when people did that. Which she knew.
Tor didn't say anything though, because everyone else was having a good time, why spoil it? Tor just forced a grin and shrugged.
“What? I have the dummy in my house. I call her “Missy Gala”.”
Everyone that could hear him chuckled politely at least. Maria sighed and touched his arm gently.
“Best troll ever.” She whispered, not unkindly.
After the parade a carriage flew over the city, followed by seven more. Slowly, like they were landing at the palace itself, instead of in the street in front of it, behind the Maskers procession. They were all done in purple and gold, the royal colors. After the first one settled the others did too, in a line, a single file of crafts in the street, then Kolb and his people all climbed out, a single, much smaller, figure with them.
Denno Brown.
He was dressed in brown, but the clothing was fine, incredibly so. After a second Tor got that, understanding magic or not, the man was dressed in clothing from a device. Well, that could only be good for him, couldn't it. Branching out like that?