The Builder tya-1

by P. S. Power

  “Well… I know Tovey well enough to say that he isn't setting you up or anything. If he accepted that you were just trying to help Patricia, then that's that. So at least that won't come back on you. Not that it really would have, even if it hadn't been her. Tove hates the combat rage, feels it steals away his free will. Handy in battle though. I mean the natural shield and the disorientation aura make him pretty much unbeatable in a battlefield situation. Probably why he wasn't hurt at all, his shield. Works for us at least, it would be hard for him to explain away a bad wound. He'd have tried to though, I guarantee you. Even if you'd crippled him to protect someone else. Thank goodness that wasn't needed. Trice doesn't have a shield, or even combat rage at all really, she's different… which is why she's spent years at the special academy. You… know what they do there right?”

  The question made Tor blink. Rubbing his tired and sticky eyes he shook his head.

  “Not… not really. I always assumed it was where assassins and spies were trained. I mean the kids there are always tough, right? And they don't exactly advertise who they are…” It made sense in a way, someone had to fill those jobs and they needed to get the training somewhere.

  Rolph shook his head and laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh, just a gentle chuckle. Standing he stretched his arms high and then bent at the waist, his lower back popping. Even as young as he was, being that big wore on his body. Rolph never complained, but it made some things harder for him. Worse, he was probably going to get another half foot taller, maybe more. His family, like the royals, often grew into their mid-twenties he'd said, a high merchant thing. At five-four Tor had about finished his own growth. He might make another inch if he was lucky. Everyone in his family was short like that and he wasn't the tallest at all.

  Looking down towards where Tor sat on his bed, Rolph kept going. “OK… I have this from, well, let's just say sources. Friends of friends and that kind of thing. Patricia backed it up, so it's probably correct. The special school is basically an intense survival course for kids of the rich and famous that might be targets of assassination or kidnapping attempts. About half of them are of royal blood and the other half might as well be.” Pointing at the sack on Tor's table, the one that held the clothes drying field devices, he nodded. “Sara Debri? The one you're in business with? Her mother is the head of Debri House. The largest merchant and manufacturing concern in the kingdom. If her mother likes your work you could end up with these going kingdom wide. But…”

  The news shocked Torrence more than a bit. The girl had seemed so nice, unassuming. To be a good person with something like that hanging over her head… Sure Rolph was OK, but weren't most rich people snobs? He'd met plenty of them at the school that treated him like trash for being poor. Maybe she didn't realize how low his station was. Well, she'd probably find out now. He laughed darkly, which got a questioning look from his roommate. Shrugging, feeling a little sullen after the hard night of work and then the events of the early morning, he explained, or tried to at least. Rolph shook his head.

  “Nope. She knows exactly who you are. Due diligence. She came around to check you out the morning after your first drying test. I told her, and Tricia all about you. Your work habits, how smart you are and how many brothers and sisters you have. Even that you could probably open your own bakery if you wanted to, so you aren't going to be easily trapped into a single financial agreement. Kind of impressed the hell out of them both you know. How many kids our age already have a fallback career?”

  Not, he told Rolph, that baking was hard. He'd had to help out in the shop since he was six or so, working at actually making the bread, rolls and specialty confections the whole time. There was no one to watch the kids when they weren't in school, so they all worked as soon as they could. Not a huge deal really.

  The big man shook his head.

  “Not a big thing to you, but I can't even make toast, much less bread. If I ever become poor I'm going to have to move in with you just to make sure I have food. Well, that or marry some rich girl. That might work. Sara's kind of cute, don't you think?”

  Tor shrugged. Of course she was cute. Rich too. All that just meant that she was just another girl that was too good for the likes of him. Just as well, she was too tall for him anyway. He tried not to let the thought become bitter. It didn't work, but he tried. That had to count for something.

  They talked for a while longer, on the third use of the name Tricia, Tor had to ask who that was. Rolph snorted, this time a little derisively.

  “The Ducherina Patricia Alyson Morgan. Known to you as Trice. Sometimes called Tricia in polite circles. Really only her close friends call her Trice. It's kind of a name from her childhood. Some royal brat of a Prince couldn't pronounce her real name right when he was a baby, so the name stuck. She seems OK with it.”

  Getting up, feeling stiff and sore as well as tired now, Tor moved to the beige burlap bag on his desk and pulled out ten of the copper plates, handing them over to Rolph. Tor smiled when he did it and mentioned that if he hurried and got them in the post that day, his mother would have them on her birthday. At least if he paid for rush delivery. the Capital was a few thousand miles away, so that could take a few days. Longer than that really, normally, but it was doable if you paid enough gold for it.

  “You should get some wrapping paper or some nice cloth to go around the ones going to her. Maybe with some pressed flowers or something like that? I know my mom always responds well to gifts like that. For that matter… I should probably send one home to my family as well. Wash for twelve people adds up, and in the rain or cold weather it's a pain in the rear to take care of. With this everyone should be able to wear clean clothes most of the time.” The words rambled and Tor knew it. Instead of commenting on that his friend stood up and took out a small chest from his foot locker.

  It was nice, dark wood of some kind with metal hinges and flowers carved into the top of it. The stain darkened the wood more in the cuts of the carving and it had that expensive shine that only things owned by rich people ever really had. When it was opened the inside was lined in red velvet. Nice. Tor probably couldn't have afforded work of that kind at all. When Rolph took four of the drying plates out and put them in the box, Tor got that this wasn't for Rolph, or even the present itself, but rather that it was the wrapping paper.

  Tor's breath caught at the luxury of it. At least she could reuse the box, Tor considered.

  “That… should impress her.” He said quietly, trying not to show what a bumpkin he really was. The cost of that box alone could have probably fed his whole family for a month. Maybe two.

  “I hope so. She… has friends that will see it, and not all of them are nice about such things. If I present it to her in any way less than perfectly, they'll talk. Bitches. Anyway, at least the gift itself is nice, and I know that no one else will have the same thing for her. Even dad will be jealous this time, which is a first, since he always gets her really nice gifts. Hey, any thought to the food drying idea at all? I'd love to send that one off next, if you get a chance to finish it.”

  Tor raised a single finger and told his friend that he'd be starting on it later that night, or early the next day at least, after he slept. A novel build like that needed clarity after all, which his foggy head couldn't provide at the moment. Rolph's eyes went wide.

  “Hey, I didn't mean… I mean, take your time… I know you're busy and all.” For some reason his friend looked scared suddenly. Not frightened as if Tor would hurt him, but a sense that things were moving faster than he'd thought they would. That's what Tor figured at least.

  It was fast. That kind of speed, if he could master it, could be the hallmark of his work maybe? A lot of new fields took a year or more to reach the first template attempt. That he'd worked on this one for less than a week was decent. He'd have done it faster if all the other things in his life hadn't gotten in the way. Oh well, that was life everywhere. Always getting in the way of the important stuff.

  The shield would
be harder to do. Much so.

  Every time he thought he had it, Tor noticed something else he needed to add to it or tweak a little so that it wouldn't leave him vulnerable to other kind of attack. Stopping dust in the air, or smoke, was good, obviously needed, since Kolb had witnessed Trice throw something in his face once already. That would almost certainly be coming in the test then. Tor would have added it, so he had to assume Kolb would too. But if he was guarded against smoke, what about fire? Or just raw heat? That could, he knew, be used as a weapon too. And he still had to figure out how to shunt force away from him. If he didn't then a single blow from any of the older students, and some of the younger ones, would just send him flying. Protected was good, but if he could be knocked around they could just toss him in the pond and drown him. He could swim, but he couldn't hold his breath forever while being held under.

  Some of that would have to be set aside he knew. He only had a little over a week left, and limited work time. He'd get the food dryer done and then work on that as much as he could. He just hoped that the test wouldn't be too harsh. Full battlefield conditions would be bad enough, but if Kolb got creative, he'd be in real trouble.

  Shaking himself he looked up to find Rolph looking at him with a bemused expression.

  “Sorry Rolph… Thinking about what I have to get done in the next week. Lots. Anyway, I have to get to class soon. That old guy, I don't know who he is, long beard, little stooped? Anyway, he suggested that I don't cut any classes, because Wensa has it out for me. Did you know she's some kind of secret guard here for the royals? She seems to want to torture a confession from me or something.” Tor shuddered. “The look on her face, as if I wasn't even human… Scary.”

  “Wensa? My accounting instructor? No… I didn't know that about her. Are you sure?” The tone was more than a little suspicious, it sounded angry. It was as if her accusing Tor was a personal insult to him.

  “Seems so, it's what everyone said. Well, I better go so I don't give her any ammunition to come after me with. It seemed like she's planning on being all over me. Too bad she isn't a little younger, then it could at least look like I was having fun.” Tor tried to grin, but it didn't really show on his face, he didn't think. The idea was just too unpleasant.

  Rolph did a double take, eyes going wide. The idea of Tor being followed around by a smitten Wensa ran across his face, clearly enough that even Tor could follow his thoughts from it, making the redhead bite his upper lip to keep from laughing. Then the larger boy turned beet red. He fought it, but he eventually lost control and started laughing. Sticking out his tongue, Tor threw his pillow at him, hitting Rolph in the head.

  “Hey, I didn't laugh at you when Martha Jensen kept following you around last year, did I? True, Martha's younger, cuter and has the decency to not want to kill you, but other than that, it's exactly the same thing.” He looked at Rolph sideways, facing away from him slightly. He obviously wasn't going to buy it. The laughter kept coming and didn't show any signs of stopping. Sighing Tor looked down at the floor, shaking his head sadly.

  Rolph waved and fought to speak. “Not that… Sorry, it's just… just that Wensa is always such a stick in the mud! If she does start following you around we can have a lot of fun starting rumors about it. Oh… That will show her not to accuse my friends of, you know… what was she accusing you of?”

  “Trying to make Count Thomson kill Trice, I think. She wasn't too specific about how this was supposed to work though. Maybe magic? I guess that could be done. Maybe. Not by me though. Kolb pointed that out to her. I guess I'm supposed to be an Austran spy or something? It would be a good trick, because I'm not even really certain I know where Austra is on a map. But that's probably what a real Austran spy would say, isn't it?” Tor packed up his school work. He didn't need anything for his first class, meditation, but the others would need his homework and notes.

  His friend went silent and stared at him.

  “Wait, she accused you of trying to kill Trice? When all you did was protect her, stepping between her and a man in full combat rage? I… That's..” The red he turned was very different this time going from red, to slightly purple and then into white. A subtle shaking started then.

  “Alright Rolph?” Tor felt suddenly worried. It was a difficult situation, but so far he'd lived, which was better than he'd expected a few hours before, so it shocked him that his friend was so obviously upset by that bit of news. Rolph didn't speak, instead he just packed his own things up and headed towards the door. Stalked might have been a better description.

  They went to breakfast together, but Rolph still wouldn't speak, he was breathing heavily and seemed angry. Really mad. Like he wanted to hurt someone.

  Leaning over Tor spoke softly, trying to keep anyone else from hearing him. “You do know that I didn't do anything right? I mean, other than what I said? I…” Shifting a little he scooted closer as a few people stared at them. “I'd never hurt anyone, even royals, if I could help it. And heck, I like Trice! Tovey too. If I was going to get the Count to attack anyone it would be Dorgal or one of his buddies. In fact it's not a bad idea, maybe I'll bring it up with him?”

  Rolph gave him a funny look and then chuckled, the mood breaking as fast as it came.

  “I know that Tor. But if Wensa pushes this there could be problems. Royal Guards, even ones that are hiding, maybe especially those, don't play by the same rules that everyone else does. If she thinks you're involved in this, then you may be in real danger. You need to be careful for a while.”

  Great, Tor thought. Because being a student wasn't hard enough, now he had some high level professional bully after him too. Weren't the regular ones sufficient? Really, Dorgal was doing a decent job of it so far, it was a bit unfair of the woman to horn in on his position, wasn't it? It seemed against the code of bullying ethics or something.

  He sighed and went to his meditation class. He tried to keep his eyes peeled for danger, but really, what was he going to do if something happened? A Royal Guard would just kill him, no matter what he did. Maybe he should consider leaving school altogether?

  Suddenly it seemed a lot better choice than staying and being either accused of being some kind of spy or assassin, or worse, just killed when he went to the restroom one night.

  Then again, if he left now, to someone like Wensa, wouldn't he just be confirming guilt?

  But what else could he do?

  Chapter four

  Not only did Wensa start following him around, she wasn't even attempting to be subtle about it. She even went so far as to start eating meals in the student's dining hall when he did to watch him. Instructors could eat there for free, so a few of them cut costs by doing that sometimes. She was even an accounting instructor, so the idea of her saving money that way probably made sense to everyone. Just demonstrating frugality to her students.

  Really, it was even a good idea, so at first no one noticed, but after four days of the older woman staring at him with undivided attention it became obvious that she wasn't just there at the same time by happenstance or because she enjoyed dry chicken and stewed beef slices in gravy.

  Even when he went out to test parts of his shield she watched him. Glared at him was more like it. Staring so hard he doubted she missed anything he did at all. Ever. It was annoying and more than a little scary. Tor started wondering if she was watching him in the restroom somehow too? Or the bath? He didn't really think so, but checked for spy holes anyway. More than once.

  The worst part came when Dorgal waited for him after dinner on the fifth night. The bully didn't normally stoop to eating with people like Tor and hadn't been at the meal itself, but stood right outside the door. Lurking, with a wicked look on his face, which was pretty normal for him, kind of a go-to facial expression as far as Tor could tell. He had two of his buddies with him, an older guy, Marko, who was a fifth year, Tor thought. The other kid, well, he wasn't a kid at all, older than any of them. Probably too old to be at the school, at least without a student to ta
ke them around as a guest. That man didn't say anything, standing at the back of the little group, taking pains to look menacing. If he wasn't trying then he had the worst case of sinister grin ever. He just looked angry, like he was about to attack without hesitation.

  “So, little Baker boy… I hear you have a new girlfriend.” The last word was said with amusement. Marko laughed, but the other man, well dressed in black and green silk with dark slacks and boots dark enough that the color couldn't be seen in the dim evening light, didn't move or smile at the lame joke the moron had just told. He just stared as if wanting to fight. His eyes were freaky, the part that should have color was almost totally black. It really stood out.

  It also didn't make a lot of sense. After all, if Dorgal had just hired a thug to beat him, he would have gotten someone low rent, not a finely dressed man like this. Why spend extra money on it, when the beating would have the same overall effect anyway? Maybe it was supposed to be a refined thrashing? But if so, shouldn't the fellow be acting a little more polite? The man didn't seem to have any obvious weapons and also didn't look tall enough to be royal, even if he was nearly a foot taller than Tor. About the same size as Trice or Wensa. Then again, all these guys were, or close enough to it that it wouldn't matter in a fight. The three in front of him closed on Tor menacingly, but didn't touch him. Not yet.

  “Answer your betters Baker boy, do you have a new girlfriend? A certain accounting instructor? She certainly seems interested in you… Doesn't seem your normal type… A bit girlish and short, don't you think?” He said the words as if they had meaning, but didn't explain what that might be.

  Wensa hadn't been a girl in a while and she wasn't overly short for a woman. Nearly as tall as a royal herself.

  Tor shrugged. Nothing he said would make any difference now. Once bullies started like this they wouldn't stop until someone made them or they got tired. He sighed and shook his head.