by P. S. Power
“It's the baths! Flooding! The ships sinking!” The girl, Dara he thought her name was, screamed. It got everyone to wake up and come to the hall quickly enough. Tor was already padding down the hall, glad he at least slept in nice tan silk clothes. At least that night he did. There was water on the floor to be certain. Three foot deep. It wasn't a big deal yet, the door had steps going down in case of spills which would buy them some time.
Sizing up the situation he got it without too much trouble. Being creative people they'd taken a plate from the kitchen, focus stone in a deep red-black, so military issue, that had probably carried cake back to a room, and covered the drain on the floor, noticing that the whole room, about a hundred foot on each side, could be turned into a pool by blocking it. It worked pretty well and they found the room filled a bit faster than they'd realized it would. No big problem, except the plate had gotten stuck to the floor, the water emptying under pressure from the bottom and all that water on top… They couldn't move it at all.
Great. Well, good to know that would work if they wanted to go swimming.
The water moved in fast, it had probably filled the whole space inside half an hour, with the drunken giants running around desperately missing the sigil that would turn it off, once they realized they wanted to stop the flow and couldn't, they'd freaked. That part of room was already under water, meant to be used while sitting down in a tub. Tor sighed.
Stupid drunk giants.
“Alright. First lesson about magical devices? Anyone? No?” Tor didn't know why he bothered, but he was wet past his belly button and a little sleepy still. He looked at the people gathered in the doorway and finally Rolph, his short red brown hair, more red than brown now, raised his hand like in school. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes.
“Yes, Mr, Cordes?” Tor said dryly, tilting his head with a wry and slightly disgruntle, smile.
“A sigil is only an indicator so that people can focus their intent and it's not really needed?”
“Exactly. So, the water?” Tor gestured to him and after a moment Rolph closed his eyes, concentrating and slapped the wall. This caused the water to shut off instantly.
“Yay. Good job. Everybody here got that, right? Because there will be a test later. There always is. Now everyone on early kitchen duty, memorize the faces of these four, since you get to boss them around all morning, get that and go get some rest. Anyone not on that detail, jump in and help me move this plate please? This is going to be a pain without using magic.” Grumble, grumble, Tor thought, working his way to the drain, the water nearly to his upper arm even as he stood upright.
It took an hour and a half, but one of the Royal Guards slid it off to the side somehow, ducking all the way under the water and working the plate back and forth with nearly superhuman effort. It was just enough to start the flow, two hours after that they managed to slide the plate all the way off. Then the room cleared of water in about twenty minutes. Tor remembered who was in the water with him the whole time and sent them all off to bed. It was tempting for him too, but he had to get to work soon or breakfast would be lunch and then people would complain about the poor service and he'd have to sternum punch them all.
Karina had said so. That made it kind of a royal edict, right?
Only they mainly had shields so it wouldn't work.
He made himself clean up and shower before going in. If you touched food, you had to be tidy. It was a psychological thing as much as to prevent disease, at least with him. Tired and clean beat tired and dirty any day, if you got the choice, right? Tor went through the motions well enough, even thought a slightly ill feeling ran through him, starting at his head and working down to the pit of his stomach. Just tired, Tor thought. He'd never gotten sick in his life and really doubted anyone had been poisoning him here. They needed him to make the food.
Plus… he'd made all the food and was the only one handling it. No one could easily poison just him at least.
In the kitchen he found a still sleepy Trice, David, and Karina waiting. Bless them. Pushing into action as fast as they all could go. It felt like it took forever, but the late night prep paid off and they were ready to feed people by eight. Later than he liked, but no one complained about hunger pains yet. As he ate sitting next to Mutta, she rolled off phrases and terms in Afrak, some pretty complex. Tor paid attention as he could, but knew that he wasn't doing what he should be on the task. Sighing he turned to the woman.
“Oh, sorry Doctor Mutta, I'm sleepy and I think I missed that last one. Did you say that “fork” is literally “food stabber” in Afrak? Or am I just not getting the words right?” He waved the implement in question. He said it all as she'd been instructing, except fork, of course.
“That's right. “Food stabber” very good! I didn't think you'd have more than ten words of my language yet, but you sound almost fluent already.” Her voice was excited.
“Really? All I'm doing is trying to pay attention to what you're saying. Hey, do you think you could work with me on this during lunch too? I know it can't be that interesting for you. I must sound like a four year old, but it helps and I may need it. Ambassador and all that.”
Next to him, absently munching at a cinnamon roll Petra cocked her head at him.
“I didn't know you already spoke Afrak.” She said in Noram standard.
“I kind of thought you were just learning last night, to tell the truth.”
Ambassador Mutta laughed and told the new Captain that this was Tor's third lesson, saying it in Noram standard for her. Petra smiled and kept eating. Either she thought it was a joke or cute of him. He hoped for cute, because he kind of wanted to spend some time with her later. Or Bonita. She was on board, but had been spending all her non-meal time with Rolph. Sigh. Well, as long as she was happy and his friend was pleased, that should be enough for him, right? Still, if he saw her he was going to try and break her free for at least a chat. Tor missed her company.
At lunch Mutta, which he learned meant “gray” in Afrak, started to read to him from a book. It wasn't a story, but a complex science codex. He had to stop her every few seconds to ask questions, some about complete concepts that he'd never even heard of before. The text was about medicines based on animal products, things genetically altered to be of use to humans by a portion of the Afrak community. He got that “genetic” meant “life instructions”, but it was also clear the physical bits they were talking about weren't the whole story as to how things worked. Finally he stopped her and asked a question about it, which caused her to draw back a little, her robe, something made from magic itself, suddenly flaring pink. She didn't realize she'd made the change without thinking, but then magic was a new idea to her, wasn't it? Tor kept himself from shaking his head.
“Do some of your… people that do genetics, get better results than others, while some people can't seem to get any at all, even though they're doing the same things physically?” He looked at her hard, having asked in Afrak. It was still a little rough, and he definitely had a Noram accent, but she nodded, clearly able to understand his meaning.
“Yes… We don't know why it is, and select out for that during training, but it happens. Why do you ask?” Her voice was curious rather than annoyed at least.
It was only a guess, Tor told her as he collected his and her plates and bowls to take to the window where Dara, and her hung-over giant friends, were taking in dishes for cleaning. It was just that magic rested a level down from where the Afrak worked and part of the instructions for life were held there, if those didn't change, then the genetics probably wouldn't do what was wanted as often as it seemed to.
The best doctors were probably influencing things magically without knowing it. That was all. Most people did it all the time, the effects were just too small to easily notice. Magic itself wasn't unique really, it had its basis in how the mind worked. Everyone’s mind, and the mind wasn't separate from reality after all.
“Just a guess though. If I could see it done, later, when
my own field repairs itself more, I could tell for certain. I think so at least.” It was a pretty small and fine part of reality to be working with, so maybe not. It would be fascinating to try though. Tor kind of wanted to drop into a meditative state and see if he could do it right then, but realized that then he'd have to slam his head into a wall for being stupid and using magic too soon without a very good reason. It would have to wait.
That changed how Mutta treated him for some reason. Drastically.
Instead of casually reading from her book she began to drill him nearly constantly on Afrak and biological science. It got so bad that he woke up one night having dreamed that she was doing it in his sleep, slipping into his room and murmuring next to his head. She hadn't, but he woke with a start anyway, covered in a light bit of sweat.
“What the heck was that?” He murmured out loud. Tor didn't know for certain, but it felt like his deep mind had decided to give him lessons in his sleep too. Grand.
As he drifted back to sleep it occurred to Tor that he'd been speaking in Afrak, thinking in it too.
For all that he had a private room, which was kind of nice in a way, he kept missing all the women in his life somehow. He baked and cooked with them, saw them all at meals even, but when he had a few minutes to spare they'd be gone. Finally after dinner on the fifth night out he saw Ursala just sitting at a table and reading.
“Finally! Someone. And you're not even speaking Afrak! Talk to me, please?” Tor asked a bit desperately. Mutta was a saint to work with him so much, but he needed a distraction for a while and this was about the only time he had for it. He'd heard other people talking about being bored, but he didn't see it. There was so much to do. Cooking, baking and cleaning, learning Afrak and stretching for a few minutes before bed so he wouldn't freeze up totally. He should go and practice with the people on the deck after lunch, but he had to make time for it… Maybe Mutta would continue their lesson up there while he fought? It wouldn't work well, but if he didn't get some kind of exercise soon he'd start going soft.
“Does sex count as exercise?” He asked abruptly, but it got her to smile and set the book in her hand aside.
“That depends on how you do it. Want to try?” She seemed interested in helping with that chore, so he nodded his head seriously.
“As long as you talk to me while we do it. In Noram standard preferably, since you can't speak properly. Backwoods I mean. But you could pray at me in Tellerand right now for all I care.”
They actually went up on the deck and at first he thought she was proposing they have sex against the railing, overlooking the ocean itself. It was a little more public than he'd like, but he had to admit, it would get the heart racing. She was just leading him to her room though. It was bigger than his by two thirds and had a huge bed in it. He hadn't been in it physically, but the layout was familiar, having come from his thoughts originally. No one else seemed to notice, but the whole ship felt like Tor. Even the kitchen and restrooms were built to his standards, not anyone else. He'd made the facilities a bit bigger, knowing giants would be around, but that was all. Ursala hit her clothing amulet to turn it off and told him to pick her up and fuck her while she faced him.
Given their sizes it shouldn't have worked at all, but he found he could do it, especially as she chanted naughty encouragements at him to go faster and not stop. Finally, spent and panting after twenty minutes they fell on the bed together.
“Not bad! I must weigh fifty percent more than you do, but you didn't even slow down. God, you're stronger than you look, you know? Anyway, catch your breath and we'll start the next part.”
Tor had to give her a funny look, since he couldn't speak yet. There was a next part? Well, he'd try. Hopefully it wouldn't kill him or anything.
They slept together in her bed that night, and in the morning he woke already aroused. She chuckled and used her hands on him, since, she assured him, it would be faster that way, at least the way she did it. Her fist blurred at times and pleasure ripped through him, but he was able to get to work on time.
Then, of course, the old schedule resumed with a vengeance, since people were starting to get restless and didn't want to help with cooking duty any more. On the eighth day no one showed up to help with dinner at all. Looking around the empty kitchen he almost just dove in and tried to struggle his way through, but then realized that if he did that, people would keep missing their shifts, just dumping everything on him. They didn't have a cook or baker, or any other crew except the fighters and Royal Guard, and he was trying to make it all work, but really his main job right now should have been getting ready to build rivers and being an Ambassador. Shrugging he decided it was passive aggressive mutiny time then. Really he wondered if most of them would get the idea, but nothing for it but to try, right?
Tor made a large pot of oatmeal, one of the giant pots that he could barely lift when full, toasted someday old bread, and put out honey for it. Then he made half a roast fowl for Mutta with elaborate trimmings and fixings. She was an Ambassador and didn't fall under his ire on this one after all, no one expected her to wash dishes or cut vegetables. They better not at least.
Plus, really, also being an Ambassador, he wanted to remind her how he should be treated once they got to her place. Good food and attentive care. It probably wouldn't happen, he knew, what with him being male, but it was worth a shot.
The way people yelled and grumbled you would have thought he'd kicked them in the collective groins. It was a thought, but since any one of them would probably kick his butt without thinking, a few just by falling on him, Tor decided to save that option for later.
“But…” The big scary Baron sputtered loudly, “I hate pottage!” He cried piteously enough that people made sympathetic noises.
“Oh? Good then. This is oatmeal cereal, not pottage, that would have slivers of sugared meat in it.” He grinned when he said it, but the large Baron didn't seem placated for some reason.
Tor pointed out softly, not raising his voice at all, that no one had shown up to help, so he figured to everyone was bored with eating interesting food and just wanted something plain and wholesome. In other words what they were getting from now on unless he had help at meals. There was a return trip too, he pointed out casually, gesturing at his own bowl of oatmeal with his black focus stone spoon. A few of the wooden chairs scratched on the floor, but no one spoke. From the glares he was getting from nearly everyone it became plain that no girls were magically going to find his bed that night either. He considered announcing to the room that he'd like some company just to see what they said, but realized that might be taken as an invitation to poison him, or stab him in his sleep.
Trice made a big circle in the air with her spoon and dug in, liberal dollops of honey on the top of hers.
“Actually this is really good Tor. Thanks.” She took a big bite and smiled at him.
Everyone else glared, except Mutta who just started coaching him in Afrak again. She was a hard and driven instructor, but he had no doubt he was learning more than just how to speak her tongue. His knowledge of biological sciences had increased a thousand times in the last days, going from something around “things breed and have babies” to understanding that small changes in the information that make something up, when copied thousands, millions, of times and allowed to grow can make complex and lasting changes to a developing creature.
Or field, his mind put in excitedly.
It made sense. What was a living thing but a growing and evolving field of information that organized physical properties? Could that be adapted to his building work? It would be a little slower, but what it took from him, the effect on his field, would be less too, and he could have a lot more novel builds going at once. It was worth a shot. Unfortunately he didn't have any growing plants on board to look at, and doing more than searching how a plants field worked was silly right now. Using another human would take too much time and have effects on him too. Probably.
The next morning he found
a half dozen volunteers waiting for him and rewarded everyone by making egg toast and sausages as well as eggs and just to keep things sharply in mind for everyone a small pot of oatmeal. No sweet rolls, but no one dared speak about it to him, if they spoke at all. Heh. Well, it seemed like someone had gotten the idea at least. Probably Kolb and Wensa.
Then, the Royal Guardsmen hadn't complained about the food the night before, had they? No they just ate it, without even making faces.
It took longer to make the southern port than he'd figured it would, ten days instead of seven. When he asked Petra about it she grinned.
“On the way back we can make it a lot faster, a few days probably. I went slow to kill time and get people used to being on board. Plus, how often do I get to play sea Captain on a real ship? I had to pull rank just to get people to leave you alone so you could study with Ambassador Mutta though. The girls kept talking about sneaking you off and having their way with you. Not just the ones you know either. A couple of Royal Guards actually had a plan in place to nab you after dinner a week ago. I'd have been in on it myself, but I actually have to steer this thing between meals. If you help pilot at night we can make it back way faster. I've been going dead while I sleep. Short shift on it, but still…”
He kissed her, and told her that they'd make time for sex if he had to come and do her while she drove back. Petra told him it sounded fun and made him promise.
They laughed, because they both knew they weren't doing anything of note in Afrak. Mutta had flat out told him that people would freak out if anyone suggested that anyone ever had sex outside of marriage. Tor passed the word to the commanders of their separate groups. If they weren't careful half the crew would end up married. Fine if that's what they wanted, but awkward if some guy or gal thought they were just getting a little friendly and exotic sex only to find they were expected to set up house permanently. It would look bad if they lost a big chunk of the crew after all and Tor wasn't going to let them escape the duty if it came up.