by P. S. Power
Yes, drowning would keep him from being embarrassed. He steeled himself wondering if he could force himself to take a breath underwater, which he didn't think he could, so, reluctantly, he kicked back to the surface and sputtered a little. If he couldn't escape that way, what could he do?
Be embarrassed?
As good a plan as any for now, since death didn't seem a good option. Tor readied himself for pointing and laughing, and started to swim along with Petra. It took about five minutes to reach the shore, but then he really wasn't trying for speed himself and Petra didn't go that fast either, waiting for him to catch up.
As he rose from the water, ready to be mocked or at least giggled at, he was met by nothing but stony faces. Varley and Trice kind of looked ticked even. Because he'd gone swimming with Petra? All they'd done was swim, which should have been fairly obvious, she still had a suit on and everything. Kolb passed the towels to them after they got out of the water, so they could get dry, while Varley crossed her arms and glared.
At Countess Printer.
Trice stared at him, her eyes indeed looking lower than was comfortable, but she didn't smile or say anything. She had out her equalizing amulet and it turned a brilliant pink, but had a swirling black inside it at the same time. Whatever that meant. Affection and despair or depression at the same time? She hadn't been happy over all, he knew, losing an arm could do that, but this felt different.
Kolb moved next to Holly and a single chest, one that Tor recognized as his. In fact the one that had held all the little bags with thousands of golds in it, the one Sara Debri had given him that had rope marks on the top, dug into the wood and metal. They'd gotten there when they'd used the chest to save some kids, his left ankle throbbed in remembered pain from that event, but he walked to it anyway. He didn't expect it to have the gold. After all, that was something that people would likely steal, right? Or “borrow” if they found it there like that.
If he made a big deal about that though, it would be like blaming Holly for taking the stuff in the first place. That would be fair, probably, since she'd taken it, but would cause more trouble than it was worth. Really, Tor didn't blame people for making off with the gold. He wouldn't have, but most people seeing that much gold probably couldn't help themselves. He let it go and opened the trunk with a smile. No one else did, except Petra.
Maybe he'd at least have some clean underwear or a shirt that wasn't made of silk? Holly turned away as if not wanting to see his reaction. That or she was worried about his nudity. He had a towel wrapped around him now at least, a big soft one in a cream color.
Instead the chest was nearly empty. It only held three things when he looked in. The towel slipped a bit as he let go of it, holding the lid with slightly white fingers. At least that was soft enough as it settles on his narrow hips. Really it was better than the ones at the palace and certainly nicer than any he'd had at home or school. Tor had to drop into a deep trance to keep the anger from showing on his face, though his pendant still glowed a solid red.
Inside the case was his toothbrush, which should have been a good thing, but the bristles had been coated in a deep brown wax, the kind soldiers used to polish and protect their boots from water. He'd been around enough military people to recognize it, having lived with a few hundred for the last months. The stuff reeked, acidic and harsh smelling at the best of times. Next to that was a single boot, a military one that wasn't his at all. It looked to be several sizes too big and like it had been used by a dog or two as a chew toy. Last there was a single amulet, a light producing one meant for a house, that looked like someone had used a chisel to try and break in two, probably trying to double the field. That got a sudden surge of red from his chest that glowed brightly enough to cast a light visible even in the bright sun.
“They could have at least tried to use a cutter if they wanted to split the field! Who did this and what kind of brain damage do they have?” He asked, spinning on Holly angrily holding the amulet in his right hand so the Countess could see what he meant. She didn't move, but her body reacted as if she expected a blow. That would be silly of course. Sure he could hit at her, but she was wearing a shield and he wasn't. Even if she'd been the smaller person and he the giant, and the Countess wasn't an accomplished fighter, she still would have kicked his butt. Besides, violence never really helped, did it?
Seriously though, who tried to chop a field apart? They had cutters. He knew that for a fact, because he'd had several for personal use in his gear if nothing else. Tor sighed and went to put his clothes on. So angry that he didn't really dry very well and forgot to be embarrassed, facing them all as he did it. Holly kept her eyes downcast, which he could understand, since she was responsible for the training of the people that had done it. That… that butchery!
It wasn't the value of the light of course. Really, given everything that wouldn't make a big difference over all and technically County Printer was supposed to be buying all of them anyway. That included the ones they destroyed or lost. If she wanted to hack them all apart she could, technically. But it was just such a… bonehead move. Tor fumed about it for a minute but didn't say too much. It was too late to fix it now and the person that did it had probably figured out their mistake when it hadn't worked, right? He took several deep breaths and tried to hold his tongue. Acting like a jerk never helped anything either, just like violence, did it?
No, it really didn't.
Obviously if this was all they had for him, his things were gone. Tor literally had nothing. Looking over at the house up the beach a ways, he nodded to himself. A slow and considering movement.
That wasn't really true was it? He had his magic, and while that didn't get him food or clothes directly, he had a place to live that he could take with him now. That and some beach rocks and he could build whatever he needed pretty quickly. Maybe even clothes? Tor didn't know, but after sitting to put his socks on, hard to do with damp feet he discovered, and then his soft leather shoes, Torrance Green Baker decided not to let it get to him. He had a lot more than some people did after all. He had skills. Whining about all he'd lost wouldn't help him rebuild.
Struggling up he grabbed the chest and loaded the bottom of it with about two hundred small stones, selecting them carefully, trying to get somewhat round ones that weren't broken and about the size of a gold coin more or less. It didn't take long, and no one spoke while he worked. They just stared. Then he picked the chest up, feeling a little fatigued from all the swimming, since it had been unaccustomed activity, and carried it to the house. Everyone but Petra blinked when they noticed it, but she just followed him in, towel wrapped over her shoulders and still a little damp in places.
The quickest thing to do would be make up fields he already knew well, so that he could build up some stock. The stone was plain, but if he added glowing fields to them, that would dress them up some, right? He didn't even need to carve sigils that way, just make the marks he wanted glow on the surface of the stone. Duh. It was so obvious he kind of wondered why anyone ever did anything else. When he got to the door he left it open, his hands being full, even though the box wasn't that heavy, it was awkward for him to handle being large, so everyone followed him in.
Trice let her eyes go wide and went room to room with Varley. That took a while so Tor started sorting the rocks, some still wet, on the table in front of him. He made ten piles of twenty each, leaving him with seven stones in an odd pile.
The girls came out of the bathing chamber and sat at the table next to him, Holly standing near the kitchen wall the whole time, staring at him and barely blinking. Kolb actually putting his arm around her to… comfort her? Why did she need to be coddled? She held her left arm in her right and looked worried. Tor could kind of get that. His little glass pendant was still glowing a bright red. He felt more than a little pissed off at the moment. It wouldn't help anything, but he felt it nonetheless.
Her military might just be filled with morons, so that had to get to her, didn't it?
/> “Right. Not to be rude, but if everyone could leave and come back tomorrow… about mid-afternoon? Luncheon or later? I have some work to do.” He didn't say more, just collected up the first batch of stones, the odd group of seven, and moved to the back, towards the bed nearest the restroom door. It had a corner space and about five feet between it and the next bed. He sat and started working without waiting to see if anyone was actually leaving or not. It was just copy work after all. Tor wouldn't need anyone to feed him or do anything else either.
Hours passed and darkness fell. After the fifth batch Tor lay down and slept till morning. He used the restroom when he got up, which worked well, thankfully. He had to wash up in the ocean, but that worked for now, even if it did leave him smelling a bit like the sea and covered with salt. It made his skin pull a little as it dried, a funny feeling.
Somehow, rock beach or not, he also had bits of sand clinging to him when he moved, rubbing in places it ought not. While he was out he hooked the house up with water, which he had to direct using a single stone, aiming it like a force lance in reverse, because it was a special pump. It filtered the water though, so he could drink it, bath with it and use it for cooking directly. It formed a nearly invisible line in the air, about six inches across, from well away, about a half mile. That way the water should run all the time, tides or not.
Then he finished the next six batches of things before anyone even tried to visit, a long time before really, though Tor didn't have a clock yet. The rest of the early day he spent making stuff on the beach, using an incredibly strong compressor rig to fuse rocks into stone pots and pans, cups and some other things, boxes and whatnot. They were stone gray mainly, but without pores or air gaps, slightly slick and heavy looking.
Then he tried his hand at fishing in the ocean. That part… didn't work too well. In fact, filled with fish or not, he couldn't find anything. Not even giant bugs. Hunger and wearing the same clothes left him feeling a bit grumpy, and possibly a little surly, but then who didn't feel a bit out of sorts when they got hungry?
Well, the people in town might be willing to trade for some of the junk he'd made, right? That being was what it was for. He loaded up a little stone box, about the size of both his hands put together with fifty odd stones inside, and started walking. His first stop was the bakers, hoping the man would still want something and be willing to deal.
Tor felt hesitant, but the man beamed at him and started out by giving him a sweet roll, without even being asked anything. It was good, well made and sugary, better because he was hungry. They worked out a deal which heartened Tor a lot. For some temperature control units and lights that weren't red, as well as a water heater for his bath, the man opened up a line of credit, so that Tor could have whatever he wanted from his shop from then on. Providing it was open of course. Smiling Tor said he'd be back for a pie and some bread later. The man was happily playing with one of the lights and waved cheerily as Tor headed out.
The next shop Tor tried wasn't interested in what he had at all, or more likely, in him. The woman was older and seemed hostile from the beginning, her face hard and bitter, lips tight and angry lines, not even listening to what he was saying. She basically ordered him out, pointing at the door and looking ready to back it up with violence. Tor shrugged. It was too bad, because he could have used some of the clothes she had for sale. It was simple stuff, canvas clothes in a variety of colors, mainly gray and brown, but some brighter things too. At the next shop over, part of the same building in fact, a store that had simple metal goods, the man inside laughed as he explained what had happened with the lady merchant, and smiled.
“Well, you do look a bit disreputable, with the beard growth and all. Ethyl was robbed a year ago or so, thieves cleaned her out at knife point, weren't nothing she could do, so she's none too trusting of anyone now, especially if she don't know them. I may be willing to deal though, if what you have isn't garbage.” The man was polite enough, also older and, it turned out, both the local blacksmith and Ethyl's husband, Clark.
He was delighted by what Tor had, but didn't know if they could deal once he saw it.
“I'm afraid any one of those things is worth more than my entire inventory right now… Magic lights, in stone with a sigil that glows all the time so you can find it in the dark, and that even let you set how bright the light is? I could have merchants giving me their daughters for just one of those… But don't tell Ethyl I said that.” He winked wryly at his own joke.
In the end Tor made a strange bargain with the man. If he'd help him get some clothing, and other supplies, Tor would let him and his wife sell some things he made on consignment. It wasn't even a real trade for anything, just the right to try and carry the goods in their shop. They'd have to sell eventually of course, Tor knew, but if they didn't, he'd get the silver or gold for the useful things he got back to them. That wasn't part of the overt agreement, but it was what would happen.
No one helping him out would lose by it. Not if he could help it, not ever. They shook on the deal, leaving Tor feeling a lot better about the man suddenly. That he shook hands like a regular person, not going in for all the bowing and stuff of the nobles was heartening for some reason. It reminded him of home.
Ethyl stiffened when they both came back in a few minutes later, and she started to point at the door again, but her Clark smiled and told her to hush for a bit, explaining the arrangement. The woman finally looked at what he had in the box, a little skeptically, and lit up a little, her face going shrewd. Tor figured that if she wore one of the emotion tattling amulets she'd have just gone stark green. Well, she was a merchant and for them greed was probably a job requirement.
“Stone, and clear magic in the making. I've never even heard of a glowing sigil like this… The form looks a little like Tor's stuff. He's popular right now, so I can see why you picked it, how well do they work?” The old woman didn't wait for him to explain anything, just checking each one as he called out what they were. The water pump made a mess, from a bucket the woman brought out of the back, but the woman just laughed and clapped her hands when they got to the last one.
“Alright. You can have anything you want from the store and… would a ten percent cut be all right?” Tor was fine with that, but he asked what exactly she meant, not wanting to be taken by surprise. She intended to take a ten percent from each sale. Her eyes looked guilty and head dropping she offered to take five. Ah. That wasn't what Tor expected at all.
“No. Fifty-fifty. You make whatever deals you need to. Heck, give them away if you want. I'll trust in your business sense in this. Let me know if you need anything else, all right? I'm living on the beach in front of the Countess’s house for the moment… really you can't miss it. I'll be working a lot for a while, but don't be afraid to try and knock on the door if you need me. I may not hear it, part of the working trance, you know? But I seldom yell at people just for visiting. I may also just be gone soon. Other work… for the kingdom.”
Ethyl swallowed, but mentioned that they'd have to hire guards or something, or else they'd be robbed again. The man, Clark, gray haired and sturdy looking from all the work at the forge promised they would. Tor decided to just bring them back a couple of shields. It would be cheaper and was legal as long as he made a gift of them. In a way these were his people now, weren't they? Even if he didn't know them really.
Ethyl helped him select clothes and Clark came in with a shaving kit for him from his shop that had a door that ran between them. They insisted he get some “proper” boots, things that, they both assured him, would look right about town and last long enough to be worth getting. Under things came next, Tor blushing as Ethyl held them up to him. While not true giants, the merchants were big compared to him. Ethyl was about five-eight and Clark over six-foot, and broad, muscular for an older man. Tor felt like when his mother had taken the kids into Marie's shop in Two Bends as a little kid.
“Say,” Ethyl asked as Clark made a nice arrangement of glowing stone pendant
s and put some on leather thongs for sale. “You didn't mention your name. People will want to know who the young upstart giving Tor a run for his money.”
“Well, no competition at all really… I'm Tor. Torrance Baker. Sorry I should have said earlier.”
Ethyl went wide eyed like he'd just announced he wanted to marry a cow, but Clark held up a clothes dryer and waved it a bit as its distinctive “D” sigil glowed in a light lavender on the front.
“Obviously,” he chuckled and gave Tor a wink. “You kind of have to be someone, don't you? Normal people don't just carry things like this around with them all the time.”
They lent him a sack to carry everything in, and it fairly brimmed as he stumbled over the loose rocks of the beach toward his door. When he tripped for the third time Tor stopped and glared at the earth. Stupid uneven ground… Smiling at his own silliness he went inside and grabbed a compressor unit. It took half an hour but he made a nice, very smooth walkway to the mouth of the path that led to Holly's house, merging them almost seamlessly. He could chop it up later with a cutter, when he left. If the Countess didn't like having an extra little guest house or something. There were nine more of them. Actually, it occurred to Tor, Ethyl and Clark might like to carry houses like his. It was kind of cool, wasn't it? It could be that most people wouldn't want one, since they already had houses and didn't travel that much… All he could do was ask.
Looking up Tor realized that he was running out of time before luncheon, so he hurried to get cleaned up, changed and to the bakery and back before everyone showed up. Tor got in just minutes before they all trooped over, still looking grim and walking slowly. He greeted the girls with hugs and slapped Kolb on the arm.
There weren't enough chairs, so he just stood and served everyone else pie, on little stone plates he'd made and gave them all little forks of the same material. Gray, but smooth. He'd tried for spoons to, but ended up with little paddles instead, the bowl shape would have to be cut out with a special tool, a cutter with an arc in it, but that could be done. Later though, when he had spare time. The knives worked well though, he'd just sharpened them with a cutter. They looked a little unique, but what did anyone expect? It had only been a few hours since he'd found out he was totally without anything in the whole world practically. A single day. Tor thought he was doing pretty well to tell the truth.