The Dark Half of the Sun (The Young Ancients: Timon)

by P. S. Power

  After a tense few minutes he saw the lights, and that resolved into being a decently large city. The giant didn't leave his seat, but he did slide forward to point.

  "See those seven blue lights? That's my garden. Just sit down there and we can do the rest. Thank you again." There was a rustling sound from the back and a large hand hovered to his right. "Do I just give this to your man here?"

  Timon couldn't take it, not and land at the same time, which he had to do slowly, since the ground was just barely visible.

  "Yes... Please... Have us down in a few seconds." He remembered something, which he hadn't bothered thinking about before then.

  "Abby? Will you need to be picked up in the morning? I'm leaving at seven, but I can come get you before that if you need."

  They were just settling down when she moved on the door to the side, opening it and tugging on the Counts giant arm.

  "I don't know. I don't have any transportation otherwise. This could be some days. I need to stay as the patient recovers as well, if possible." She was just about to jump out the side, which was nearly ten feet up.

  "One second. I'll be back in three days then. If I can't be here, Morgan will come for you. Right Morgan?" It was heavy handed to push the man, but he looked at the coins in his hand and nodded.

  "Three days ma'am. You can count on us."

  Then she was gone, a rather surprised seeming sound coming from the giant Count as they moved toward the well lit mansion. It wasn't a palace maybe, but it was pretty nice for all it was only a tenth the size of Tor's house.

  "Let's shift places then Morgan. Do you think you can mentally shoot a straight line back to the King's Palace? It doesn't have to be exact, but it's a good skill to practice."

  Timon just stood in the back for a half minute, while the other man got situated, it gave him time to look at George, who seemed in good enough spirits. Morgan had his right fist out, and once Timon moved close he dumped several coins into his empty hand. Five of them. All gold.

  "Well, that's a bit more than I figured on. I said a gold and a half didn't I?"

  It was George that answered , his voice low and unhurried.

  "Yes. You also got him back to his doorstep in twenty minutes, which is a trip that would normally take nearly five days by carriage or several hours if he had a flying rig, which I know for a fact he doesn't. Then you made arrangements to get the doctor back home after. I know he gave you the coins first, but it's impressive. Especially since you came from your own party for it." He reclined a little, obviously enjoying the large soft seat, stretching back a little. Morgan took off, hovered about five thousand feet up and then started back toward the Capital city.

  "Right. My party. Is that why the questions at the gate were about how we all felt about the King? That was decently clever. Not questioning anyone's loyalty really, just making certain everyone that showed up felt decently friendly toward the man." He didn't add the rest, but George looked at him blankly.

  "I don't know what you mean sir."

  Timon rolled his eyes and looked out the front for a bit. The night was black and blank below, but there were stars and if he paid attention the occasional flicker of a camp fire. Above him the sky was a deep blue color, with a million stars in it. He stayed in the back, watching Morgan fly. He was a little tentative on the controls, which meant it took about ten extra minutes to get back, but he found the Palace nicely and gently lowered them in front of the door they'd ran out from.

  "Great job Morgan. Perfect landing too, nice and slow, just the way the Royal Guard likes it. Anywhere else you can go faster, at least during the day. At night it really is about perfect though. Oh, here. First weeks pay in advance." He pulled out a coin, then sighed and got two, and slid them into the man's hand. "Plus ten percent of what you bring in per trip. So you understand, if the trip is one that doesn't bring in coin, this will help keep you and your family fed. It isn't where you'll make your real gold though."

  "Some trips won't make anything?"

  Timon nodded, cycling his outfit after he stepped out the side hatch.

  "Right. Like picking up Princess Abby. She's family, so normally she wouldn't pay anything. The same for the rest of my family, or yours. Family is free and you can make deals for lower rates with anyone. Basically if you feel comfortable losing your ten percent, then it counts. If you just give away free rides though and don't make at least two gold in a week, well, then you won't get that either, so try to earn at least a little, now and then." He smiled at the man, who shook his head.

  "If I tell my wife she can go anywhere she wants for free I'll never see her again."

  They laughed as George tilted his body, signaling that he wanted to go inside. That made sense for Timon too, there being a party in his honor inside and all that. They walked the hall quickly, heels smacking stone floors smartly. No one stopped them, which, he realized, probably had a lot to do with why George had come with him in the first place. He was his ticket back in to the building without being harassed at the gate.

  Somewhere in the whole thing they'd wasted a little time, since dinner was just being called when he got back. It took a bit of clever maneuvering and the help of a server that almost certainly had to be a Royal Guard in disguise to make it all happen, but he found his place near the middle of the long table, next to Farlo on his left, and a decently pretty auburn haired girl on his right, who was sitting next to a giant that looked like he ate the hill people for fun.

  When he sat she turned and looked at him frankly, her eyes blue, like many royals were for some reason. It took a second to catch on to who she had to be, but he worked it out he thought.

  "Princess Veronica?" Hopefully he'd gotten it right. It would be embarrassing otherwise. She looked like the queen though. Not the King at all however. Honestly she looked like she could be the child of the queen and his brother Taler. Darker hair than the queen and slightly finer features. Lighter in complexion too.

  "Right you are. This is my husband, Count Peterson. Raul Peterson. Call me Varley, please. All my friends do."

  He introduced Farlo then, realizing that the two girls had to be about the same age, more or less. The Princess was very fascinated with the Lairdgren group and what they were doing it turned out, and managed an invitation for herself and her Count to visit the school in a few weeks. He just listened, trying not to drift off. It was hard, even after the food came. About half an hour into the whole thing he did anyway, which got the hard looking servant in his green outfit to poke him in the back while pretending to offer him some water. He wasn't being offered wine he noticed, which was a brilliant idea. He didn't need to have anything that would make him more sleepy.

  The King stood and mentioned that it was his birthday and then spoke about the importance of honor, duty and loyalty. Timon half expected that the meal would end with an announcement that there was a plot against the crown happening, but it wasn't that. Instead there was a really nice, very huge, cake with a butter cream frosting. The piping along the sides was decorative, but not overstated. It was served with a sweetened and frozen cream. After that, for some reason, there were presents.

  That shocked him a little. People had actually gotten him things. Most of them were generic and at least sounded like what a twelve year old boy might want. Two knives, an honest to goodness double handed sword that he doubted he had the weight to swing, and a set of water bottles that might actually come in handy. There was also a painting that he really liked that was from a Baroness he'd never met. She was really old, but patted him on the shoulder anyway, like they were friends already.

  "I know it isn't much, but I did it myself, which I hope counts." Her eyes were a little bright, but she was smiling, so he stood up and hugged her.

  "This is a wonderful painting! I'm going to hang it in my front room for all to see. Once I have a front room that is. Thank you very much, Baroness." Everyone standing around pretended not to notice the scene, at least until the presents were done. It turned
out that the King and Queen were holding meetings in the back of the room, a side chamber that only a few people were invited to at once. He wasn't one of those, but the Rosses and the Thomsons were. When they came out, about twenty minutes later Varley and Her Count husband were called back, along with a few other people. It meant that by the end of the event it was past midnight. His eyes wanted to close on their own practically, though he fought hard to keep them open.

  It would be rude, he realized, not to see Farlo home, but that problem was solved for him by Collette, who insisted that they stay for the night with them. It was nice enough, but meant that he'd have to be up early the next day to take them back. Or get Morgan to do it. That sounded like a wonderful idea really. That was the sleepiness talking, but he didn't even unload the presents from the craft, just walking in a half daze staying with the others until they reached a room. The Rosses had one already, that was kept ready for them all the time, since they'd stayed before, and didn't need to be shown to it at all. Farlo got one on the other side of Ushal the weapons master, and stood in the door looking at Collette until she smiled at them.

  "Ah, of course. I'll see you in the morning then Timon? At the door of your own room I trust?" That part was directed at Farlo who blushed a little and shook her head in denial.

  "I only need his ear for a moment, thank you." She didn't sound catty about it either, more along the lines of playful.

  As soon as the Collette got down the hall she hugged him close, and whispered into his ear.

  "Be careful. Everything isn't what it seems here."

  Then she kissed him on the cheek and shut her door.

  Chapter five

  The pounding on his door got him to crack an eye toward the window, which showed that it was just turning to daylight outside. That meant it had to be about four in the morning. Timon's head felt like it was filled with junk and sharp pointed things and his mouth tasted like someone had dumped something highly unpleasant in it while he wasn't paying attention.

  "One second..." The mumble probably wasn't distinct enough to placate the person on the other side of the door very well, so he stumbled over, fighting to put a smile on his face.

  It was probably Countess Ward, asking how he could be so rude as to not visit her chamber after the party, even though it was pretty clear he could hardly walk at the time. It might have even been Petra, but when he opened the door he was in for a real surprise.

  Count Lairdgren, his grandfather, stood in the door dressed in a green suit of clothing that looked warm and old fashioned, as if he hadn't really caught on to the fact that he could just use the clothing amulet he had on to update his wardrobe. For a half second Timon thought it might be Tor, but the man looked too old. Not ancient, even though he was, but about thirty. He was about a hundred times that age of course and the thing where he looked a bit like Tim's brother wasn't a mistake at all. They were for all intents and purposes the same person. Kind of like Cynthia Blue and her daughters. Clones.

  "Ah, Timon, sorry for waking you so early, but I was wondering if I could impose on you to deliver a package for me?" His voice was eerily similar to Tor's too, so much so that in his sleepy state Timon almost lost track of who he really was for a second.

  "Um." It wasn't the most brilliant of things to say, and of course he'd take a package for the man, but nothing else came out for a moment. The Count just stood there, waiting calmly. "Give me a second to wake up? Is this secret or can I meet you down in the sitting room to discuss it?"

  It was probably too blunt a way of saying it, but if the man wanted sweetness and light he could at least have waited for him to wake up first.

  "I can wait a bit." He sounded pleasant about it, but didn't move, not even to come into the room.

  Timon nodded, figuring that meant it really was some kind of secret, but the man didn't want to announce it in the hallway. That just made sense. There were spies all over the place around here after all.

  "Come in then. I'll be a few minutes, unless that's a problem? I'm going to get a quick shower. Might as well get up I guess." It was too early for this kind of thing. His innate dislike for the man in front of him didn't help a lot either.

  You had to help family, it was a rule, one largely made up by the man in front of him. He hadn't done very well that way himself considering that, had he? Showing up just to ask for things wasn't how it was supposed to work either. You had to do your part in the arrangement, or eventually it didn't count anymore.

  The man, who was bigger than Timon, but not huge at all, being a thin and pasty five-nine or there about, settled on the edge of his bed, guarding it from the possibility of him climbing back in and getting the other two hours of sleep Tim's schedule had promised. Using that to fuel a minor grudge he went to the bathing room to take care of his early morning routine. There was still no need to shave, his face smooth and hair free as always, but he took off all his amulets except the silver shield around his neck. It was the newest kind, so that it only turned on when something tried to hurt him. That meant the water from the shower hit his bare flesh, instantly warm and pleasant. Then, hoping it might actually help him wake up, the spray was turned to the coldest setting possible, which was the temperature of the river outside. It was cool, but not half as shocking as he'd thought it might be. The soap had a floral scent to it and was a bit girly for his taste, but he didn't have to pay for it and that was a real point. When he had his own home Timon could get whatever kind he wanted, but until then he'd just give thanks that someone had stuck some in there for his use.

  Then he dried under a strong stream of air that blew on him with the touch of a single glowing sigil on the wall. It took longer to dry than if he used a towel, massaging his skin as he rubbed it, getting rid of the excess liquid. A quick brushing of his teeth, a comb run through his slightly shaggy hair and a reconfiguring of his clothing amulet so that he was dressed in his black work outfit and boots got him about as ready as he was going to be.

  When he came out, fifteen minutes later or so, the Count was still there, his posture having not changed at all.

  "Grandfather, what can I do for you?" His tone wasn't as pleased as it should have been, but he was tired still. It didn't really matter, since that went unnoticed as far as he could tell.

  "Two matters. First, I need some packets of information delivered to Red, Brown and Gray. I hear that you plan a visit to them in the coming days?"

  "Yes. I'm leaving for Austra first, then Afrak tomorrow or the next day, followed by Vagus, then Soam." He was mainly thinking out loud, distracted by how daunting a task it actually was for a few seconds, but the Count clapped three times.

  "I can send information to Julie as well? Very good, I'll make up a package for her too. Thank you." The words didn't take into account that he could say no. Probably because he didn't intend to. Still, it would have been nice for there to be a please in there somewhere...

  Timon sighed, getting ready to be rude.

  "You know..." He was going to suggest that extended familial ties might not be enough for four in the morning favors when the man continued talking.

  "Also, I was in Two Bends the other day, just missed you in fact, your mother seemed quite worried about you. I heard a rumor here that you've decided to postpone schooling?" His tone was interested enough at least, even if he had just interrupted. It was almost as if he couldn't tell he'd done it either.

  Timon looked at him for a few seconds, about ready to order him out of his room, family or not. They'd only met a few times and he really didn't need lectures from some virtual stranger. Not about things that he couldn't help at least. If he ordered him home... Well, then he'd have to go. That or move out of the Kingdom until he was old enough to cut himself off from his whole family forever.

  "Right. Tor told Countess Printer that I didn't need the scholarship that I'd earned. Only he forgot to really tell me that I needed to pay for it myself, so I got a slower start on that than I should have. I think he was just goi
ng to pay for it, but then the Larval decided to try and kill him and he ran off. People have offered to pay, but since I refuse to take gold from my mother, and the rest is practically begging from strangers, I decided to take a year and earn the coin I need, set up my business and go next year." He didn't growl the words, but his tone went a little hard anyway.

  The Count stood and stretched, nodding after a few seconds, then he said something that baffled Timon more than not.

  "Good thinking. I love my daughter, but she's not the easiest person to be in debt to, and anyone in noble circles that you owe has power over you. Avoid that when possible. Your age won't keep anyone from using that kind of leverage either, so don't think that favors come without cost. Are you staying here then?" The question was sudden, as if meant to get him to admit something he didn't want to, but he shook his head.

  "Not the plan. I'm going to rent some property and set up a magical house. One of the little ones, maybe two. I don't need much and I can actually make those. It's temporary, but if I have my own space I can't be called home too easily. You could order me home, as the Count, but if you do I'll go live in Austra or Soam. I really don't feel like being controlled, if I can help it." This time there was a bit of an edge to his voice, so he covered with a dark smile. "Not that you'd do that, but if mother pressures you, pass that along for me? Not that she wouldn't throw me away too, like she did Tor."

  That earned a wince and a head shake, but the man didn't speak for a long time, nearly ten minutes. Instead he stood and started to walk to the door slowly. There he turned, his hand on the knob.

  "She isn't an evil person. I... raised her to be a member of the nobility, then I had to hide her away in the forest for decades. She made a life for herself, but I think she always blamed me for not killing Glost Serge. I had the chance once, but I couldn't act on it. It's not in my nature to kill if I don't have to. Your brother Tor is so much like me... which was the point of all this I think. She looks at him, all he's done, the people he killed to protect others and it makes her very angry with me. She doesn't truly know that's the problem. Not yet. She doesn't hate her son, she hates her father, for failing to give her the life she should have had." He heaved a sigh and opened the door, heading out at decent speed. "When do you leave? I need to write the package up for Julie."