by P. S. Power
Timon didn't deny it, but also didn't say it was correct, just piloting, settling low over the waves and moving toward the docks at about twenty miles per hour, so that no one would be made afraid. Then he stopped dead and turned to the man.
"So I have your word on the matter?" Timon waited for the man to nod, noticing that his hair wasn't greasy at all today, it was just black and straight. It looked better that way. He'd have to warn the man that Lyn would probably think that too.
There was a nod then.
"You do. I promise that I won't speak to anyone about where she is, until she returns to our land openly."
Nodding Timon started them moving again.
"Good. Also nice to know that no one has contracted the Assassins Guild to kill her yet either. You'll let me know if anyone tries to buy her death? I'll offer more gold for their name than they can pay for the death." He looked at the people on the docks waving to them as Dorgal went still. "Not that I know how I'll get the funds. Probably from my brother, but keep that in mind, will you? Also... try not to take offense at my grandmother. I don't think she can help herself."
Dorgal took a deep breath, and nodded.
"You... are a very dangerous man, you know that Timon Baker?"
"What, because I figured out that you knew too much about who might be going after Petra Ward? That doesn't make me dangerous. Just better informed than most people."
Dorgal chuckled and shook his head a bit.
"That's normally the same thing, where we come from."
It was just the truth, so Tim nodded and kept flying, hoping that the revelation that the Sorvee merchant family was the Assassins Guild would be the biggest event of the day.
Chapter seven
The docks were filled with dark skinned women dressed in brown, spun fiber clothing, most with tight curly black hair that looked practical and well controlled. One of the women had brilliant blue hair and orange eyes, which was distinctive if nothing else. It wasn't dye, but her actual color, Timon thought, much like Princess Abby had bird red hair that stood straight up and never faded, along with ice blue for eyes. It wasn't that one that approached first however. It was a woman that looked to be about forty or so, who clearly thought she was in charge, regardless of hair color.
The woman waved to them happily, gestured at the craft and then, almost shockingly, bowed low. She didn't speak at first, but turned and muttered back to the crowd in Afrak. Timon didn't know a lot of it, but he got the general idea easily enough, since Abby had taught him some words and phrases when they'd met each time except the last.
"They are of Noram, I recognize the little ship. Who here can speak to them?" That, from the reaction was no one in the area.
The blue haired one stepped forward then and bowed herself.
"I like these ones. Do you think they are married? We should send for the Gray. She speaks their tongue."
Timon held up the letters for his grandmother, and spoke a bit haltingly. There were some sounds he wasn't able to make yet, his inner mouth being the wrong shape. It would make him sound a bit funny to the women, he knew.
"These are for her? For the Gray? I don't need to see her. Just deliver these." Though he really should stay and at least get a return message. If she had one. It was a great plan and even if they had to sleep in the Fast Craft it would be worth it. Even going hungry for a day. That sounded more than fair, to avoid the woman.
It wasn't to be though, since she came running to the docks, her sandals fairly flying. How she could do that and not fall wearing the plain gray dress she had on he didn't know. It wasn't much faster than he could go, but it was a good clip and was probably close to the speed a good horse could run going flat out. Tim set his face as he waited, hoping it wouldn't be as bad as it might be.
She wasn't out of breath that he could tell, or sweating overly either as she stopped and glanced at Dorgal and then glared at Timon for a few seconds.
"Oh, It's the brat that thinks he knows better than his elders and what... someone come to sell us fripperies and pretend they have value?" The words held anger in them, even if the face was calm.
A slow rage started that he wasn't ready for at all. It wasn't about her, he knew, as rude as she was being. It was about his mother, who, as he'd pointed out to Dorgal, who was goggling a bit at the likeness, was identical. Except that Gray tended to keep her apparent age at about fourteen or so. He had to bite his lip and force himself to breathe, so that a combat rage wouldn't start. It was building inside him he could tell. It had only happened twice before and the second time he'd managed to run off into the woods and beat a tree instead of the neighbor boy that had been sassing him. It had been too close and he'd nearly killed the kid.
Now he was starting to do it again.
"What's wrong boy? Can't be bothered to answer your elders? Too good for the likes of us? We don't wave swords or kill everyone in sight, so we aren't worth your time? How like the men of Noram. Simple brutes without sense, the lot of you. Too stupid and graceless to even mutter a few polite phrases." Her tone seemed nearly triumphant, until she fell down, along with everyone within twenty feet of him or so. Those few he could see that were further away reeled as well, but didn't all go down, just looking dizzy.
"I came to deliver these messages. That is done. I'll leave now. If you mock me the next time we meet, be prepared to fight to the death for it. There are limits to what I'll take and you just walked right past them." Then he threw the letters on top of her and managed to resist kicking her, which he was pretty proud of. Instead he picked up Dorgal and carried him into the craft, feeling as if he weighed no more than a large bag of flour. It wasn't true, but in his rage he could manage it. Then he took off without waiting to make certain everyone was all right.
The disorientation from the combat aura was pretty strong, true. Not particularly dangerous however. Not unless he lost control and attacked someone that was already down and not able to fight back. Of course with his shield on that was a lot more dangerous than not. Even unarmed his fists would hit like iron at the moment.
He headed north and east, the rage subsiding after a few moments, thankfully. It would make him stupid and clumsy, as well as cause his head to hurt, but it would be a lot harsher if it went on for a longer time.
The aching began before Dorgal woke up enough to speak, which he didn't do even after it was probably safe. Timon realized that he was afraid, which was normally a good idea if someone flying a craft you were in had just been in a rage like that. Forcing a smile he turned to the man slightly, not letting his head turn too far, since it might mess up the line he'd chosen to fly in. Not that he was all that certain he was going to the right spot. If he could find a landmark he recognized that would work better.
"So... That went better than I thought. Sorry about that. I didn't think she'd come on that strong right off the bat. Not that it should have triggered me like that. I almost never do that." You were supposed to apologize to people if you hurt them, but the rules said that you got to mainly ignore the rest of the fallout from combat rage, after the fact. Dorgal was stuck with him however, so reassuring the man that he wasn't about to go all rage monster in the small enclosed space just seemed polite.
He shook his head a little and didn't make direct eye contact. That was also in the rules. A person that had been triggered once was more likely to do it again for a few days if pushed. If nothing else they'd most likely get angry a lot easier.
Of course as it was Timon wasn't absolutely certain he hadn't just started a war with Afrak. True, it might be fair to suggest that Gray started it, not him. That wouldn't be how it looked to everyone back home if it came to fighting. On the good side Gray didn't have an army, or violence, so it would probably just be him running around yelling at a bunch of scared women that had no real reason to be his enemy.
Dorgal, being caught in a bit of a trap, didn't talk for nearly two hours, even when Tim made small comments. Anything said might be the wrong thing, and
of course, if a person were so inclined to that sort of thing, being silent could also be enough to make them upset. It wasn't really bothering him. Really, the words shouldn't have either. He was feeling fairly stable again, really.
"It's that I'm kind of fighting with my ma. Lara is too much like her and it kind of set things going that shouldn't have, even if she was a bit rude to us." The controller felt strange and hard in his hand he realized, which wasn't right. The craft seemed fine, in that it flew well, but the walls were uneven and bulging outward, as if trying to get away from him. He'd accidentally caused it to change without realizing it. Without saying anything he focused, trying to fix it all. That actually got Dorgal to relax visibly and after a few more minutes dare to actually break his silence.
"But Lyn Cooper is nicer? No hidden secrets?" There was a hesitation to the words, a shyness almost. It wasn't what he expected from the fellow at all.
"Oh... well, yeah. More than we'll ever know, I'd guess. She's an Ancient, a real one, having already lived thousands of years. I know that she can control her age a lot better than most of us can, so there's that. She can also turn into this tall skeletal creature, which makes her faster and stronger. Like a person in a combat rage, except she's in full control of herself all the time. It's fascinating to see, but not all that pretty. She's also becoming a really good builder too. Friendly enough. Other than that I don't know that much about her. Vagus is kind of low magic so far, but she's training about fifty or so builders already, and in twenty years they'll probably have more wizards than Noram does." He was rambling.
Dorgal nodded along and didn't ask too many hard questions. That was pretty standard too, from what his parents had told him after the first time he'd done it, when he was nine. As far as they knew it had never happened after that. There had been a couple of close calls for him. Almost every time he got too mad really. It wasn't a fun thing at all and if his parents knew, they'd probably insist that he go home right that moment. Like that would help.
Just thinking about it started to make him angry again, so he tried to distract himself by talking.
"It won't take too long from here. Vagus is big, but only about five more hours from this point. If we don't get lost that is." He grinned and glanced at the man, who was keeping his face as still as possible. "That's... probably not going to happen. It really is a huge place. If you can get Lyn to marry you there's that. Pretty much the best time to do it too. It's a little rough right now. Mud huts and horse farmers mainly. That won't last too long..." Timon blinked and realized that there was a strange red lump under them, a palace like the one that Lyn had made for the summit. Pointing he stopped and looked at it. There was a stream going into it, from the air, but it was on the edge of a forest, not in a large grassy plain at all. The landscape was different too. A mountain range to the left that hadn't been there at all. So it had been moved?
He shook his head and started to land, wondering why she'd moved the thing at all. When he settled a group of people, some young, some nearly ancient it seemed, from their gray hair and stooped forms, moved toward them. They were in rich looking robes, all the same bright red. Like a uniform. On their feet were strange shoes, also red, if a lighter shade of it, a style that Timon had only ever seen on Lyn herself.
Dorgal was almost happy to get out of the craft it seemed, and smiled genially at the group that stood around them, hands folded in their long sleeves. From the center of the group a woman came, looking about forty or so. Lyn.
Timon waved to her, then realized it wasn't nearly proper enough a greeting for the leader of an entire land, so he bowed, which got Dorgal to do the same, going lower than he did and holding it. The people all bowed back, except Lyn, who ran forward, her face aging backwards as she moved.
"Brother!" There was a hug, a tight thing that showed that the woman, who now looked like a young girl, was many times stronger than she looked. He actually had the air taken from him for a few seconds until she relented a bit. "I didn't think anyone would be in touch for a few years. Is everything alright?"
That was a delicate question, one that he didn't want to answer openly in front of a crowd, in case some of them had been learning to speak Noram standard. If they hadn't they should, since they were going to be friends and coworkers.
"Of course not, but you know the thing about Tor. That hasn't changed as far as I know. This gentleman is the Merchant... prince, Dorgal Sorvee, who's come to not only look for trade, but also to see about getting married to you. I was thinking we'd hold one ceremony here today, then one in the Capital in a few weeks. You're good with that, aren't you?" It was said jokingly, but Red nodded, as if it only made perfect sense.
To that end she barked out something in her language, which was actually called "Cantonese" not "Vagish". He didn't know enough to get what she said, but it was followed by a smile and an explanation.
"That's fast work Dorgal. A good plan, taking charge like that. I asked for the whole thing to be set up. We don't have complicated ceremonies here. We just jump over a small fire holding hands and spend the night together alone. There will be some singing and dancing for the others, but we mainly just get to talk and consummate things. It will be fun."
To his credit, Dorgal didn't hesitate or look bashful at all, he bowed instead and then took her hand in a very proper fashion.
"It sounds perfect... Lyn. Much better than what my mother will insist upon back home. Should I have some special kind of costume, or learn a speech? I fear I haven't prepared anything in your tongue as of yet. I promise to learn it as soon as I may."
That earned him a hug, which wasn't nearly as hard or familial as what Tim had gotten. That was a good sign at least. He'd been afraid that the man might only like other men, from what he'd said, but he seemed happy enough to let Lyn touch him. She was cute, if slightly funny looking. That was just the way her people were, and it wasn't unpleasant, just different.
"That's good to hear. What you're wearing will be fine for the ceremony, but it won't start until dark. The Mages that are working at copies and meditation will wish to attend I think. It's not every day that there's a wedding after all. We'll have a feast too. It's what we do." She dimpled at Timon then and clapped once, which got everyone else to run off in different directions. Some of them smiled. Not all by any means however.
Those of Vagus had lived a hard existence for thousands of years. Capturing magic for them from Noram had been a last ditch effort for Lyn, he thought. It didn't instantly fix their land, of course. That would take a long time and a lot of hard work. The school here, if that's what this place was, seemed to be thriving however. The clothing they were wearing had to be made of magic, since they hadn't been allowed real fabrics that fine before.
They were invited inside the place, which was filled with plants and gardens in pots that lined every hallway, vegetables and fruit growing in them as well as flowers of different kinds. The lights from above where part of the building and a fine mist of water fell on the plants at different times.
"We don't have any true builders yet, but we have fifty-seven people that have learned to make copies from templates. Each student here is a member of our Mage corps, which means that they've agreed to work directly for me for their entire life, in exchange for power. They may marry, but this is the first wedding that any of us have had. It's a great example, since their spouses can hold riches, even though they may not." She touched the Merchants arm and looked up into his face then, her eyes going slightly large. Right now they looked blue, but Tim had seen them be green and brown at different times.
"Dorgal, I'm the leader of this land, it's true. I don't have a mountain of gold, or slaves however. My people do what I ask, because they love me. I don't ask much of them, except things that will aid them, because I love them. If you thought that there would be great wealth from this union..."
Timon held his head and snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous Lyn. Just taking a percentage of profits from whatever you
two sell in Noram, magic wise, will make you both rich. Are your Mages going to get part of that? If so, I suggest you work out a system of trade. Real goods instead of useless gold. Maybe work out some bargains with some of the top builders back home, until your people are doing your own work. I don't know. Sorry..." He held his head, which was smarting pretty well now. "Combat rage episode. I think I might have started a war with Gray. She was asking for it. I know, she's my grandmother... I should be kind, and contrite."
Lyn tilted her head and smiled a little.
"Did she survive it? I don't think she's capable of seeing a man as a real threat, certainly not one as small as you still are. It's a flaw in her thinking and always has been. She can't help it. She was created by a group of women that hated men. The problem there is that humans need both genders to survive. It's why she didn't do away with men altogether in Afrak. Women can't survive on their own. Men can't either. Even if the baby problem is addressed, which Gray can do, it just doesn't work. People tried. It was a mistake."
He shook his head and then wished he hadn't, forcing a pained smile.
"They should all be fine. The combat aura took them down and I managed to grab Dorgal up and run. It's... Not good."
Lyn patted his arm gently then stood back and yelled, calling out in her own language, which got not one, but three red robes Mages ran forth, all of them holding small gray stones out, one of which was handed to Red instantly by a girl that looked vaguely familiar.