Knight Esquire ya-2

by P. S. Power

  “Isn’t that the city you saved?” She asked, her eyes going to his face, which must have looked sad or something, because she looked concerned.

  “Not really. I just built a big water filter for them, which isn’t such a big thing. For one, they aren’t saved yet, it’s just a temporary fix… Really though, seriously, they think I’m a cave dwelling troll that Sara Debri made a complicated deal with in order to get the device their using. Honest, she just brought me a letter from her mother, and I did the work, no bargains at all. I didn’t even get paid for it. They have plays about it and everything.” He chuckled as she swallowed hard, her face fighting a grin.

  “Actually, for a kids school play it wasn’t too bad. Even I was rooting for Sara by the end of it. Evil Tor troll…” He mock growled the last bit while shaking his fist a little held by his own face, which made Ellen actually laugh out loud.

  She invited him to stay the night, but he shook his head a little regretfully.

  “Sorry… I’d love to, this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time, but I have to get to Galasia early enough in the day to show them how to use the new gear and then make it back to school before dark, so I can attend all my classes the day after. It’s a grind, but if I miss too many more, they’ll probably kick me out of school and then my parents will have to kill me, which will make them sad, so I can’t have that, can I?”

  He flew off waving over his shoulder, about half an hour later, and then headed roughly back towards the school as fast as he could, left hand pushing out nearly as far as it would go. After about five hours he had to land and make camp in some woods at the foot of the white top mountains, there just wasn’t enough light to fly by and Tor didn’t particularly want to risk hitting the ground. He didn’t bother with a fire or anything, just removed some pine boughs from trees using his little cutter and made a bed. He didn’t get cold at all, but did get wet during the night. Clouds had come in, and while the shield kept the impact of the rain off, the wet still soaked him.

  In the morning he blinked as the sunlight glinted off the white earth in front of him. Ah! It hadn’t been rain at all, but snow. He hadn’t even realized it was nearly that cold here yet. Good to know that the temperature equalizers worked in the cold too. Well, he’d actually guessed that, from the ice box in the palace that had felt room temperature to him. It was still nice to know. If he had to now, Tor could just live outside like this all the time with no problem. Shield to keep him safe, and warmth all the time too. Now if he could keep the rain and snow off of him… A little shield hut maybe?

  He smiled as he took to the air, trunk buzzing along behind him gently. There was a feeling of peace about the whole thing. A calmness as the land slowly passed beneath him.

  For the first time on this trip he noticed someone else flying, as he raced through the skies. That was rare. Well, he’d seen it at school a few times, but that had to have the most flyers of anyplace, nearly, and all in a small area. They didn’t get very close, but he waved to them anyway, getting a wave back. It looked like someone wearing what the nobles were calling “flying clothes”, nice silk and leather. From the way the person had bundled up they didn’t have a temperature equalizer at all. That made sense. No one was even selling those yet. Everyone that had one had gotten it from him directly or at least from someone that had.

  He got in to Galasia about mid-morning; it had taken him a while to find it actually, since it was kind of just surrounded by forests, though they had two nice rivers near it as well. Apparently the water from those wasn’t fit to drink either? If it was, then why were the people dying of thirst during the sewer problem thing? Couldn’t they have just gone and gotten something to drink there?

  Tor slowly landed in the central square, people looking at him and pointing, probably because flying was still rare enough around here and he wasn’t very royal looking. If all you saw flying were huge people with fine clothes, a smaller one in student brown canvas would get some attention. Then he stood for a while, waiting.

  This kind of thing was always hard for him, talking to strangers. Tor did well enough in a retulsional setting, but even then he normally let other people do most of the talking. Who should he approach? There were plenty of people around, most of them suddenly looking away. Not wanting to seem pushy or aggressive? Kind of them, if not overly helpful at the moment.

  Before he could make up his mind a boy that looked a few years younger than Tor was walked over, waving in a friendly way.

  “Hey! How’d you rate flying gear? Even the Baron can’t get any yet I’ve heard. I’d kill to get my hands on some. I’d get you to lend me yours so I could try it, but I’m afraid I’d just fly away and never come back. I don’t want to be bad or anything, but it might be too tempting….” The boy laughed. He was bigger than Tor, by about six inches but looked to be about fifteen or so through the face.

  “Hey, sorry, I’m Conrad. Conrad Gala. Yes, related, but far enough away from anything important that I don’t bother with a title at all. Baron twenty-seven or some such, you know how that is?”

  Putting out his right hand Tor nodded. “Kind of. I’m Tor. Torrence Baker. I don’t use any titles either really, about the same reason, far enough away that I’m never inheriting anything. Countier some-muckity Lairdgren, I hear. Such a non-thing my mother didn’t even bother to mention it until a few months ago. Anyway, I brought some devices so that the sewer system can be rebuilt faster, I think I should find… Ferdinand Gala? I don’t know that for certain. He’s just the one I met before and we discussed it.” His voice sounded a little sad and shy to his own ear, but the boy just looked a little taken aback.

  “Uncle Ferdinand? I can get you there, no problem. Um, need help with the box?”

  The follow float on it worked well enough and was easier than carrying it, so Tor explained it and then slowly followed the boy. It would have gone faster, but the kid kept stopping to watch the trunk stop and move when Tor did. It probably did look kind of cool, Tor allowed, but it wasn’t a very quick way to get things done. Luckily it didn’t take too long, because the Baron second was in his office, just off the square. Handy. The building was a nice golden yellow with green trim. Colorful and happy looking, if not very serious seeming. The whole place had a friendly feel that way, under the sadness of the people.

  “Hey Uncle Ferdinand… I brought someone to see you. Um, Mr. Baker? He appears to be claiming he’s not actually a troll if you can believe that. I’m still waiting on my decision. His case is floating around behind him, and really, I’m pretty sure anyone that can do that can make me think anything they want, so it could just be a clever disguise.” It was clear the boy was teasing and being playful so Tor stuck his tongue out at him and grinned. Conrad smiled and chuckled a little.

  “He’s also a Countier it seems. Lairdgren? We should let Meryl know that, so that when she writes the next play it doesn’t slander him quiet as much. Maybe make him a midget instead of a Troll?” The boy winked.

  “Not that your that short, but you understand, by tradition since the plays already malign you a bit, we have to keep on with the theme.”

  Tor sighed.

  “I didn’t know that was the tradition here. Well, can’t do anything about it now then, can we? I’m probably going to be a troll forever then.”

  Conrad grinned large and patted him on the back. He was friendly at least.

  “Oh, sure, but that can work for you too. No one with half a brain in their head will ever try and get in a fight with you. “Tor the Troll” just sounds fierce, doesn’t it? Besides, I promise, Meryl didn’t mean anything by it. She just a kid. It seemed like a better story to her and besides, that way she could star in it.”

  It made sense to Tor at least. Maybe he could bribe her into being slightly kinder in the next one?

  Ferdinand, still looking huge, and wearing a nice jacket over a white shirt came out of his office and did a double take when he saw Tor. Instead of waiting for pleasantries, Tor just jum
ped in.

  “I mentioned excavating gear last time I was here? So I made some and brought it down. It takes a little practice to use, so I thought I’d show you all how to work with it? I can show anyone you want, but I need to be going in a few hours, so I can sleep in my own bed tonight. I don’t mean to rush you all into this…” The Baron second Gala just smiled at him and sent Conrad off to find some people, workmen probably, though some of them had the same last name. Gala.

  Tor thought it was a good enough idea. After all, if the city was called “Galasia”, shouldn’t they be helping to fix any major difficulties? It was kind of what ruling meant, wasn’t it?

  Inside an hour, ten men were assembled outside with the digging gear on. They made a huge mess at first, spraying dirt over themselves, Tor, and half the people that had come by to watch what was happening in the field off of the main square. A large building was going in anyway, so Tor had them dig out the foundation for practice, following the string lines that had been put in. After they got the hang of it the work was finished in about half an hour. Compared to the weeks, or even months it would have taken to dig a pit that size with shovels, it was amazing. Then he showed them how to use the loose dirt to build hard retaining walls using the second device.

  “Obviously, If you want to run water or sewage through a line, you have to harden all four sides of a pit, which means making a top separately then lifting it in place, but it’s still faster than trying to lay that much pipe. It should speed things up a bit at least.”

  The tall boy, Conrad bounced in place a little. “Yeah it should, about a thousand times. You should come back and visit us when we have it all done. Should be about what, a month? And that only because we’re slow and incurably lazy…”

  The words could have been bitter, but there was good humor behind them. Tor smiled and turned to the trunk again with a shrug. He pulled out three sets of flying gear and shields, handing two to Ferdinand and one to Conrad. “One of those is for the Baron, of course. Send a note to me at school or something when the works done? I’d love to see what you all do. I don’t know how sewage systems work at all.”

  As an afterthought he pulled another set out and handed it to Ferdinand.

  “For Meryl? It’s a bribe, so that she won’t make me look too bad in her next work? Make sure to tell her that, will you?” He meant it, but for some reason everyone else laughed as if it were a grand joke. The Baron second seemed shocked when Tor didn’t immediately take the flying gear and shield back.

  “You’re really just giving these to her? That’s most generous.” The man gave him a look that seemed nearly sly for a moment and then winked.

  “She doesn’t have a marriage set up yet. Only thirteen, but in a few years might be interested.”

  It was awkward suddenly, but Conrad saved it, holding his flying gear tightly, as if afraid Tor might take it back.

  “Hey, no angling on Master Tor yet Uncle Ferdinand. At least let the next play come out first. Maybe it can be about how you tricked Tor into rebuilding the sewer system?” The boy laughed as the man groaned and looked chagrined.

  “Well, it could be worse.” He muttered to Tor, a bit desperately.

  Before anyone could thank him properly, or run screaming from him, yelling “troll, troll!” Tor got back into the air. It wasn’t too late, so, if he flew fast, he should be able to make it back in time for dinner. That would be good, because all he had left was half stale bread, the sweet rolls having turned into breakfast already.

  The flight back was uneventful, a little boring even, but peaceful at the same time. If nothing else he knew that he had some errands out of the way and while it had generated more, that was how life worked, right? He’d just get down to Ellen’s in a few weeks and build that wall for her and Georges. Next time he’d have to take a little bit of food with him. They frowned on students stealing things from the dining hall, but it could be done if you were careful.

  Tor felt half starved when he got back to the room, but to his surprise found several boxes and a small barrel resting on his bed. At first he thought that the school might have been kicking him out, or at least getting him to move to another room, so he wouldn’t be near Rolph anymore, but it turned out, when he read the letter with it, that it was a gift from the Morgans’.

  Apparently they weren’t in on any snubbing at least.

  That was good. He hadn’t spoken with Trice at all about things, being too embarrassed still, but it wasn’t them calling everything off yet, so maybe he should? She hadn’t kept him out of the party after all, Sara either.

  Even Rolph was probably clear there. Really, he wouldn’t have done that to him. Ever. If the Prince didn’t want Tor around for something like that, he’d have just mentioned it. Well, that or arranged for some other event to take place at the same time to get him out of the way. Send him off on an errand or something.

  Two of the boxes had dried pears, which he tried immediately. They really were good, like candy almost. It was the new drying system, which left them crisp and light, almost melting in the mouth. The other box had dried apple, which was good too, but not as tasty as the pears. Eric had mentioned that, hadn’t he?

  In the barrel was a blend of apple and pear that they both hoped he would particularly enjoy. It came with a teasing warning not to let anyone else have any, or it would all be gone before the day was out. It was a large barrel, about five gallons it looked like, with a tap on it, so he set it up on his table. Careful not to make a mess, Tor poured a bit of it into one of the special cups he’d made, and hit the cooling sigil on the side. After about ten seconds the beverage was nearly ice cold, a thin crust frozen on the top even, so he turned the field off and took a slow sip.

  It was good. Really good. As cold as it was, he could feel it almost seeping in to his body. Like magic. He could feel the… delicious… with his entire being, as strange as that was. Closing his eyes he savored the flavor, taking small sips instead of the huge gulps his body demanded. “Delicious” had only been a word to him before, now he not only had a flavor, but a feeling to go along with it. He’d have to pen a note to them in thanks as soon as he had funds to send it.

  The day, the last weeks really, had worn at him, Tor realized, because he suddenly felt exhausted now that he had the chance to relax a bit, and a sign that not everyone in the world hated him. That part was nice. Slumping into the bare wooden work chair the school provided, he could barely keep his eyes open. Tor would have just lie down and taken a nap, if his stomach hadn’t spasmed painfully. At first it occurred to him that too much dried fruit all at once might be the cause, he’d never encountered that effect before, but Tor had heard about it. Something to do with too much fiber, he thought. Oops. He started to laugh at himself for it, but the pain got really bad. Worse than he’d experienced before. Ever. Including when his leg had been broken and he was left dangling in the air by it. His throat started to close up and breathing came only in painful shallow gasps.

  God!

  Desperately he worked over to his desk and grabbed the poison detector he normally took with him to meals; he held it over the cup, which lit up brightly.

  Right.

  They’d poisoned him then.

  Why? Who would do this to him? Tor wanted to vomit, even tried to make himself, sticking a finger down his throat, but nothing happened. He fell to the floor still clutching the detector. The last thought he had before everything went dark was a simple one; what kind of moron invents a poison detector and then let himself get poisoned?

  If it hadn’t hurt so much, Tor would have said he deserved it.

  Torrance came to, lying in his own bed. The boxes and barrel were gone and the woman in the room with him wasn’t anyone he knew, or had even seen before. She looked at him when he stirred a little and came to his bed side. Her clothing was all blue, a dark and heavy looking material, practical and loose, but with trousers and a tunic, not a skirt, so some kind of work clothes?

  She brought h
im water, and without even being asked, the poison detector, which he triggered before even checking the cup. It was clean. He drank as much as he could, which wasn’t much, and then waited. The woman left and didn’t return, but half an hour later the Dean and Kolb came in.

  “Hey…kind of a hard way to get some rest, don’t you think?” The big man teased, his voice was light, but his face held a dark, slightly grim look.

  Tor nodded. A very hard way to go about it indeed. A stupid way too. Not something he’d be recommending anyone try for themselves.

  The Dean looked at him, a hard look that spoke of fear and dread. “We, um, found the cask and the note that went with it. It was clearly poisoned and the hand that wrote the note was consistent. Meaning one person wrote the whole thing. Other than that we don’t know who did what or when. It may be too soon to leap to conclusions. People don’t generally advertise like that if they’re planning to kill you, so it may well be an attempt to guide blame away from the real culprit.”

  That was sensible, of course.

  Leaping to conclusions never seemed to help anyone, as far as he’d noticed in life. Still, someone had tried to kill him. Again. Why? Who? These things didn’t have answers yet and it was driving him crazy. More to the point, why would anyone bother? It wasn’t like he was special or anything. In the end Tor was just a schoolboy, even if you corrected for the Squire thing and being one of the many “Countier’s Lairdgren”. If someone didn’t want him around, wouldn’t it be easiest to just ignore him and not give him invitations to functions?

  He wondered why no one had come to visit him either. Was that a sign of guilt, or were they just being kept out in order to let him rest? He asked the Dean, or tried to at least. His voice wasn’t working at all. It sounded like someone had poured sand down his throat then stomped on it for a while to mix it around. Really it was worse than that.