Knight Esquire ya-2

by P. S. Power

  The ride was smooth, even when they went fast. Faster than a person could fly outside of the craft apparently. In the time it took for Godfrey to point out how the controls worked they were almost at the Capital. There was a hand held device, that you activated and wore on the back of your left hand just like with flying the regular way, and showed them how the set-point control worked, a clever physical device that let you clip the hand control in place quickly and easily so that the pilot could do other things as long as they were flying in a straight line.

  “Oooh, can we land? I’d love an update on the whole situation.” Ursala sounded grim as she spoke, so Godfrey, not hesitating, took them in for a landing, a slow and drifting thing over the palace complex itself, taking about ten minutes to settle in next to one of the people moving crafts on the ground.

  “Sorry about the wait, we can land nearly as fast as a flyer could, but I don’t want to spook the guards here. Going very slow is kind of the only way we have to communicate our peaceful intentions with the ground at all. Not that anyone else in the world has craft like these yet, but the Royal Guard tends towards careful at all times.” The man sounded apologetic enough at least, even though it wasn’t his fault. Tor didn’t really want to test the crafts shields against explosive weapons with him inside anyway, so taking a bit of extra time worked for him.

  None of them were dressed for a state dinner, but all of them were presentable enough for a staff session, so of course, nature and politics being what it was, they’d probably be expected to go to a high court function immediately. Instead a cute Princess, Varley, came out to get them running up to give Tor a hug, causing their shields to bump. Tor laughed a little, but Varley didn’t demand he let go of the shield until they got inside the door at least. Then, as soon as he got it turned off she kissed him. Hard. She didn’t stop until Ursala cleared her throat, several times.

  “Hey, Princess… he came with us you know, until you find out if one of us has a claim don’t you think…” The large woman looked at the girl with a fake scowl on her face for a second, but Varley just shook her head and grinned up at her.

  “Nope. Sara Debri hasn’t been sleeping with Tor; she’s been bedding my brother. Not that she couldn’t do both of them, but she hasn’t been. I asked Alphie already. You… well, it wouldn’t shock me to learn that you have been and really, given everything, I think you should be sleeping with Tor, for now at least, since it would be good for both of you, but if that was the case you would have corrected me much sooner than you did, if you cared about me doing it at least. Besides, for Tor-centric relationships, as far as I know I have the first position right now, since this is the second time I got him to drop his shield to make out with me and we have an actual agreement in place for it. So really, I think I should be wondering what you two been doing with my Tor up there in the wilderness…” She crossed her arms and raised her chin high in a look that was mock haughty. She spoiled it after about ten seconds with a pretty smile.

  Ursala shrugged and told her that mainly they were watching him work off in a corner, though they had taken him to a whore house earlier that day, which functionally Tor owned, it being his compound and all, as well as his idea to put it in.

  “He didn’t sleep with anyone though. Not this time. I do have an appointment with him later to discuss oral sex, so things are looking up a little there.”

  Everyone laughed, except Tor who didn’t get it. Oral sex? He knew that oral meant mouth, but “mouth sex” didn’t make any sense at all. He may not be the savviest person in that area of life, but he knew enough that he didn’t think that would really work. How could you have kids that way? It was a joke maybe? Well, he got that they were laughing at him, but that was OK. Women just did that. At least they weren’t being really mean about things.

  Not yet at least. Maybe they only did that at restaurants? If so, Tor wanted to avoid such places in the future.

  The palace looked the same, except that he’d never been to this part of it before. It was deep inside the complex and down a long flight of gray stone stairs that seemed slightly damp. Tor wondered out loud how well the Not-flyers would handle steps like that. They worked on the little steps in the hut, but this was massive compared to that. Varley turned hers on with a quick tap and descended rapidly, but smoothly. Tor didn’t, but not because he didn’t want to. It would just be rude of him to leave the other women alone. To his surprise Varley came back up the steps just as quickly.

  “Works like a charm. I figured it out a few weeks ago when they had be running messages for them down here for a full day. I was halfway through the day before I even thought about it. You just have to be careful not to run into anyone, because that can get messy. Don’t worry, it was only Alphonse, so he broke my fall. It also showed him the importance of wearing his shield inside, I think.” She grinned as she floated backwards down the stairs slowly.

  The steps went on for a while and the walls went slightly damper and cool the deeper they got. The stone was a dark gray and if it wasn’t for the lights on the close walls, the whole thing would have been gloomy. There were light plates, ones Tor had made himself, since they were in his style and no one else had a template for them yet. If the military had them, that meant the King did, obviously, so it was pretty natural that they’d show up in the palace like this.

  The room in the basement was a bit moist, enough that he wished he’d brought them a house drying device, but he didn’t even have one made up, all of them having gone to Ellen Ward. He could make more, if he ever got the time. Right now the King would probably yell at him for wasting his effort on them if he did it. When they entered through the heavy metal door they were met by an odd group of people.

  The King and Rolph he’d expected but was a little disappointed that Connie wasn’t anywhere around, a thought that made him blush again. Burks being there was just a little odd, but he’d seen the man around in the last meeting he’d gone to, this time he was dressed very nicely in a deep green suit that actually worked on him color wise. Really, Tor realized, Burks had about the same basic skin tone and color that he did, so if it looked good on the older man, it would probably work for him as well. He wasn’t the largest man in the room, thin and black haired, but he didn’t seem like a servant either somehow. Not in the moment. In fact he seemed to be telling the man across from him off rather soundly.

  “No. We will not shut down the school. We move personnel around and keep going. See if some of the older students are willing to forgo military glory for the time being, and stay on as retuletors to replace those we’re losing to other obligations. I thought you were a little more adaptable than that Kyle.” His voice sounded stern and commanding, a little cold maybe. Not the warm, friendly and servile kind of thing that Tor had heard before.

  Kyle, it turned out was familiar enough to Tor now, since he’d seen him several times close up in the last few months. Dean Hardgrove. The idea of him actually having a first name and that being something as common as “Kyle” was almost a little funny. There were two men named that in Two Bends after all. No one was laughing, in fact the Dean, for the first time that Tor had seen, looked angry.

  “Sure Burks, you just sit back and play whatever little games you have going then sweep in and lambaste me for making the sensible choices? We’ve gone from three hundred students to ninety-four inside a month! Everyone over sixteen has dropped out, most back to family estates or to try and sneak into the military. Kolb has gone off and taken the top combat students with him, god knows what they’re planning. We need to face facts; we can’t hold things together right now.”

  Richard took in Tor with a nod and spoke calmly, his attention going to the Dean smoothly.

  “Yes. Sir Martin and his personal army… We really need to get a handle on them fast, before they strike out on their own. Best course is probably to find them and set them some kind of task to keep them busy… Have them train with the military maybe? I don’t know. They have the skills for it. Righ
t now we don’t even have a clue where they are. They’re like ghosts suddenly.”

  Burks sat up in his hard looking wooden chair and smiled when he saw who’d come in, holding up a hand, a single finger really, to get Hardgrove to shut-up and not say anything more, as he turned towards the door. The chair he sat in slid on the floor just slightly and the man stood.

  “Tor! You look… Let’s get you something to eat.” He finished lamely.

  Tor didn’t feel hungry at the moment, but he appreciated the thought, he knew that he looked a lot more like a walking skeleton than not these days, flesh lean and hard all over, as often as not pressing right up against bone. Before anyone could say anything Varley turned and vanished up the stairs, presumably to get him food, as backwards as a Princess waiting on him and taking orders from a room servant seemed. It was war time though, so everyone had to serve as best they could, right?

  Then again, if Burks was a simple servant here, Tor would have totally rethink what those kind of people did. Why they were even discussing the school didn’t make sense at all.

  “Hey everyone. We’ve, uh, come to get an update on the situation with…” Not wanting to just blurt out that Ursala’s parents had been murdered or go into how Karen, his friend, was dead, Tor waved a hand. Funnily enough everyone seemed to get it.

  Rolph sat in a big. Old looking, wooden chair next to the King, both dressed in clothing a lot simpler and more heavy duty than he’d gotten used to seeing them in. The King wore what looked like a canvas military uniform in all black and Rolph sat in an old pair of student browns that actually had a bit of wear on them. Looking around Tor realized that, for the first time in his life, he might be the best dressed person in the room. For the men at least, Ursala still beat him, but that didn’t count, because she was a woman. It just worked that way, if he was making up the rules at least. No one else seemed concerned with that kind of thing right now. Of course. That would be too much to ask now that he finally could have been in the lead, he thought with a sigh. Well, at least he was still winning the contest to be the shortest person still, his conversation with the exotic Afrak ambassador flitting across his mind suddenly.

  The room had to be the plainest place in the whole building, plain gray stone making a simple square of a room that was no bigger than his section of the hut back at the compound. Not that his house was that small, but with a bunch of giants in it, things got close fast. The same thing was true here. At the back there was a metal door, also in gray that had obviously been opened in the last days, since fresh scratches had appeared on the stone floor where it had been forced open. It wasn’t a big door either, the King would probably have to twist and bend a lot to get through it. Rolph too, it seemed, since now that Tor looked more closely it was clear that his tall friend had gotten even bigger in the last months.

  All the men stood, even Rich, who helped find chairs for everyone. Hardgrove tried to give his chair up to Tor when it became clear they were one short, but that got the man a hard look and a wave of the hand. After all, Tor could just hit the Not-flyer and hang in the air comfortably enough, where the old guy would have had to stand. It meant being careful not to waive his right hand around when he spoke, but really, Tor wasn’t here to talk. That he was even in the room, obviously some kind of secret bunker, didn’t make a lot of sense to him at all.

  Wasn’t the point of a secret hiding place to keep it… secret?

  Once everyone was seated, no time was wasted on pleasantries. Rich started filling Ursala and interestingly enough, Sara, in on what had been happening behind the scenes.

  “Our agents are in place. Things… well, they’ve been going slowly so far. The Wards may not be intelligent people, but whomever they’re working with seems rather more clever. We’ve helped work Baronetta Coltress into place, her father “being needed” for the war effort and him deeming the Capital as rather too dangerous for the time being at our urging. She’s been shunted off to the dowager estate, but Ellen Ward has proven useful in getting her into place in the main household for regular visits. Somehow they’ve all secured flying gear already, making visits to Warden, the Ward County capital simple enough that they’d be expected to make it up there regularly.” He rubbed at his face, clean shaved, but tired looking. Tor could sympathize.

  So, their “agent” was Collette? Well, or one of her sisters. Tor had a feeling that the pretty blond was the one though, especially when the hardships she was undergoing at the hands of her half-sister were described. It sounded like Maria really didn’t like either her or Ellen at all and only tolerated Ellen because Count Ward, for all his other failings, still loved his mother.

  “You can’t tell by the way he keeps her though, can you? That dowager estate was about to be overrun with royal eating lizard monsters the last time I was there. Well, really, I only went the once, to put in her house dryer, and give her some cooling plates, but yeah, for a royal she’s not being taken care of that well at all.” Tor knew he sounded a little irritated, but Ellen had seemed nice and it would have taken very little work for her son to make sure she was taken care of properly.

  Hardgrove’s eyebrows shot up at that bit of information.

  “You’ve visited the Dowager Ward at her home?”

  “Yes… and no, I’m not sleeping with her, so let’s not malign her name that way,” the last bit wasn’t exactly bitter, but did sound just a little short. He winced and tried to soften his tone with the man, who had, after all, always been nice to him.

  “Sorry sir, I mean, I went down a few months ago, and put in some devices to keep her house cool and dry, they make her live in the middle of a huge swamp. Oh, and gave her and her man Georges flying rigs and shields. Was I not supposed to? If not then I probably really botched when I got some of the military guys to go down and build a wall around her estate to keep those lizard monsters out and put in a freezing box and some other things. I… hope that doesn’t mess with anyone’s plans overly, but what was I supposed to do? I mean, giant killer snake things or whatever they are…” He’d never seen one, but they sounded horrible from what Ellen had said. They had to stand ready to do battle with them every time they left the house.

  Rather than get mad at him for messing things up, everyone in the room actually seemed to range from non-committal about the move, to happy. Oddly it was Ursala who seemed to not care and Richard along with Hardgrove that seemed pleased. As Tor hovered in the air he was just glad that no one was really angry about it, since he couldn’t fix it now, could he? He moved a few inches closer to the group as Richard explained how they might be able to use it all to their benefit.

  Touching his head gently, as if he had a headache, he outlined a tentative plan.

  “We could, perhaps, use more items and even… Gold, coming from you Tor, to Ellen Ward and possibly Collette Coltress, given as gifts, to help them gain favor with the Count and his lady. We need some excuse for you to be sending them gifts, but the value would be enough to get their attention and possibly reflect well on our agents. Wait… I’m not exactly getting it yet. One moment.”

  The King clearly lost focus, staring at a wall for several minutes. No one else spoke or even moved overly. When he looked around he noticed that half the people in the room were doing something similar. Sara and Hardgrove did at least. Burks stared at Richard closely, as if waiting for an order or suggestion that might be helpful. Ursala didn’t do anything special, she just waited, smiling at Tor and Rolph occasionally. It looked sad.

  For his part Tor wondered if this was how people felt when he suddenly drifted away from a conversation in a similar fashion. It was a little annoying, he realized, but mainly just because he didn’t have anything to do. Finally nearly fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Varley came in holding a covered tray. It had a silver platter underneath, covered with a high dome of something that actually looked too shining and bright for silver. Even polished silver rarely looked like that, having a duller cast to it. She set it down on the tab
le in front of him and with a small flourish, quietly unveiled… a sandwich.

  It was roast beef, and had some kind of creamy and savory dressing on it. Dill and rosemary he thought. It was good, because really, anything with rosemary was and the sandwich was made on a single loaf of bread, meaning it was huge. If it wasn’t at least a foot long, Tor didn’t know how to measure anything. Luckily it had been sliced in half on a diagonal so that he could actually pick it up.

  He hadn’t felt hungry before, but suddenly he was famished. Tor ate it, after checking for poison openly. Eating, even though no one else had food, not caring at first, as rude as it was. After the first half of the meal he was getting full and thought to offer the rest around, but didn’t know how without talking. Just then, as he started to try and get Rolph, Varley and Ursala’s attention with more than a little hand waving, the King shook himself and started speaking.

  “What if… Collette Coltress was sent as an intermediary? To make peace after all that’s happened? Tor would have to be willing to apologize most likely, but it would give our person on the ground a chance to cement her relationship with the Wards at least. Is that… Well, socially speaking it’s a good plan anyway….”

  Snapping out of their own deep states the others all started nodding suddenly. Tor didn’t get it; he was supposed to apologize to the Wards? For what? Letting Ward beat on his shield at the meeting about the baby? Existing? He asked, knowing that he sounded a little peevish, but not really being able to stop it at the moment.

  No one answered for a few moments, then those moments stretched and warped into something embarrassing. At first Tor thought it was something he’d done, but finally Princess Veronica shook her head.

  “No. It’s too much to ask father. Better to just arrange for the Wards to die in an “accident” and forget justice.”