his hand country fashion an arm stretched back towards him. Surprisingly the man took it in a firm, but polite grasp and shook properly, without the hesitation Tor was used to from royals back home.
“Oh, so good to meet you too. Tell me Mr. Baker, do you like chickens? I have one. I call her bossy. Horrible nag. Oooh, I was going to offer to introduce her, but I forgot I had her killed last week, never listened to a word I said. Don't you hate that?” He grinned, his eyes nearly blank as he spoke.
This was an act too.
Dressed in his military clown outfit, bright blue and red piping all around, with its bright gold buttons that, close up, were scratched, showing steel underneath and looking shabbier than in the pictures of him that had appeared from Burks’ special communication device in the palace meeting room nearly three months before. It was a put up to make Tor think he was insane.
What the man himself didn't really get was that it wasn't an act.
Sure, he wasn't going to suddenly wet himself and caper like a jester, not for real, but his mind wasn't balanced at all. In his world everything revolved around him, his wants, his needs. When that didn't happen Glost got angry, and when he did, he removed his enemies with force. Always. But he thought that was sane and his current behavior was just a ruse for the Noram bumpkin. A man so stupid he didn't even know magic wasn't real, that all he'd done was technology and luck. Happenstance being fit into a shape his feeble mind could cope with.
Tor could work with that.
“Hey, I don't want to be rude, but you know, the magic has to be fed, would it be possible to get something to eat soon? If not I can wait, but I've only eaten ship food for a while… Oh! I know, why don't we have my brother join us!” Tor smiled happily and explained that he meant the Brown man. Glost didn't think much of the idea, but Daria liked it.
“He's pretty, get these two together and we could make such a delicious sandwich.” Tor didn't get the reference, but the woman jiggled from foot to foot, shifting as she explained. “You on the outside, me in the middle, him on the other side. Or, well, we could put you in the middle. All you Noram nobles like kinky stuff right? I could just eat you up. Possibly cut into steaks.” She acted like she was considering it, but really didn't care at all. Honestly, when he got what she was thinking and feeling, she wasn't even amused by what she was saying, it was just to help solidify her act. It felt almost dismal really. Everything she did was meant to keep her father happy. Even killing Yardley had been. Though he couldn’t pick up why the girl had to die at all.
The only thing he did get was that it wasn’t over Ali.
Tor nodded.
“I'd be too stringy and small for a good meal. Maybe if we had that chicken instead?” Tor had to pretend his goal wasn't Brown. If they thought he had a plan, they might not let him see the Ancient at all. Ideally he could eat dinner down in his cell or close by, even if they locked him up if they failed to take his amulets, he could to it, maybe without any of the devices he'd brought if they gave him enough time. A day or two? Rebuilding would be a pain, but Tor had come ready for it, if that's what was required.
The Premier clapped and pretended to be giddy at the idea of eating the chicken, but couldn't think of an excuse to not have one on hand, that made him a little angry, but Tor derailed it with a shrug and a hint, letting Serge out of the whole thing without getting mad. It wouldn't help to have a homicidal freak losing his cool. Not yet at least.
“Unless she was breakfast of course. Totally understandable. In that case we should take Denno a pie. People like pie, right? Tell, me, is… Is he… scary in person?” The idea was ridiculous, but he was the pretend magic Noram bumpkin, wasn't he? Denno was one of the most beautiful people in the world, if he held true to what his image when shown in lifelike realism for Tor and the royal family. Scary just wasn't the word that Tor would have used for the man. Delicate might fit, but so far none of the old Ancients seemed weak at all, even if smaller than a lot of people. Efficient came to mind when he looked at them. Tidy and easy to keep fed.
Tor made himself seem worried though, not really certain why at first, but the fields felt right for it. After about five minutes of talking, it became apparent why, since Glost started insisting that he have dinner with Denno that very night. From the words Tor figured he was about to be locked in with the fellow, or maybe attacked, the edgy stress of the brightly clothed man growing as they talked. He didn't want Tor to meet with Brown, who was a prisoner, which made sense on so many levels, but on the other hand Tor’s discomfort at the idea acted like a goad, pushing the man into the idea.
Daria sneered and pushed him too, working in perfect time with her father. Tor got it now, or at least a small part of it. She wasn't insane, or even spoiled and self entitled, not really. She was a survivor. Daria Serge didn't want to die. In this case that meant not going against her father, no matter how foolish he was being.
Right. Lessons from those that had been there. Trying to play with this man would backfire if he tried to do it for too long. Especially if he said no to something.
“All… right, sir…” Tor said, trying to sound reluctant now that both of them were pushing for it.
“You know best. Oh… Um, here… I have something for you.” It was a letter from Afrak he was supposed to hand over to Glost Serge. From Lara Gray herself. Tor didn't know why, but kind of figured it would be a problem, possibly an assassination attempt. The man took it, but didn't open it or even act interested.
Before Tor could play it up or even try to think of doing something more, Glost called for a full meal, chicken, though not, he assured Tor “Bossy the chicken”, to be served in Browns cell. No hesitation about calling it a cell, but on the word both the others suddenly went on alert and stared at him as if expecting a violent outburst.
Tor gave them outward boredom and a small wave of his left hand.
“Has he done something then? Or is he just always getting in the way like Burks does? I never thought to lock him in somewhere. Tell me how you managed it and I might just try and pull that off with him next time we meet.” Tor made his voice a little bored and sullen, not having anything better on short notice.
“Ha! I forgot for a moment that you knew one of the old timers yourself. Yes, rather busy group of people, aren't they? I won't lie, he got in the way of my plans, so I locked him up, but it wasn't anything illegal on his part. Kind of refreshing that you understand. I was worried that you'd be difficult on that score. I'd have had him killed, but Daria loves him so. Can't let him out or he'll ruin everything. They always do, don't they?” Mad eyes, the real insanity this time, shone from the leaders face. It was an earnest look, one that called for support.
It was also probably fair from the guy’s perspective, so Tor grinned and nodded.
“You have no idea sir. Why just a few weeks ago Burks was hitting me just for not learning something fast enough. I mean a real beating too, not just a few taps or slaps. He gets thousands of years to do it, but I can't figure it out in a few days and I'm suddenly stupid? They're all too far from being young to remember what it was like I think. It probably has to happen over that much time, but seriously how hard is it to remember that regular people aren't thousands of years old?” Tor sounded put out, but then he had been at the time, a little. He got the idea that he needed to hurry, but… yeah. It really was annoying being beaten like that.
Glost clapped happily, anger on his face, but not anger at him, so at least there was that. Daria followed suit, acting giddy, her eyes showed shrewdness though, watching Tor as if suspecting that he was pulling something. He was, so Tor couldn't fault her on picking it up. It was ham-handed and rough of him, but the best he could come up with in the moment.
Ten minutes later they walked down five flights of stairs, white tiled and twisting hallways of them, cool and bright from the magic lights above. The light quality wasn't good, and when Tor touched it with his mind he was shocked to find it was a glowing gas, not his kind of magic at all. Lightning had been passed into it and that made it glow? Electrics.
Amazingly clever.
Also wasteful, but he didn't mention it. He wasn't here to comment on their society or how they lived, was he? Their place, their ways. Still, it was a stupid way of doing things when they could have simply made lights that didn't use energy at all.
Denno stood at the far side of his room, the door thick metal and see through glass for observation, wire shot through to make it harder to break. The man wore identical clothing to the one time Tor had seen him, a light blue outfit that had a loose top, much like a tunic and baggy trousers that didn't seem to have pockets. The material was light, cotton or something similar, and his shoes were light slippers, also in matching blue material. The leather on the bottom looked different, like it was something else entirely not cow hide at all. It was white and flexible not hard at all.
Having seen his image before Tor was ready this time. Denno Brown was beautiful. Dark skin that reminded
