have had months of abuse. It might have already been going on, or not, before then, but from the first time Tor met the Baron on, everything the man did wrong was on him too. Tor's fault.
Misery poured through him. Because in a very real way, every time the evil man had touched that child, it was like Tor had sanctioned it himself. That sent a shudder through him and finally caused tears to come to his eyes. He stammered an explanation to his friend, but Rolph got it. He didn't try to deny it either. Or say it wasn't his responsibility.
This time it just was.
It was the responsibility of any adult to stop such things, if they could.
And Tor had failed.
Finally he was walked in to a room in the palace proper that had a half dozen sofas and even more chairs set up. There was a nice red carpet with deep blue patterns along the edges. Flowers he thought. It was hard to pay attention to it. At least the tears dried before everyone started to come in.
“Hey everyone.” Tor said, almost no energy left in his voice at all. No big mystery there, he’d been burning all he had during the little event and pushing like an insane person.
Literally.
It wasn't absolutely everyone, just the royal family, his brother Weasel and his mother. Tor looked at her, as she scowled, and got ready for whatever harangue was no doubt coming. She took a breath and then…
Said nothing.
After a half minute or so she let her breath out, a shaking, almost shuddering sound and started crying. Silently, but with large fat tears that ran down her face, leaving bold glistening tracks.
“Here I was just afraid you were going to die. I'm so sorry Torrance.” Her words were dark and sad.
Then, she knew, at least a little, what he was going through and would face over this, didn't she?
Suddenly she was hugging him, the others holding back at first, letting his mother have a moment with him alone.
“Yeah, you and me both. It had to be done this time. I…” He waved his hands at Rolph, hoping he would explain, but it was a voice from the door that spoke, one he didn't recognize at all.
“He was… raping young Connor ma'am. I couldn't stop him. None could in the barony. The new missus, Lady Priscilla, she tried and was beaten horribly for it, over and again. She didn't stop though. Even when I thought he'd kill her at times. He used that to taunt Lord Baker, knowing as how he wouldn't abide by it. He told us all he would. Planned to use the Lord's current health to kill him.” The voice came from the twenty-something woman he'd seen earlier. He didn't recognize her from anywhere else, but she was tall, noble height easily and stood next to Priscilla and the boy, who looked at the floor, tears in his eyes as they spoke of it.
It wasn't his shame though. That belonged to the evil man that had done it… and Tor.
He stood and walked over to the boy, who was darker than he was, but lighter than most. Tor knelt first, then lowered himself all the way to the floor. Right cheek pressing the carpet and his own tears started again.
“I failed you by not finding out about him sooner. I had the chance and the right to question him and didn’t do it correctly. If I had, I would have killed him earlier. I cannot ask forgiveness, for it has not been earned. I ask only that if payment be required for my failure, that you assess the cost from me alone, not those I serve.” Then Tor went silent. So did the rest of the room.
The boy stared at him like he had a second head. That was fine, everyone else was too.
“How did you fail me?” Connor sounded baffled.
That got Tor to explain the whole thing, after he finished the boy held out a hand to him, to help him up. He had to pull hard for it to work, and Tor appreciated it, because he was starting to stiffen up a lot more than it seemed like he would. He could barely manage, and had to move to sit as soon as he could.
“Thank you sir. But I cannot accept your apology.” The boy sounded scared, and a gasp went up around the room.
Tor got that, those words were almost always followed by a declaration of war or a challenge to a duel. Obviously Tor couldn't fight a child, so, depending on what was done, it could be a death sentence for him. Possibly even if the kid just wanted to punch it out. Tor really didn't have a lot left. Still, if he demanded his life for the failure, well, Tor could understand that. He tried to ready himself, just in case.
“Connor?” Priscilla sounded scandalized and totally confused.
After a few seconds the boy nodded, “I can't accept an apology for something that wasn't his fault. That's wrong too. It wasn't his fault and letting him take blame for it would be wronging him. I won't let that happen.” The voice was regal then. Not bold, not powerful at all, but there was a quiet dignity to it.
Stronger than Tor would have been in the same position by far.
Tor nodded to him. He was being released from blame in this, by the only person that could do it. That didn't leave him feeling any better, and the room still smelled of corruption and death, but it would have to serve. Tor stood and bowed.
Then suddenly sat again, nearly falling. Ouch. Everything was sore. It was just muscle pain at least, from pushing too hard like that. He'd live.
No one said anything for a long time and finally the boy moved to the woman next to him and hugged her like a small child. Which he was.
“Nanny, can we go and see the parade?” He spoke softly, as if he might not be allowed.
The Queen smiled then.
“That's not until this afternoon, but if you like you can watch with us from our box? It should have a fine view.”
The boy froze, then after a minute and a covert push to his left shoulder from Nanny, he bowed.
“Thank you ma'am, that offer is most welcome and kind.”
It was a bit of a relief for Tor when they left, to get a snack and rest after the trials of the morning, leaving him only with his family and friends.
Weasel shook his head and made a face.
“Remind me not to get in a shoving match with you, huh?” He grinned and gave Tor a small hug with a bit of back pounding.
“Can I have one of your fast carriages? If yes, is it all right if I make copies of it? I have an idea for a special transport service I can run out of school in Printer, if I can get a hold of one.” It was a blunt statement, and everyone in the room stared at the boy, not yet Twelve.
Tor shrugged.
“You can make copies without a template?”
The boy grinned and pulled a force lance from his pocket and handed it to Tor without pause.
It was still a bit of a risk, but Tor let his field brush it.
“Oh ho!” Tor would have jumped to his feet, but didn't. That would have hurt too much.
Everyone else looked at him, but Rolph was the one that asked.
“He copied it?”
“No, Rolph, it's not a copy. It's not a force lance even, it's… What is it Weasel? An air river?”
“Something like that.” The boy smiled but didn't break eye contact at all.
Tor sighed.
“It's a novel build. It's his too. He built it. Alone as far as I can tell. He hasn't even gone to school for it…” If there was awe in his voice, well, there should have been. That and pride, tears came to his eyes again.
Stupid tears, always making him look like a little girl.
“Builder Weasel.” Tor intoned seriously, tilting his head in a nod.
“Builder Baker” The King gave a half bow to the boy.
Then everyone else followed suit.
Tor shrugged again, which actually hurt a bit now and stretched a little, hands going up towards the ceiling, back arching for a bit. It didn't really help anything, but he still had things to do that day and wasn't really strong enough to risk a healing yet, so he'd need to just deal and that meant keeping in motion if he didn't want to freeze up.
“OK… Mom, I'm keeping Timon with me for the time being, so we can drill on building skills until he goes off to school. If that's all right? I'll have to attach him to the Lairdgren group for now, so that Lyn Cooper can watch out for him. She's solid, which reminds me…”
