If he was allowed back in the Capital at all.
Early in the morning of his off days, before it was really even light, he took off for the woman’s house. It turned out, once he read the paper she’d sent for him with instructions as to where she lived, that she was a Countess, or had been until her husband had died, leaving her to live in the dowager property when her oldest son inherited.
Ellen Ward was her name.
Ah. Well.
At first Tor almost backed out. Ward. Those people gave him the creeps. Then he realized that the woman, the Counts mother, had seemed polite and kind at the party, even after the whole Ursala thing. He couldn’t blame her for having a son that wasn’t… bright. The word moronic came to mind, and Tor smiled a bit as he packed things up, but then chided himself. Who was he to even think about such things? Ward hadn’t done anything to him after all. Well, he’d hit him about two hundred times, but that was only because Tor had been getting in his way, right?
County Ward was very nearly on the other side of the kingdom, about three thousand miles away, so he started off early and tried to fly as close to straight through as his bladder would allow. It only took about nine hours and that long only because his stomach finally forced him to stop in a small village and try to get some food.
He smelled out a little bakery, about the size of the one his parents held in Two Bends, but with a fresh coat of paint on the outside of it and a sign that had a loaf of bread and a small man standing behind it with a bread paddle. There was no name on the place, but that wasn’t too uncommon. Even in the Capital names were rare on shops. Everything there was designated by the type of place and location. Debbie’s was called “the bakery by the south wall and the Cartwright’s.” for instance. Here it was probably just “the bakery”. Why give it a more complicated name than it needed?
Tor didn’t have any money at all, not even a few pennies left for supplies. If Debri stopped sending him stuff, he’d have to go back to using wood and cheap paint, or even trying to collect stuff out of the woods. Rocks and branches. It would work, but was hardly professional looking. He took a deep breath and steeled himself as he walked through the door. The old man behind the counter smiled at him.
“Welcome! What can we do for you today?”
“Um, well, probably not much,” Tor began, keeping his voice humble. “I don’t really have any coin with me, but I have some things that I could trade, if you’re interested? Just some stuff I made, magical devices…”
The man didn’t frown at him, but his eyes fell a little dark. Sympathetic enough at least, Tor realized.
“Well then, let’s have a look, and see if there’s anything that we can trade for?” The man’s voice was pleasant and gentle, kind of like the way you’d speak to a lost child. That made sense when the royals did it, but this guy wasn’t any taller than he was. Not even an inch. Tor opened the luggage he had with him and laid a few things on the counter. The man’s eyes went wide.
“Well now! Even if they don’t do much I can trade you what you want for even one of these! All on copper right? They even look like Tor’s! People would wear one just to impress their friends you know. Well, you probably do know, if you made them yourself. Good plan that. Do any of them really do anything?”
“Oh sure… Here.” He showed the man how everything worked, one by one, at the end of it the man stood silent.
“What did you say your name was again?” He asked, staring at the devices on the counter.
“Oh…sorry, I didn’t, Torrence Baker. Call me Tor. Pleased to meet you.” Belatedly he stuck out his hand to shake with the man, leaning in from a good ways away as was proper back home when meeting someone new. The older fellow snorted slightly and shook his head.
“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be, and look younger too. Is that magic? Looking so young I mean?” He said bluntly but with good humor.
Tor shrugged, “Just the way I look. But… you think we can do business?”
The man finally traded three loaves of bread and some sweet rolls to him for a room temperature plate. The man offered a lot more, but Tor knew he wouldn’t be able to finish it all that day, and having baked goods a lot longer than that meant eating them stale or trying to make them into a pudding or something, which he didn’t really have the time or equipment for. Or the eggs. If there was a way of making a decent bread pudding without eggs, he didn’t know it.
He’d be back at school by then anyway. He thanked the old guy and started eating part of one of the wheat loaves as he walked out the front door, it was decent. His parents made better bread, but not that much better. Really it was a matter of taste and Tor simply preferred what he’d grown up with, most likely, rather than the fellow here lacking skill at all. Repacking everything he took off for County Ward again.
The dowager estate was nice enough, from a distance at least, a huge white house, that, while it had seen better days still looked like a wealthy person lived there. Tor could understand the moisture problem here now that he saw it, since the whole place seemed to be sitting on high ground in the middle of what was essentially a swamp. The humidity left him soaked clear through, since his body was cooler than the air around him.
Poor woman, being kept out here like this. He assumed it was her place at least, since there was nothing else even near it for miles and the compound had about twenty buildings scattered about it. No poor farmer would have that kind of set up, right? He’d only brought one of the house driers… Well, he’d just have to send her more, or bring them himself; now that he knew where to find her for sure. If, this was, he reminded himself, the right place.
He knocked on the door of the largest house, hoping that it would at least lead him in the right direction if he’d missed his mark. To his surprise the woman, Dowager Ward, answered the door herself, wearing a light looking tannish-gray skirt and a faded blue top, things that his own mother would have worn in the bakery. It made him feel better about her instantly. Royal or not, this wasn’t a woman that bothered to put on airs, not at home at least.
She stared at him for a few seconds before her face lit up.
“Oh! Master Tor! I didn’t expect to see you here… To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her voice sounded a little nervous, but then if she lived off in the middle of nowhere like this, having a sudden guest might throw her off. He struggled to put her at ease.
“I came to install that gift I promised you at the party? The one to help dry your house out? It really won’t take but a few moments and then I can get out of your hair. I’m really sorry to drop in unannounced like this, but given my typically thoughtless style I didn’t think of writing ahead until after you opened the door. Kind of makes it hard to get a letter out in a timely fashion. I can go and write one now, if I could borrow some paper and a pen? Seems a bit of a waste though… ” He smiled up at her, she was, now that he saw her standing, very tall for a woman. Even one of the royals. She must have been pushing nearly seven foot. Then, Count Ward was tall too, so that kind of made sense. She had that same kind of smooth looking dark skin the Count had and retty light brown eyes, if a little yellow around the edges with age.
She invited him in and immediately started to apologize for the state of the house. It looked clean to Tor, at least as nice as he and Rolph kept their room at school and Rolph was picky about things like that, constantly suggesting that they go over the room and never leave anything sitting out if they weren’t actively using it. The furniture looked old and worn, but the constant moisture probably ate at everything, aging it faster than it normally would have. The wood seemed to fare better than the fabric, which was something that he tried to make a note of. Eventually, if all went well, he’d have his own house and want to put things in it. Wood over soft things for durability. Check. Probably stone over wood if he had to live someplace damp like this then? Something to keep in mind.
The room did smell of mildew, strongly enough to be slightly off-putting, but then, that’s why he’d come, to help fix that. Tor set to work rapidly, finding a nice central location for the interior plate and then going outside with the Dowager Countess, which caused an elderly man to come running up carrying weapon. A spear with a corroded metal head on it. He didn’t point the weapon at Tor at least, just stood by panting while the older woman explained.
“We’ve an alligator problem in the swamp here. Originally a wall had been planned around the whole complex, but my Howard died before we got it finished. So, when I go outside, Georges here has to come and protect me, just in case… I’m sorry.” The woman looked saddened by the state of affairs which made Tor feel a little down himself.
