something that can do even more damage than that?”
“Um, well, I… don’t have an army? If I have to fight one, I’m going to need to be able to do a little more than just stand and be beaten like some kind of spineless moron with the personality of a doorstop. You know?”
“I… see.” Richard didn’t pursue it any further at least, not directly he took a deep breath and nodded to himself for a few seconds, as if thinking about something. Finally he just nodded.
“So,” The King continued after a few moments, the words drawing out at a measured pace. “Do you plan on making war on Duchy Morgan?” The tone was soft and serious.
The laughter bubbled up out of him. Really, he couldn’t help it; it got worse as he watched their faces fall, concerned looks all around until Rolph suddenly stuck his tongue out at him and laughed along. Sure, the laughter had a strained, maniacal edge to it, but that didn’t matter. It was just the very idea of a great open battle field with him standing on one side and ten thousand men standing on the other. When he caught his breath he tried to explain.
“What am I going to do? Kill thousands of people because my little feelings are hurt? That’s… not sane. I mean, even if Eric and Mercy were behind trying to poison me or… or if it was Trice herself,” The idea struck him harder than he’d thought it would, once he said the words out loud. It seemed too likely when he thought about it. But the idea hurt too much to bear.
“Well, going “to war” like you all keep saying, would be punishing innocent people for what a guilty few had done. I was really mad at first, sure, but now that I’ve had some time to think about things… no. I won’t do that.”
The Queen looked relieved, which Tor understood, it was her sister’s family after all. He swallowed before he said the next bit, but it had to be said, it had to be out in the open so that the King didn’t get caught off guard later. That, Tor knew, catching the man unawares, had to be a bad plan.
“But… Connie, if they come after me, or if they try to hurt my family… or reputation or… or anything… I won’t hurt innocent people over it, but I won’t let that stand either. I don’t think that means “going to war” as you all keep saying, but… I won’t just take it either.”
Her face fell, and went pale, but next to her on his own throne, Richard started to nod slowly.
“That’s fair and wise Tor. No one expects you to simply roll over and die on command, or to take abuse heaped and thrown. I’ll take your word not to go to war over the issue as a pledge? We’ll endeavor to make this clear to them before anything negative results.”
After that was said, Tor kind of expected the meeting to be over and for him to be sent on his way, or perhaps back to the party. What happened instead was that the King, without preamble called for some servants to come and rearrange the chairs, placing Rolph’s on the King’s right side, the heirs position, and Tor’s on the left of the Queen, which she whispered to him was the Queen’s Councilor’s position. She said it with a sad grin.
Since he’d basically just threatened to do something vaguely menacing to her sister he wondered how the woman managed to even bear having him in the same room with her, but shrugged it off mentally.
It was probably just that they were used to nobles getting in a snit and making threats like that all the time. Tor doubted that he could kill anyone even if they were trying to kill him. Even when he thought that Wensa was actively going to murder him, the closest he got was threatening her and that really only worked because as a Royal Guard she would have done it, which meant she had to figure Tor would do the same. Totally different mindsets
New chairs were brought in, nearly matching the ones he and Rolph had, wood almost stained black, with deep forest green cushions on the seats instead of gray. The backs had ornate carvings that he envied the workmanship of, now that he had a chance to really see it in front of him. Whoever had made these was an artist, not just a furniture maker. The whole room was like that, when he glanced around. Filled with art, built into the very walls.
He’d grown up in a room he shared with all his brothers that didn’t even have paint, much less art. Very different.
It struck him then that he really didn’t belong in a place like this. It was like trying to make water and oil mix, and stay that way. You could work hard, shaking and stirring frantically, and get it to kind of looked mixed for a while, but eventually the truth of how different they were came out, the oil separated and floated to the top. Of course he wasn’t the rich oil, but the plain water underneath. That was probably what had to happen he realized. It was why he couldn’t be at the fine school any more, or marry Trice, or even be loved at all. He was too plain. Too bland.
But like water, sometimes he could be useful, couldn’t he? Water, as much as anything, common as it was, made the world work.
The first person to be brought in was Ambassador Mutta who smiled when she saw him and gave a small wave. He winked back, knowing from what the strange woman had said that she was nearly as out of place here as he was and could probably use a friend about now.
Couldn’t they all?
It was interesting, watching them all dance politically, and the delicate interplay of words, that Mutta stumbled over and that nearly put Rolph to sleep. The Queen, oddly enough, handled almost all of the discussion, which alternately seemed to amuse and displease her husband. Finally, a little abruptly for the room apparently, Mutta held up her hand and smiled.
“What I really want is one of your above ground desalination systems. I know that my people can’t make one, the best we can do is a small trickle compared to what I saw on the tour last week and how it floats in the air like that… Well, what would it take to get you to part with it?”
The King smiled and flatly refused.
“It’s too valuable to us, even if it’s only needed every few years. Perhaps we could loan it to you part time?”
After about ten minutes of this Tor started shaking his head, which got the Queen’s attention.
“Tor… Something?”
“Yes, that won’t work. It’s like I said at dinner Ambassador, you need a lot more water than that, and a drainage system in place on the ground or, well I suppose an overflow system could be built to take things back to the ocean in the air, but that kind of defeats the purpose. You really want irrigation that will run constantly. The distances are too great anyway. The falcon wouldn’t even reach half way for what you need, not from what you said and if you’re going to do it right you need a much higher volume of clean water.”
The woman’s face fell.
“I see. So there’s no hope of this working for us?”
“Not that way. I’ll have to build all new field devices to get the work done; it will take a couple months. Well, that’s not really honest, I could do it faster, but I’ve got a wall to build first, and a few other small things to take care of and I don’t want to neglect my other promises. Also, you know, I don’t really have a home right now, being an itinerant wonderer wasn’t really a joke, so I need to get that together. But I think I can get the work done in two or three months baring emergencies. I…”
Across from the Queen the small, very brown, woman goggled at him, her mouth coming open a little. Then finally she smiled and nodded.
“Ah! A joke I see? You are the jester then? I haven’t been clear on that. I really expected more singing. That and bells. The description in the packet spoke of bright colors and little shoe bells. Though there was some confusion as to if that is a Tellerand thing or not.”
Laughing he shook his he’d. “Oh god no. You really don’t want me to sing. No, it’s not a joke, the thing is, I don’t know if I’m allowed to do this for you. Can I deal with a foreign power on my own? That seems a little like overreaching on my part. So you have to go through the King on that. If they,” he gestured at the royals as a group. “Say it’s all right, then I think I can get the rest done. Well, the equipment side at least. Your people will have to do the actual work and get the seeds in the ground, then tend and monitor the whole thing. I’ll really just do the easy part.”
For some reason Mutta kept acting like the whole thing was a joke, even after both the monarchs assured her that not only could he do the work he promised, but was allowed too. After a few minutes the Queen looked at the ambassador and explained again in a fairly forceful voice. A little snappish really, considering she was dealing with the Ambassador of another land.
“Mutta. I know that Afrak is run and controlled by women, but here in Noram we don’t have such artificial
