Tor had just been comparing the size to the palace of all things. Because that made sense. A hastily constructed mud hut was exactly like that.
Tor snorted, but kept working.
The walls went up easily enough. He made them extra stout; because the compressor was preset to make sheets of solid earth about a foot thick. Hard as stone and waterproof, it turned dirt into a good working material, which looked more like fine, shiny stone than mud at least. The door was a bit of a problem, because he didn’t have any wood, or way of making hinges, so Tor formed a hallway that shifted back and forth three times instead. That way no one would just walk in by accident, or see him changing clothes, but it didn’t take any other materials like wood or metal, to make. It would also let air in and out, which was important. The structure was tight at the seams and that could foul things fast if people were breathing inside.
The roof turned out to be the biggest issue of the day.
He was able to make thick roof plates easily enough, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out that using a cargo float would work to get it up into place. He had to fly to do it, but only to roof height, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. His still shaky hands were a problem, but by going slow he balanced the huge thing on the top of the slanted roof after only a half dozen or so tries.
When he turned the float off, tied in place with a pieces of string to the stone, the whole slab slid right off the roof and hit the ground with a huge thud. The impact was so hard that Tor could feel the ground move, even from his position about four feet up in the air. Of course the string broke, letting the plate fall to the ground where it ended up with the whole thing laying on top of it.
It took about half an hour to get it back in the air, and another hour to figure out that if he put dirt in place on the top of the wall all the way around carefully, he could use the compressor to tack it on before letting the field go and then pack the paper thin seams that were left with dirt and seal those as well. That took most of the morning and a bit of the early afternoon. Then he just had to finish sealing the ridge line of the roof by packing it with dirt several times, building up a smooth, but flat, top line.
So he had a house now, the shell of one at least. No food and no running water yet, but that could be dealt with, if he hurried. Tor just put the chests inside, emptying his work and clothing chest, and setting all the materials on the ground, then took about twenty gold and tucked it inside his shirt in a small canvas bag. He did make a point of washing up as best he could in the stream before he headed back into the Capital. It wouldn’t do to have people think he was dirty after all. Had to uphold the good name of quasi-fugitive trolls everywhere, didn’t he?
It was a dark thought, worse, it wasn’t true. He wasn’t that bad looking. He looked like his brothers, who were all fine enough that they got their share of attention in the little village, and his older brother Taler had even managed to find a fairly cute wife. Tor should be about in the same general league, right? Not a troll.
He tried to tell himself this for a while, but found his thoughts floating back to the fact that he must be, or that he might be stupid, or ugly, or both, and too stupid to know it? Heh, well, he figured, living out here, even if it was just for the time being, meant that there was no one to judge him. Now if he just could to get into town without scaring anyone and get a few supplies it would be fine.
The flight was uneventful, he landed by the gate they normally came in by, which was the nicest one, near the good neighborhoods, if the ones farthest away from the palace. It wasn’t that Tor was hiding; it was just that he wanted to get established at least to the level of having a real camp, before telling everyone where he was. Some running water, a chair or two. Maybe a nice, thick, defensible wall… Some weapons capable of defending against the King’s army, or a few errant commando squads. That kind of thing.
His shopping took a long time, not because it was hard to get places, but honestly, he really didn’t know where to find the shops at all. Finally, floating slightly above the ground, wearing his old students uniform Tor had to finally give in and ask an old woman if she knew where he could find the central market.
She seemed nice enough looking, gray haired, wearing clothing that was dun colored and sturdy, rather than flashy and meant to impress. She was taller than he was, even with the extra four inches the Not-flyer gave him and though she looked at the air under his feet she didn’t comment on it directly, at first. Instead she smiled and winked, then mentioned it.
“I’m not sure if floating in the air will get you past the military recruiters, but it’s a noble attempt none the less. That must have cost you a pretty penny. Tor-shoes aren’t they? Like the Prince has? I just heard about them yesterday myself. Still, if my recollections of the last war are right, you’d be better off just waiting about a year. They get desperate enough for bodies to fill the ranks against the Austrans and they’ll be willing enough to pretend twelve is a short fourteen.”
It took an act of will for Tor not to simply sputter at her.
“Um, I’ve been out of town since last night, but, what? There’s a war? I swear there wasn’t when I left!” Had they gone and messed things up that much already?
“Oh, well, that would do it. The Austrans haven’t attacked yet, but they declared war last night. Whole kingdoms in an uproar, surprised you haven’t heard about it. Kind of out of the blue too. No “incident” to get things going, just a declaration of their intent to come at us. Guess they got bored again? Anyway, the markets where the main recruiting is going on for the Capital. Makes it a pain to get any shopping done, boys rushing off to die like they are. If you’re wise you’ll take my advice and wait though. No one will think less of you for reaching your growth first.”
Taking a deep breath Tor tried to figure out what to do. God, a war. He hadn’t even heard that Austra was making moves like that at all. Well, the first thing he needed to do was get with Debri house and make sure they knew to keep up with the military contracts… No. First he needed to talk to Rich and Connie. If they could be spared to talk to him at all. This was no time for him to be running around being needy any more.
Dropping into a trance he forced himself to relax and put everything that had happened aside. All of it. If they needed him, if he could do anything to be of help, he’d do it. Tor could bake, or run messages if nothing else. True, Smythe wasn’t his best friend right now, but they’d just have to get past their little situation and get to work anyway. If the man wanted to waste his time killing Tor, then he was too stupid to be in charge of the military and while the man wasn’t his buddy, he hadn’t really seemed like a moron. Maybe a bit misguided? Well, they’d deal. It was war after all.
It took nearly an hour for him to get to the palace, he was making good enough time, way better than he would have in a carriage, but he kept getting lost on the winding streets and had to stop several times when crowds of people holding impromptu rallies to support the troops got in his way. When that happened he just cheered and sang along with the people as he walked through the crowd, if he could understand the words to whatever it was they were singing at all. A lot of the people had gotten drunk already and weren’t exactly chanting words as much as grunting along in rough time with the others. Most were just made up chants about how evil and bad the Austrans were. One of them was actually pretty lewd, and listening to housewives chant about the sexual inadequacy of Austran men made him blush and laugh at the same time.
Given everything Tor expected trouble at the gate and decided that he’d just camp out as best he could until someone came through that could take word inside for him. Tovey or someone he knew had to come through eventually, and when they did he’d try to get their attention, if anyone was even speaking to him right now. He didn’t think he’d be in trouble, well, maybe a fine for flying inside the city limits, but leaving to protect Connie’s good name probably wasn’t a capital offense yet, even if he hadn’t been given permission to go. The guard eyed him nervously for a second, a younger man, but one that he’d seen before at least.
“Excuse me, I’m Torrence Baker, Um, Countier four Lairdgren, maybe a Squire still, possibly not, sometimes people call me Tor? Anyway, I know that it’s probably too much to ask to be let in, but would it be possible to get a message to-” Before he could finish the young man smiled and started blowing a whistle. It was a loud thing, enough to hurt his ears and he was standing a good ten feet away. The poor guard must have been doing hearing damage to himself. He made three short, sharp bursts on it.
“One moment sir,” was all that he said.
Well, Tor figured that if he’d just called in the military to attack him again, at least the guy was being more polite about it than Smythe had been. While the whistle was off-putting, it wasn’t a sneak attack. Instead of the military in their all black outfits, or even the black and purple of more Royal Guard, Varley ran out of the palace. Actually, she didn’t run at all, she floated over, faster than could have been run in the dress she wore, by about four times.
“Tor! Good, we didn’t know where you were. There’s a huge meeting, I’m supposed to check people out at the gate. If I don’t know you, you don’t get in. This is Tor, Kevin, he’s all right. He should be the first name on the
