Maria looked at him hopefully.
“So you believe us? That we didn't attack the Queen or poison all those people?” She sounded young and a little like she was playing him for effect. He got it, but that didn't mean they were guilty. Tor decided to just be honest.
“Not really. There's a lot of evidence showing guilt, still, if you are innocent then we need to prove it and if you're guilty and trying to play me, well, if it stops a war, then play away. I know what’s coming here, I made most of it, and really, if you're not working directly with the Austrans and don't have a large amount of super weapons laying around in secret… Well, I don't think your County will survive. I've tried to keep my contributions non-lethal, but with something like forty thousand people coming at you with class five shields, air chokes and the new force lances, they don't have to be turned off, like the ones I told you about earlier? Ten thousand or more people with Not-flyers coming over land, or even water, at eighty miles an hour and all of them out for blood… well, I'm not going to ask what you have, in case they try to force me to tell later, but it seems that stopping this peacefully is the best course by far. Even if it means we all end up dead ourselves.”
Stiffly, Maria nodded, with tears in her eyes.
Well what did they expect? They declared war! That simply did not look friendly. Tor tried to think of something that would seem more like a declaration of guilt to everyone in Noram and couldn't. If they'd said, “ha ha, we attacked you good” in a letter to the King it would only seem as guilty, not more. Tor had them sit down and write out the whole thing themselves, explaining everything, then sign it in front of him. He wrote a line saying that this was written by them in front of him personally, without duress, and had them initial it.
Then he wrote his own letter and got them to sign that they read it as well. Neither of them liked what he said much, but both put their signatures to it. It was more than a little surly and pissy on his part, but as he mentioned to them, he was tired and already knew that he wasn't getting any sleep that night. He couldn't rest there after all. Maria seemed hurt when he said that, looking around as if he was saying their place wasn't good enough for him, that made him laugh out loud. Really laugh. He had to cover his mouth and tried to explain since she looked very put upon about the whole thing.
“Oh, no, it's not that, I normally live in a single room focus stone shack with three other people, this place is great. Really at least as nice as the King’s palace itself in a lot of ways, which reminds me Martin…” He hadn't used the counts name before, he was older than Tor by at least twenty years, but he didn't blink at it now, so they were either friends or the man really just didn't care about titles that much.
“Take better care of your mother and sister will you?” Tor held up his right hand, it was a tired half wave. “I know, Petra has her own life now and all that, but seriously, that house your mom's in needs major work. It has a wall now, to keep the lizards out, and should be a little more comfortable, but the furniture all needs to be replaces due to mold damage and she should have servants other than just Georges.”
Tor kind of expected to be yelled at then, but the Count simply nodded, giving a small seated bow and Maria looked down at the table, a shame filled expression on her face.
“That's all my fault. I've never gotten along with Petra, not since, well, you know. I deserved it, being beaten for saying those things to you. I can't deny that now, but it set things in motion in a bad way, so I've been cruel to her. I should have tried harder to fix that but… No, that's wrong. I should have tried fixing it at all, I never really did. I promise I will and that we'll make sure Ellen is taken care of.” She smiled gently.
Nodding his head for a second Tor remembered something Rolph had said to him once. Someone had just attacked him at the time and he was blaming Captain Wensa of the Royal Guard. The Prince had checked with his parents in the Capital not just to make sure they hadn't tried to have him killed, but that no one had said to “take care of Tor” meaning they wanted him to get hugs and tucked in at night, only to have that misconstrued as “kill him now”.
At least the other two laughed when he told them about the whole thing, then apologized again, since Maria had already admitted that she had put Laval up to that attack on him. One of them at least.
That settled, Tor asked if they could plan to stay in their capital for the next few weeks or so, in case he needed to find them in order to take them off to trial or execution or something like that. It was morose humor, but they agreed, as long as he promised to make certain their people weren't harmed. Well. If they wanted to trick him into helping them, that was the way to his heart. Being willing to sacrifice themselves to save their friends and charges… Yeah, that touched him more than a little.
Tor took off before even false dawns light.
He hadn't eaten which burned at his gut a little, but he'd been hungry before in life and probably would be again. He'd live. Tor just wasn't going to sleep in Warden. If they were trying to set a trap, it wouldn't pay to make it too easy on them, would it?
The flight back felt like it took longer, and probably did, since he'd gone off course pretty badly, ending up flying north at least several hundred miles before daylight came and let him make corrections. As tempted as he was to simply fly straight to the palace, it was forbidden to fly in the city still. Apparently in the first weeks the flyers made their in-town debut, several young nobles had decided that racing as fast as possible through the city streets, about five feet from the ground, made for an interesting game. They had shields after all, so what could go wrong? None of them had been hurt, though several others had been.
One a child who's back had been broken. It didn't seem likely the boy would ever walk again. Tor wondered if he could help fix that with a healing device. If not, would a Not-flyer be able to help the boy get around?
Maybe. He'd have to check on that situation if he ever got the chance. The flying rigs were his invention and he'd personally made the ones that had harmed the boy, he didn't doubt. It would only be right to try and help if possible. Make sure he was either fixed or would never want for anything. Both if possible. Tor sighed. It was always something wasn't it? He was tired and desperately wanted to just curl up and sleep, but knew he couldn't. This was too important to put off, just for his own comfort. What if the attack were already set and his nap made him too late to stop it? No, he had to keep going. No matter what.
The main city gates were open, but guarded when he got there, the morning guard saw him and just waved. Small guy with floating luggage, that pretty much had to be him, right? That or the guard didn't care as long as he wasn't committing a crime. Either way worked for him. At least he hadn't been banned from the city yet. Probably. It could be that the guy on duty just couldn't be bothered to stop him or hadn't looked at the papers that told him not to let any builders in if they were too short or something.
The trip through the city was always a trick. It was early still, most shops were just opening, some of them smelling very good, but again, stopping wasn't in the picture, as hungry as he was. If he messed this up and people died, it would be on him. And the Wards.
Mostly them, but right now was his part, not theirs. It took nearly an hour to get to the palace gate, and from the bell clock in town he could tell it was nine in the morning. It may have been too early to visit. Then again, he wouldn't know unless he tried, would he? He looked a mess still, covered in dried blood, teeth needing to be brushed and hair desperately wanting both a washing and brushing. The only positive was that, since growing a beard he never looked like he had two days growth going on any more.
For once he didn't even get to the gate guard house before the main gate opened. Standing in the center of it was Richard Cordes himself. The King. Tor raised an eyebrow as the man took several steps forward. He tried at least. Both eyebrows going up at the same time, probably looking shocked instead of skeptical.
“Well at least this time you came to tell me to buzz off yourself. This isn't a social call. I have documents for you and Connie to look at. I mean the Queen. Prince Alphonse Cordes too, if he's around, I'd guess, and any counts, advisors or intelligent stable boys you have in this place that want to listen in.” Tor waited as the King stiffened slightly and looked like he'd just been punched in the balls. The idea very nearly made Tor smile, since he could literally do that with an uppercut on the giant. If he could get close enough. For some reason the King didn't say anything, just led him into the palace with a simple hand gesture and a stilted turn. It made Tor wonder if commandos were about to pop from the walls again. True, last time it had been Smythe of Westend behind that, but the man was still walking free. After all, trying to kill Tor didn't count as far as the law went. Literally, he realized, at least at the level these people played. No law said they couldn't kill him.
Rich asked Tor to sit in the meeting room, it was one that had a large table, an extremely ugly oval one that probably cost more than some entire families made in a year. Focus stone would have been both cheaper and more durable, as well as nicer looking. Except that he hadn't created the process to make it when this table had been made. From the sense of its field he wondered if his mother had even been born then. Tor sat at the far end of the table, not the head of it, he didn't think, the opposite position. The guest chair, so to speak.
