thing but he stopped her.
“Debbie… let's skip this part and just pretend that we went through the weeks of you saying I knew what I did, with me walking around pulling my hair out trying to think of what that could be. I haven't stinted you on money, and yeah, I gave some devices away, but trust me those girls wouldn't have been buying anyway and may get the word out…” He threw his hands up with a little, worried, smile.
Then she told him, bitterly, that it was nothing.
“Oh, forgot that part, OK, so now, moving past that, me going on about how it obviously is something, you claiming it isn't for days and we get to the real reason which is…”
She laughed at least, which was better than crying or hitting would have been.
“Well, I… I made clear overtures to you, inviting you in after work, suggesting we go out to eat and you keep turning me down! I'm not ugly, am I? Or unpleasant some way? I-” Now she started to tear up.
Oh… that. Well, he really should have known, but being a moron, what could be expected of him really?
“Debbie… well, it's not fair to you, but it comes down to this; you look too much like my older sister. Taller, but if we dressed you the same, at a distance people would be fooled. So really, I can't do that. It's nothing wrong with you, you're very good looking, so is Tamerlane, both great looking actually, but you can see that right? How it might be off-putting to me?”
It ended about then, with her clearly not believing that was his real issue, but apparently seeing it as a good excuse for all that, as if he were putting her off for some other reason. What that could be he just didn't know. He'd really told her his actual reason. Then she loaded him with a small trunk field loaded with gold for his trip. It wasn't his share of the last day’s proceeds, it was just so that he'd have money to invest as he traveled. He'd gotten her doing the same, helping out vendors, working on projects to help employ the cities poor and things like that.
The idea had actually been Countess Printers originally. Tor had wanted to use some of the money from sales of items there to help people, after the storm, but she pointed out that giving things away only worked in the short run. That people needed to work and earn their place to feel good about themselves. It made enough sense that he'd tried to adopt the practice himself, when he had extra funds. Yes, it meant he'd never have as much gold as some people, but how much did he need? He could make his own luxuries to a good extent now and didn't even need to buy clothing any more. Personally his expenses were down to food, and bathing supplies. What would that take, four gold a year? Ten if he splurged and ate out a lot?
If he couldn't afford to share, who could?
Debbie had also given him a small box with food for the trip, pastries and meat hand pies made by her relative, who turned out to be her brother. The man was called Box, but that couldn't be his real name, Tor didn't think. Still he smiled and seemed happy enough to be baking in the city with his sister. It seemed that he’d had some problems in their home village and needed to get out of town. Something about a girl, Tor thought, but didn't pry.
It was a good job, the man said, a friendly gleam in his eye, and he'd met a girl already, who he was pretty sure only wanted him because his sister had all those magic things, but she had sex with him, so that was fine for now, right?
Shrugging Tor pulled out a few amulets from his own gear and passed them to Box, in front of his sister, so that she'd know they were pure gifts and not filched from inventory.
“Spread them out for a bit and make sure she doesn't get pregnant. Have fun, but don't saddle yourself with someone only interested in your wealth, you know?” The man clapped him on the back and whooped a little. Then brushed at the flour hand print he'd left.
Debbie looked at him sadly as he left, wistfully, as if attaching herself to him romantically would be something a woman might want. It made Tor wonder who she was spying for. Sure, it would have to be a new thing, but it could happen. For that matter Box could have been a trained spy. Well, hopefully the girl was real at least.
Spies need love too, right?
The gate guards made him wait while they tried to find someone that could vet him. He paced a little, but just for the exercise of it, he knew why he had to wait and agreed with it, even if it was a pain in the rear this time of day. Smythe of Westend came, but the main gate guard, a Royal Guard after all, looked down his nose at the man and shook his head.
“No sir. Needs to be one of the royal family. Besides, you keep trying to kill Master Tor. I give him over to you and he ends up dead, how does that make me look? We wait.” They did, but Smythe went in to see if he could rouse anyone. It took a long time, but the gate guard didn't change, so there was no threat of a beating if he didn't leave at least. That had happened before. The night he'd met Debbie in fact.
Finally, about an hour later a sleepy looking Karina came out with two familiar girls in tow. Lilli, who still had one brown and one green eye, and the short busty girl. They were all identically dressed in slightly shining gold dresses and floated across the ground using Not-flyers. When they got closer they all looked tired, exhausted in fact. Once through the gate he realized that all the girls were more than slightly drunk.
Brilliant.
The way to safety for a royal was always dressing up in bright clothing and making a display of themselves while drunk.
Probably why so many of them did it.
He shook his head and led them in, walking in a plain gray workmen's outfit himself.
“Seriously Karina… You too Lilli and…” He flounder for a second, he knew who Yardley was, the dun colored girl that didn't have acne any more, unless it came back, but this one…
“Ali.” She said, mustering up a smile through force of will. She was still cute, even half drunk like this, Tor noticed. A little round of face, and light colored of hair, but not blond, an off brown, he thought. She looked sleepy, like a little kid for some reason.
“Right, Ali, when you're here, try to blend with the servants, will you? Stand out in town to catch attention as advertising, sure, because the Austrans won't think that I'd have the Princess out working like that, I don't think. But here, try not to make yourselves a target, OK? You'll make the Royal Guard pull half their hair out and then they'll be all lumpy and funny looking, instead of dapper and conscientious, you don't want that, do you? Of course not.” He kept walking while they failed to even chuckle at his words. Well, it was early. Plus, they probably wouldn't be feeling too well soon from the hangover. Tor decided to leave them that, just in case it helped to curb further drinking later. It was mean, but was it really a kindness to make things too easy on people?
If he always did that, how would anyone ever learn?
The girls just wondered off once inside, leaving him on his own. That was fine really. He’d need help, but it would probably work better if that aid was sober.
Tor started in the King’s open audience, where Rich tended to meet with people most of the time, at least from what Tor had heard. It took about a minute for Tor to get someone’s attention, waving his hands and calling out awkwardly, but he started explaining how the communications device worked and finally, five minutes later, a half dozen people were standing behind him, wanting him to explain again. Three Royal Guards, two servants he kind of recognized, including Quavel, the Queen’s main servant. Her butler? Something like that, and last was Squire Gemma, who got a hug from him. Their shields bumped, which made him grin and whisper “good girl” gently into her ear. It sounded like he was talking to a dog, which made him wince a little over her shoulder, but she seemed happy enough about it.
The sigils, all in glowing light in different colors, weren't sigils at all, but spelled out complete names. By tapping a plate to the main device it was activated. It was naturally an unassuming piece of tan focus stone, nearly a true square about the size of a block of ice, with lights shooting through it to indicate it was working and make it look more interesting, since he wanted to keep it in the audience chamber for safety and ease of access. That meant it needed to look special, he figured.
Once turned on, all you had to do was tap a name sigil and you'd talk with the corresponding device as if you were in the room with them. Simple. Each time a new plate was activated the name showed up on all the other plates. Yes, he could only fit about a hundred on each, but who'd need something like this? The second name on all the devices was his and would reach the plate he'd carry with him. Tor explained it all four times, how a bright blue light would glow, signaling someone wanted to talk to you, their name glowing blue as well, raising a little out of the surface of the hand piece or plate, so you'd know who. You tapped it to talk, then again to end the conversation. Simple once you saw it once or twice.
