throat out while he slept made him glad he had a shield. The assassins would try it if they could, he had no doubt.
What didn't make sense was them trying so hard to kill him. It was like they hated him personally for some reason, but no one would tell him why at all. It wasn't like he'd wronged them, was it? Tor couldn't think of anything at all. Well, now, after he'd beaten them in a fight and then they had their limbs sliced off, sure, that could generate some hard feelings, but before that? Not even thwarting them at Queen's day should have done it.
It wasn't hard to get the transport to find them, because it could be seen easily enough against the early morning sky, black and shining, and they gave course corrections from the ground, talking until Major Godfrey set down. He walked out and looked around for a moment, then moved straight to Smythe who stood by the even bigger Count Ward. Godfrey looked tiny compared to them even if he still stood nearly six-five or six. He had rust red hair still, shorter than when they last met, reminding the builder that he needed to get his own cut soon. It was long now. Not girl long, but shaggy and past his collar by several inches, having grown fast in the last months for some reason. Possibly just because he hadn't cut it since he left school. Much longer and people would think he was a girl, instead of a young boy.
The Major did his military stuff, secret handshake or whatever they called it, saluting? Tor actually knew what it was, having had hundreds of people salute him at Wildlands, but now he didn't care. Godfrey had kind of taken his home from him. That it was the Major's home too mattered, but it was still kind of pushy and made him less than thrilled with the man.
Tor just started getting people loaded on the transport. The Larvals were floated in first, by Sara, who was used to handling multiple loads of cargo at once, that being her job at the moment. She was good at it, taking moments to do something Tor had dreaded as a complex chore. Everyone else looked a bit impressed too. Of course, emergency or not, most of them were young men and were actually impressed by her figure. In a tan military outfit that wasn't exactly sexy, she looked good anyway.
He still felt tired, really exhausted, like someone had nearly killed him and brought him back… or possibly drugged him. Either was possible in his world now. Which sucked, wickedly. Suppressing a yawn he suggested that everyone load up. Even if they had to wait they could at least do it sitting down for comfort right?
He didn't load his trunks into the vehicle just sitting on one instead.
“Tor? Is there a problem?” This came from Godfrey who was at least trying for polite, even if the last time they'd met it had gone badly. Sure, he should have just waited, not gotten in a snit over something trivial like being kept out of his own house by abusive armed military personnel. Just waited and when he got in made sure everyone could recognize his face somehow, so it wouldn't happen again. What he'd done wasn't the good or reasonable course of action. No it had been an abuse of his power. Still, he wasn't going to apologize for it.
He'd been punished enough, hadn't he?
“Nah. It's fine. I'm just waiting for everyone else to board so that if I have to sit on the floor or something to make everything fit I can. I'm smaller than anyone else, so if anyone gets wedged in it might as well be me.” He even sounded tired.
Godfrey nodded.
“Good plan. I think we'll have enough room though, notice this transport is bigger than the others? Holds seventy-five. I used standard plates for it. Works just fine though. Countess Thorgood gave me the idea. She's built a vast one, you can walk around inside it. Well, you made the plates so you probably know, but it's impressive. Did a lot of the work herself, her with the, uh, “ladies of industry” most of them are pilots now too, so they helped. Ready to begin taking on passengers soon.” The man smiled. “I mean the kind for flying. Not the other.”
Either way, it worked.
Tor nodded and got on board, his three cases hovering behind him. He'd come with four, but didn't have a box off pastries to share this time. An oversight. He'd have to talk to the Larvals about that, since if he'd known their plan he could have had some ready to go. Attackers just never seemed to think about things like that for some reason.
Kind of rude really.
Once in the air Tor tried to sleep, still exhausted, ending up sitting next to Count Ward and Smythe who took up about seventy-five percent of a four person bench between them. It worked well enough and the ride, while hungry and boring, was at least fast, smooth and relatively comfortable.
That was until the prisoners all started defecating and pissing themselves in some kind of biological warfare attack. Some of the men argued for covering the boxes, which was tempting, but not humane, since they'd suffocate to death. The prisoners still had to breath after all. Smythe sniffed and grimaced himself, then turned to the men in back.
“Not a wonderful scent, but we'll live. We can't land, in case an ambush has been set and this is the goad to set us up. We don't know what capabilities these assassins have, so we can't take chances.” He held up his right stump and waved it, looking at it until everyone else did too.
“Underestimate an opponent at your own peril… But not mine!” The man sounded confident and like a leader, chuckling slightly at his own deformity. It cut the grumbling by half at least. It was a real point after all and even the Ward men had to respect a military Counselor. He was sitting in the same transport they were after all. No special privileges there.
Tor closed his eyes and worked. He didn't have materials with him, but an idea had come, though he didn't know from where. It was simple enough, really he could have done it for over a year before without doing a novel build at all. Now all he needed was the stuff to make it fun. A bit of glitter maybe? It was just an amusement really, but seemed like something people would enjoy. Tor knew that fun wasn't what he should be focused on at the moment, but then… why not? He didn't have anything else to do and most people liked it, or so he'd heard.
They didn't, as he'd thought they might, land at the palace, but outside the gate that he used to think of at the main one. Doing a bit of calculation and remembering which hand was his left he realized it was the west gate. The nicest one, with a nifty little red building out front and a landing spot for flyers marked with fresh white arrows, four of them pointing inward. That was the Two Bends fast delivery service headquarters for the Capital. His family’s business, if a new one. They still ran the local bakery in his home village too.
Near the building there were city guard in their red outfits with white trim, all holding weapons. Military grade force lances of his own design by the fields on them. Well, if they were planning an attack it would not be going well for them against this crew. Tor took out his shining and colorful weapon as he got off and saw them. He didn't point it, in fact he pretended to be directing his cases with it. Always best to look like less than you were, right? No one stared at him any more than they normally would at someone with floating luggage.
The city guard, good men basically, if too tall and scary, weren't the Royal Guard at all. As Sara and Trice came out with the Larval, one of the men stepped forward, glancing around with a stolid look on his face. Well, really he looked a bit pissed off and constipated at the same time, but that wasn't a kind thought, so he let it fade. Tor recognized him, kind of. Captain… Curtis? He'd been the first person from the Capital Tor had talked too, but he doubted the man would recognize him after nearly a year.
“Gentles… I regret to inform you that his Majesty King Richard Cordes has ordered all of you detained for questioning. Please come with us peacefully.”
Tor froze, because that didn’t make sense.
Not at all.
