life, it was why people even thought he was a person really, instead of just a stereotype backwoods bumpkin.
“So no building at all then? For the rest of my life?” The words came out sounding sad and weak. A little helpless. Lost. So, the way he felt really.
That worked for him then.
Burks looked at him strangely, his body being held oddly still, “you can build. But no direct effect work for at least three months, and absolutely no massive things like you did today, for at least several decades. Impressive, but also unneeded and ultimately foolish. There were a hundred other ways for you to handle the situation, more than that probably. There always are. Magic is just one tool Tor. You have a good brain and aren't any more responsible for the world than the next man your age. No less either, but don't take on too much for yourself. It can lead to bad things and an early grave.”
Tor wanted to go all “young buck” on the man and shout at him about how he didn't know what Tor felt or thought, or understand what it meant to be young anymore, but just couldn't come up with the will for it. After all “don't use yourself to death” sounded pretty reasonable to him really. The only problem was that Tor really did feel like he was responsible. For almost everyone and everything. That he had to help, no matter what. Didn't everyone?
Burks guided him back to his bedroom and shut the door on Petra, who'd been trying to follow them in, being part of the original conversation and all. It was a little rude, but what could he do about it? The man was old.
Sizing up the room, the vast window, the bed that would comfortably fit a dozen people and the writing desk in mahogany in the corner with matching chair Burks sighed. Grabbing the seat and settling in he waited. No gesture saying Tor should sit or indication he should do anything. Tor got on the bed and sat with his legs crossed. It was the position he took when he worked and one of the most comfortable for him, even if it generally wasn't considered polite in company.
Finally the man spoke, his voice bland and almost flat.
“I should have come and spoken with you openly about what's going on. It wasn't an attempt to hide information from you, just collect the needed data and analyze your genetic structure first, to see what would be needed. My people grabbed a sample after you were poisoned, I think your mother mentioned that to you? What we found was… given everything, about what I expected. One small surprise, but for the most part you're genetically me.” Burks gave him a wry grin.
“I know, how freaky is that?”
Tor raised his eyebrows at him and gave him a wry look back. If he was supposed to get the joke, then he'd missed something. Rather than ask a bunch of questions Tor nodded and just let words flow out, not knowing where they came from. That deep part of him that had been doing most of his work lately? Could be. All he knew was that he sounded far smarter than he felt at the moment.
“That makes sense. The field pattern that created the ancients has to be strong, doesn't it? It doesn't breed too often, almost never, but when it does it probably dominates, as far as traits go. It would have to in order to work at all, wouldn't it?” It did kind of make sense once he said it.
Burks smiled, a small thing that looked pleased rather than skeptical.
“Right! Genes, genetics, all that, it's a complete science, a field of study, but that is, essentially, what happens. A beings field pattern is what makes DNA, which if you ever get bored you should take a few years to learn about. I know you feel busy and rushed right now, but in fifty, maybe a hundred years you're going to start searching for things to keep you busy. Here's a hint right off the top that I had to spend centuries learning. Do stuff. Focus on the details and investigate to the very bottom of things. Then find the next thing to do. Strive to go beyond “good enough”, or you'll get so bored you'll probably kill yourself. I've seen it happen with some of the others, even though genetically it's almost impossible for one of us to suicide. Not out of grief or despair at least. Not the ones that have lasted this long. But it's happened anyway.”
Do things? It… made sense. Isn't that what he tried to do already? Keep busy, help people…
Burks shook his head, even though Tor hadn't said anything.
“Tor… as I said, in most ways we're essentially the same person. I know what you're probably thinking, and you're wrong. It's… part of you… of me, on the most fundamental level to try and help people, an essential part of our being if you will, designed to get us to serve and protect others. To feel unease when people waste things, and to forgive even the most egregious of wounds and attacks. That’s fine for the most part. You want to watch out for those situations where, even though it makes you feel horrible, you can't forgive people that will come after you over and over again, or those so truly insane they can't help themselves. That last is the biggest problem you know. People that don't know they're insane… It's not their fault, so how can you punish them by taking their life? But it will happen that you have to, even though it aches inside. You can't kill without a cost. Others can, but not you.”
Ah. It made sense then. So the magic of the Ancients was what punished him for killing?
“Like that smell of death? After I killed those Austran fast craft drivers… I keep smelling rot and decay all the time. I don't even get used to it!” Tor shuddered. It was gross, and in his nose even as he spoke of it.
Burks nodded and told him that it was just like that. He'd also have horrible nightmares, sometimes see visions of the dead coming back and more.
“Don't let it get to you that much though. Sometimes you have to be willing to pay the cost in order to protect others. However I think I can help you with your current problem more than a bit. Those craft weren't piloted by people at all. Driven as you said. No one living was on board, so you didn't kill anyone. They're devices… very complicated ones called “computers”, we don't use them here, it’s part of the original charter… Well, I'll go over all that with you when the war is over. The thing is huge after all. Basically, for now, it comes down to you needing to stick to magic and not wasting resources… Like this palace of yours! It makes my skin crawl just to be in it. Do you know how many families you could have fed with the gold you used to build it?”
Tor laughed.
“About none?” He patted the bed forcefully. “All magic. Not even made on copper, just focus stone. That's really just compacted dirt, it makes a kind of rock. Fairly pretty, I'll show you some later. Even the energy cost is all in potential. It isn't really here at all, it just seems like it. It works though, so why not?”
That led to a discussion about what else he'd been making, Burks eyes getting wider the whole time finally he shook his head and buried his face in his hands.
“Well, that explains part of the problem then. Most likely.” He heaved a sigh that felt familiar to Tor. He did that too didn't he? Did he really look like his grandfather? Probably not, since the Count was really good looking and he barely made average at best. This didn't get said because the elder was talking. When old people talked you listened, it was a rule.
Probably one made up by the man in front of him, a long time ago, but it still counted, didn't it?
“Denno Brown never did get the concepts of magic at all. Good guy really, since he's basically us, he'd have to be, doesn't look much like you or I though. More like your friend Petra or her brothers. In looks closer to the old Indus cultures. Good looking people, don't you think? Anyway, inside he's like we are in some ways, the aging thing particularly. But his focus on science kind of narrows his world view a lot. Denno was created that way, a generation after mine. That’s… I mean to say my, our template, was used to create his, about six years after I was born. He can't get that you're doing things like this without use of massive energy I bet. Probably thinks you're the great Unknown Factor come to destroy everything. I'd probably best send a letter explaining. You should too, if you don't want Larval assassins showing up every twenty years for the rest of your life. He's your brother after all, so don't feel too nervous about getting in touch with him.”
The things Burks said were fascinating, riveting. Little bits and pieces of things about himself kept coming out at he spoke. Tor asked questions and made what he hoped were solid and insightful remarks. Most of them making his grandfather laugh after a while.
“Right. You're always at the bottom of every social endeavor. Everyone's life, honor and wealth is as important as yours or more so. You go to a state dinner and get sat at the Queen’s hand and wonder why you aren't in servants green, and wouldn't blink to do it if they asked you to fill in? People call you Master Tor and you demure, because you know you haven't mastered anything yet? Women and men compliment your looks, and you just think they’re being kind or even lying to make you feel better about yourself?” This time there were smiles, but no outward chuckles. He held out his right hand and nodded.
“OK. You won't believe this, but it's the simple truth and you need to know it in order to understand why other people respond to you like they do. Your genetic structure, your field, it's built so that you'll do all that, think
