was expected.
“That's right. The arrangements were made today. One of the twenty slots left open for the Capital. The competition is fierce this year. We also have several promising building talents thanks to the new testing Tor devised and arranged. Special scholarships from the County Lairdgren Special Fund. That's what I like to call Tor's account with the kingdoms treasury.” The man smoothly held up his right hand and looked at the Countess Ross with a charming smile.
“He volunteered the funds for that. His idea in fact. However Ali is going as Tor's ward. I believe he's has already petitioned the King and Queen to adopt her formally himself, which will make her a Counserina, what is it, twelfth?” The Count lied smoothly, as if it were a preplanned speech.
Either incredible skill on his part, or it really was planned.
Well, Tor wasn't planning to have sex with her, so why not? Besides it made Karina glow suddenly, the happiest look he'd seen on her face in weeks and Ali, Alissa he decided, if she was to be a noble, nearly clapped her hands, stopping just before she made a scene. He couldn't bring himself to disappoint her then, could he? He nodded to her.
“Thirteenth. More specifically I plan the formal presentation on Thursday. Count Lairdgren offered as well by the way, but I won out in the end, since this will put her in line for Lairdgren. We all have great expectations for Alissa.” He didn't say any more, because there was a stirring at the far end of the hall. Nothing bad he saw, just some musicians coming in. They were strolling all over the city, paid for the task of making the whole place sound bright and cheery after all. These were the first to brave the “scary wizards house”, so that worked to their credit in Tor's mind.
Like he was scary? Ridiculous.
They played well, the tunes tripping from their fingers with clear long practice and skill greater than the vast majority the city had seen in the last few days. Really they were so good it was surprising they weren't playing in the palace.
Then Tor got it.
These weren't professional players at all. They were party crashers. He recognized two of them as they moved closer to his end of the table, Dorgal Sorvee, and his fellow bully, Marco. The others were all of the same look. Smug.
Great. Just what he needed.
More problems.
Chapter eight
That these guys had actual talent kind of amazed him.
Dorgal had never seemed like more than an irritant, full of bluster, insults and vague intimidations, usually, but not always with Marko standing by to add bulk to the matter. Neither was huge, merchant class, not true royals, Tor reminded himself, his stomach lurching a little.
They could mock him, but if they tried to hurt him now, he could fight back, or even call them names without worrying about being kicked out of school. It was his house after all. Besides, he outranked them both now. It didn't leave him feeling any better, but it was true, and he had friends here that would back him up if need be.
Both played violins, a light dancing tune that brought to mind the sparkle of sunlight on green leaves after a rain. It really wasn't fair, he decided, for these men he really didn't care for to be that good at something. He noticed one of the music instructors standing behind them, fingering a guitar delicately, adding the whisper of falling rain to the whole thing.
That… was strange, because Tor knew him to be a Royal Guard. If he'd wanted to come in, he and his people could have just asked and sat with them rather than make pretense. The man was good though. Possibly the best Tor had ever heard, not that music was a strength of his. The other player was a woman, tall, plain, and at least as gifted as any of the others, also on guitar. The counterpoint she played to the rain sounds had to take timing on an epic scale. The men wore black clothing, light and airy, silk it looked like, but she wore a deep blue gown. It had slits to let the breeze in, but this house was cool inside, not cold, but the heat outdoors was oppressive, so the contrast had to leave her a little chill.
She looked to be in her late twenties, but it wasn't a hard lived look. More like the young and springing type of woman, whose life wasn't so hard as to wear them down before their time. Without waiting, or asking, they moved to one side and kept playing, and for some reason everyone else ignored them, except to occasionally tap along on the table or move their head in time to the music.
They played without a real break for the whole meal, stopping only after the dessert dishes were pulled away by the servants, dressed in green like they did at the palace. From there people kind of broke up a bit, most of them leaving the room without hesitation, wanting to get to the festivities. The first small fireworks display would be that night. It was the same device for all of them, but it had six settings on it. Bonita had taken personal charge of the three pound piece of tan glassy rock with its glowing sigils. All the same in look — simple line birds — like what children drew in school, with three lines above each. The size got larger from top to bottom, making the idea clear enough. Tonight’s would look like normal fireworks, he thought. The only difference was they wouldn't set anything on fire. In a dust dry place like the Capital that was an important factor. They normally wouldn't risk such a display this time of year at all, even for the King.
Seeing that they were free to speak to now, Dorgal and his friends approached with large smiles and instruments in hand. Tor fought the urge to turn on his shield, knowing he was already safe and so was everyone else in the group. Except Ali. She didn't have a shield at all. Not even a temperature equalizer. That would have to be fixed fast.
Standing Tor moved towards the group, a smile on his face, and slid his body between them and the girl with enough subtlety that he really doubted anyone noticed, except Burks, and maybe Rolph, who knew the score better than most here did. He decided for trying to start out with kindness. After all, he'd done business with Dorgal in the last year, and as far as he could tell the man had actually dealt with him fairly and without bugging him about anything. Maybe that would count for something, if only a little.
To Dorgal, being merchant born, it apparently meant a lot, if the look on his face counted for anything. Tor started speaking, his voice gentle, saying the obvious first, giving credit where it was due.
“You all played beautifully. Masterfully even. Thank you for coming.” There, he decided, if Dorgal wasn't at least polite now…
“It was the least we could do Tor! Our fortunes are all made because of you. I… honestly it surprised me when you gave us the earth moving equipment contract so openly, like a true friend, after how I treated you all that time. Then making sure Meredith here was taken care of, even though you weren't available to marry her yourself… I'm not ashamed to say I cried when that shipment of goods came from you for us. We'd been looking at some way to show our thanks and friendship for some time, when Backus here found us a few days ago and suggested we do this, well, we've practiced nearly non-stop. Do you really think we did all right?”
Everyone agreed with Tor’s take, even Burks.
“Very well indeed. If you don't mind, we'll drag you to the palace tomorrow for the King’s party, outdoor work, but the air's dry, so it won't damage your instruments. It's not the same as getting an invitation to the party yourselves, but if you distinguish yourselves you can build contacts there. Worth doing.”
Still wondering where the trap was, Tor made introductions all the way around. The only joy in it really was that when Rolph, the affable boy everyone always liked from school was revealed to be Prince Alphonse Cordes himself, he thought Dorgal was going to pass out. Then it was probably just shock at the change up, because Dorgal had always been kind to his tall friend. It wasn't like he had to eat sour over it now or anything.
The fireworks started then and everyone piled outside to sit and watch the sky above the city light up. It was pretty enough Tor decided, but hoped the following nights would be more impressive. Dorgal came to him then and for some reason patted him on the back.
“Not bad for a little baker boy from the back woods.”
That was what he always called him, to taunt him, “the little baker boy”. This time it sounded different. If not kind, at least not a jibe. A hand rested on his back for a long while.
