“Really? You mean to say that meeting your own grandmother, one you never met, in a far off land stretches your credulity? You make magic rivers for a living, and fly through the air with the power of a thought, and think that this is the hard to believe part? What am I supposed to do with you? Well, nothing for it now, you can't help it if you're a man, can you? Come have a seat and we'll invite your friends in, some at least. This place isn't big enough for all those unbalanced behemoths.” Brushing her hair to one side daintily she let her expression turn to something less aggressive.
“Tell me, what's the point of having over-sized humans like that anyway? They eat more, take up greater resources and only contribute war and aggression to the world. I always thought the Cordes program was a mistake, but then Noram always did go with the idea of bigger being better. Small people would have done more for them in the end I think. Well, too late now. They'll breed themselves down to a decent size in a few thousand years. That or kill each other off, which will work too.”
Tor sat, there was a pillow on the floor, a pink thing that reminded him a little of spun sugar. It seemed more cloud than seat but that didn't stop it from easily supporting his weight. After a moment Mutta led in part of the group, smiling and speaking softly as if they might be scared by all this. Well, it was a trap, but only one for him. Tor shrugged and turned his clothing to black combat leathers. If it was a fight, he'd try his best. It acted as a warning to the others, who all shifted their clothing to match his. Suddenly the woman in front of him clapped her hands. Tor expected an attack, but tea came instead, carried by a ebony skinned boy of about sixteen. He didn't make eye contact at all looking down the whole time and smiled, but it was like he was shy, that horrible kind of thing that made it hard to actually talk to people at all. Tor could relate but looking away right now would be a poor plan. Ambassadors couldn't afford to be shy and retiring, could they?
“Everyone, Grandma. Grandma, everyone.” Tor said his voice gaining a bit of a lilt suddenly, he couldn't say why, but he kept going.
“At least in part, we've been lured here, I think. I imagine they really do want the rivers too, otherwise they're going to be rather upset when we start senselessly flooding the middle of their continent.” He stopped talking long enough to get a single, but very definite nod from Gray.
“So the question now is, why bring us here. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd have come just to chat, but this seems a little more… doesn't it? If I'm imagining things, please do let me know. I can go and get an early nights rest instead of dealing with this then. First though, Gray is it? Do you have another name I can call you?”
The pause was long, drawn out and peppery, if that was possible. He literally smelled pepper in the air suddenly, after a moment the shields all turned on and started flaring purple. Flickers of light in the air, making thick clouds after less than a moment, each of his people glowing suddenly, brightly enough to cast shadows on the wall. It had started with his shield, but the others followed as if catching on to the threat as he did. That made sense. It was all deep mind stuff, so when his friends saw him reacting to a threat, they did too. If without having thought about it at all.
“Nanos?” He gave the very young looking Ancient girl in front of him a hard stare.
“Genetically modified viruses, not an attack at all. They simply cause a person to feel peaceful. A temporary effect that would last no more than three days. It isn't meant as an assault. It's just that your people are very aggressive and warlike. Plus, you in particular are probably feeling more than a little tense. Call it a bit of insurance, one that obviously isn't going to work. So, my name?” She looked like she struggled to remember something finally she spoke, her voice still far away.
“Lara Gray. Now just called Gray. I had you brought here because I need you to do something for me. It's nothing all that big, I need you to carry a letter for me. To Austra. It must arrive in four months time and be handed directly to Glost Serge the Prime Minister there. It must go with you, or Burks Green, and honestly I think your personal odds of survival are higher, but I can't promise anything there. Don't tell Burks I said that though or he'll insist that he's the only one that can do the job. Will you do that for me?” With barely a movement a letter on fine, thick paper, folded in three pieces and tied with leather, appeared in her right hand. She passed it to her left, a slow and careful movement, and stretched a little to hand it to him.
After a long pause Tor took it. Nothing happen, but he knew that it was a trick of some kind. If not one meant for him than for someone else. Probably. Glost Serge… he'd heard the name before. A schoolboy that had tried to kill his mother?
Tor spoke without setting the question up.
“Is that a family thing do you think? Everyone always trying to kill us for stupid reasons?” Rolph sat next to Sara and his sister, Trice next to Kolb and Wensa. Ursala bumped shoulders with Bonita, which was chummier than he'd thought they'd gotten, but then he'd been distracted. Lara tilted her head a little before speaking.
“I sometimes wonder. People have tried to kill me hundreds of times, and I can only think of about four that had valid reasons in the whole bunch. The most common being fear from a person that can't admit they're afraid. Anyway, that's what I want done and why I asked you here. So if that's out of the way, tell me about my daughter. If the letter isn't out of the way, please deal with that now.”
It was his mother’s voice and bossy tone, but magnified over time into something bitchy and off-putting, lacking the basic politeness Tor expected to find there, even as her voice lilted and sounded basically sensible. Not really friendly or playful, but businesslike while, clearly looking down at him for some reason. Burks didn't do that, so it wasn't just an effect of being old, Tor didn't think. No, this was just her.
Right. Well, going to the heart of an enemy power during a war, that seemed reasonable, didn't it? He nodded slowly to show thought, wondering if he'd really do it. It didn't seem likely, but a lot could change in four months.
Nodding again he smiled gently.
“I won't promise it, but if I think it can be done without getting me killed or hurting anyone, I'll try. If that's not good enough, then… I'm sorry?” It was, he hoped, a diplomatic and honest answer.
At least the Ancient woman nodded back.
“That's fine. I'm not trying to send you on a suicide mission. It's just a note that may help my daughter in time. Or not. It's all I have to give in the way of aid to her right now. We don't fight here you know.”
Tor suspected that kind of aggression had been genetically removed from the people. They didn't fight… and they couldn't. What protected them from invaders he wondered? Or Tellerand missionaries. They were legendary for going where they weren't wanted and demanding that other people change their traditions and beliefs to match their own. He didn't have a chance to say anything about it, or ask, because Lara Gray started to ask questions about Laurali one right after the other. Obviously the conversation had changed, even if he wasn't ready to leave the current topic yet.
“Yeah, well if you want to know what she looks like, imagine you about ten years older looking. Or change and go look in a mirror, that should do it. Her hairs short right now though. Personality wise? She’s a bit… darker than you really, seems a little more sane most of the time, but she has her moments, oddball things… She doesn't seem to hate men as much as you do, but she does tend to act like were all a little dumber than we actually are. Is that part of your pattern? Genetics I mean? Eleven kids, which is too many, but seems to be to her personal plan, not an accident. I don't know what to say other than that.” It was his mother. What could he say?
You didn't insult your mother openly, especially to your grandmother.
A lot more could be said, it seemed, because if he wasn't asked three hundred questions in the next three hours… His butt fell asleep on the cushion and his legs started to tingle. It should have been fascinating, but this older version of his mother, with her vast experience was… strange and rude. Off-putting. Not just to him either. That could easily have been expected just based on the resemblance to his own mother. There was a constant feeling that she was just barely able to put up with Tor as a person and the other men clearly angered her even more with their presence. It wasn't anything she said, exactly. Mainly in the tense way she ignored them and seemed irritated by everything they said or did. Even when they had additional information she wanted and asked for.
Rolph jovially recalled speaking to Laurali and Douglass not two weeks before, how pleased Lara's daughter was with Tor and what he'd managed to accomplish, and her other children. How Timon was going to start school the next year at the new Printer Academy, even though he would be only twelve then, and Tiera was to go to Lairdgren the year after.
The Ancient looked like she wanted to backhand the Prince where he sat. It was obvious enough that he gave her a strained smile and stopped speaking after only a minute or so, his words tapering awkwardly. A bit later talking about the river placement, Kolb produced a map and pointed to what he meant in his description of where
