The Builder (The Young Ancients) (43 page)

Thankfully for him, Rolph was a royal, which meant giant. That meant Tor didn't have to try and carry the chest himself or even take one of the handles, his friend doing all the heavy lifting. Otherwise it would have taken half the night, with him limping out of the carriage like he was, dragging the chest behind him on the ground. The box wasn't that big, two foot long, half that wide and about that tall. It weighed in at about a hundred pounds, a lot for Tor right now, not so much for his friend.

At the door a man he didn't know escorted them in to the “sitting room” which seemed a place to keep guests out of the way until dinner. It had a green and cream flower patterned padded bench to sit on, which was pretty soft, but lost his attention when he heard a noise to his right and turned halfway around to see who, or what, it was.

A purple flash came towards him, moving fast and hard, which made him jump slightly in fear. The face on top of the blur looked like Trice, but strange, like she'd been crying. Bizarre for her really, she wasn't one of those weepy girls as far as he knew. Sara was a bit, but not the curly haired girl. Not that he'd noticed.

Her parents had probably been teasing her about him. Sigh. Normally fine, except that she might take his head off now for it. He felt himself lifted off his feet and flung back on a padded bench with a back, which slid a little when he hit it, Trice ending up on top of him. He got ready for the beating, figuring that he kind of deserved it, after dragging her into his problems without permission, so he was shocked when she started kissing him instead.

He heard Rolph chuckling behind her.

The kisses weren't hard quick things like he expected them to be, but soft, warm movements that caused her to almost meld with him somehow. His lips still tingled when she rose up off of him laughing and crying at the same time.

“They just told me! I love you... You are so wonderful! Thank you. I... this... Thank you! You can't know how much better this is...”

She kissed him again and kept at it until her father cleared his throat in the background. “Ahem. Hey, I said Ahem!” The man smiled at them when Trice finally broke off her assault on Tor's face.

“Dinner's about to begin, if you'll all join us?”

Chapter eleven

Rolph took the chest in with him to the dining room, where it caught attention from Trice's mother, who stood waiting for them to enter with a polite smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye. She gestured, a closed hand and very regal thing, towards a side table that sat empty, apparently just for receiving gifts. The idea made sense to Tor, now that he saw how these people really lived. To not bring a gift would seem out of place, at least half the time. People wanted to impress royalty and a Duke and Baroness, while not at the lofty heights of a King or Queen, certainly got their share of attention.

The look she gave the chest was curious, but it seemed clear that she wouldn't ask what was in it. Tor was still reeling from the way Trice had greeted him. No one had ever kissed him like that before. Once, about four years before, when he was thirteen, a neighbor girl had kissed him on the lips as a dare from his older brother. That had been hard and quick, reluctant to say the least on the girl's part, and left him feeling ashamed for having let her do it at all. This had been a lot different. Better. He could see now why people bothered at least, even if he didn't think he could manage the same thing Trice had done without drooling all over someone yet. Maybe he could get a book on the subject or something? He wondered if such things even existed.

Why she'd done it... That was still a mystery. Then again, she'd asked him to say those things the other day, about them getting married, so maybe this was part of an act to make the whole thing look good for her parents? That still didn't tell him why. Oh well. As long as she wasn't kicking his behind over it, he'd be happy. She could always call it off later if she wanted, right?

Tor wouldn't.

Maybe she'd just forget it was part of some plan she had if he pretended it was real long enough? Suppressing a sigh he knew that wouldn't work and decided to just play along. At least this way he didn’t have to marry a Sorvee yet. Absurdly Tor couldn't help but picture Dorgal in a dress with long greasy hair, being unveiled at the wedding. God, he really hoped that whoever she was, poor Meredith Sorvee didn't have that to deal with. Bad enough to just be related to Dorgal.

Not wanting to have the Baroness think the package was anything special, he let her in on what it contained.

“Um, that, it's just the cargo carriers I promised, enough for fifty wagons or large boxes about that size, actually I tried for a field that can lift about five times what a wagon can hold, but I don't know if anything that large even exists for goods or shipping. Fifty food dryers too. Oh, I also added in fifty flying rigs. I don't have people for any of this yet though, but it's a start at least. Oh!” He could have hit himself in the head with a brick and probably should... He hadn't added shields to the box of flying rigs. He covered his eyes with his hands and apologized.

“I'll have them in a day or two... I amped up the flying gear and then forgot to give you any shields in case of accident? Duh! I'll fix that right away. Can I send those over or... Bring them? When they're done?”

Something warm slid in beside him for a second, until the temperature equalized, leaving a feeling of soft bare skin on his wrist where his sleeve pushed up a little. Trice chuckled and cuddled his arm to her side. Eric, Duke Morgan, stood with his mouth hanging open a little, being well trained he recovered after a second and stared at the chest as it sat on the dark wooden table.

“So, you're loaning us flying rigs to go with the other things? And are going to lend shields too? That's... Exceedingly generous!” The man smiled and walked over to Tor, a large hand reaching down to lightly clap him on the back.

Tor smiled but shook his head. “Oh no, those are all yours. You can use them as you see fit after the harvest is in. I... I think that large scale transport of goods is a decent business to get into, at least until other people get up to speed with everything. This should give you about the largest transport, em, fleet? In the Noram kingdom for a while, at for least air transport. I can get you more of whatever you need, except, well, not people. They have to be trained and all too. But I mean, if that's a bad idea, you can do what you want with these things. Loan them out or keep them for next year, whatever.”

The Duke's smile went funny looking and the Baroness looked odd too. The man finally nodded, if a little stiffly. Tor hoped he hadn't pissed the guy off. After all, he needed them to help keep him out of the clutches of Sorvee house. Sure he could just tell Meredith no, but then, he really couldn't, could he? Hurting her feelings would be worse than poor form, now that he understood a tiny bit about the concept. He'd marry her first, bad relatives or not. For now the Morgans and their support was about all he had to keep from some major misstep here.

Tor wasn't trying to tell them what to do though, just suggesting a course of action that might work. The tension level had gone up about fifty times. Why couldn't he just learn to keep his mouth shut?

On his arm Trice had stiffened too, but instead of strangling his arm or hitting him, he suddenly felt her lips on his cheek. Then she straightened and nodded to her parents, a slightly smug look on her face. She didn't say anything at all. After about fifteen seconds everyone started to laugh, except for Tor, were they laughing at him now? Well, that probably made sense. He'd come in and given them some stuff he'd made and told them how to run their lives like a barn cat giving them a dead bird and suggesting the best ways to eat it. Of course it was funny. That or insulting. Way better that they laugh at him, or maybe with him? Could they think he was joking with them too? He didn't see how.

Oh well.

Graciously, or possibly mercifully, everyone stopped laughing after a while and sat at the table, the fashion was “family style” so they all sat close to one another. They accidentally started to try and serve him wine, but Trice politely refused for him, placing her left hand firmly over the mouth of his glass.

“It's a builder thing; they normally won't drink alcohol, so that they can always be ready and able to work themselves to death. Something like that.” She grinned. “Though that last part may only be Tor. Do we have any fruit juice?”

With a nod and wide eyes Mercy asked one of the servants to see if that was possible. It came so quickly that the servers must have been listening from the other room. That was... either a sign of superior skill or a spying hazard, possibly both. Not that spying on any conversation with him in it would make some huge difference to the world for the most part. So far at least. He was young, Tor knew, and things could change, even if he couldn't tell how yet.

The juice was a very nice, cool apple. Tor wondered out loud if it was from their own orchards up north. The Baroness nodded to his glass and told him that indeed, it was. It was good. Very good. He let them know that. Which made the Duke happy at least.

“The secret's in the blend of apple breeds. We use six different types for our drinking juice, which gives it that smooth flavor. It's different for hard ciders, where it pays to use a blend of about three apples, and you want a higher sugar content for the fermentation process, but for drinking juice it works well. It also mixes well with peach and pear. We don't have as many pears because they don't keep or travel well, but they're superior to either of the others when dried. We'll try to make sure we get you some.” Eric spoke smoothly, the sound of a person speaking about a passion they knew so well they didn't have to stop to remember the details.

The meal had fewer courses than any of the dinner parties at the palace, but then, it wasn't at the King's house, or even these people's main dwelling. It was still far more complicated and formal than anything he'd ever seen a month before. No one spoke of business again until after the last dish left the table, it was the Baroness that leaned forward and spoke first.

“We... give our blessing. Even if you can't manage a title Torrence. If anyone in the world doubts your worth, then we don't need them as friends. By the way, just so you all know, this was all decided two days ago.” She looked over at the box on the table and then at her daughter with a wry grin. “I don't want you to think we're selling you to the highest bidder or something like that, dear.”

The Duke leaned in then and winked at her.

“Still, way more than either of us expected you to bring in, being a girl. I've never heard of anyone being given an entire industry as groom's gift before.... Normally it's just a horse.” His eyes lit up and so did his smile. “I think I can get people without a problem. Probably more than we'll ever need. People will line up just for the chance to fly. They'll have to be sworn men and women, of course, but we can spare them for this I think.”

Rolph stood and held up a single piece of paper with a gold leaf seal on the bottom left. “Well, we hardly need this then, do we? Still, dad went to all the trouble to have it drawn up and signed it himself and everything, so I guess I should at least present it. It even has the signature of the requisite three Counts on it and get this, all of them volunteered to do it. We didn't even have to bribe any of them. So how rare is that? You'd think Tor was popular or something...” He looked around the paper comically at an angle and read off the names. “Count Thomson, of course. But then he'd agree to sign anything that might help make either of these two happy. Then, what's this say? Count Ford... Hmm. No mystery there, if he'd known that Tor was looking to get married he probably would have recommended one of his own granddaughters I think... Or possibly offered to marry Tor himself. Tor's cache is a lot higher in county Ford than you might think. This is the kicker. Count Lairdgren. That's a shock isn't it? Strange duck, but when mom sent a message to him he flew straight down. Literally flew, you wouldn't think of him as having a flying rig yet would you? But he's Tor's Count, he said, so he came to make this official. Dad practically knelt to him when he showed up. I mean he was ninety percent of the way down when the little guy caught him and held him up. You'd like him Tor, he probably only has about six inches on you, if that. I think you're getting a little taller still...”

He pointed to the paper again, smiling so hard that tears came to his eyes.