The Builder (The Young Ancients) (3 page)

“Wood and paint? So, is this something you made yourself?”

“Yeah, it's for my novel build class, this is the first test, but so far it looks like its working. I need to test it again, but...” He pointed to the dry clothes on the rack with a shrug. “That will probably have to wait a few days. Everything I own is clean.”

The young Count chuckled again and looked around, finally pointing at the younger boy Tor had been helping earlier. “He has some wet clothing; perhaps he'd be willing to let you use that for your test, now that success seems likely at least?”

That, Tor had to admit, did seem like a good idea. Not something he'd have thought of himself, mainly because he didn't like to ask other people for favors, but hey, if a Count suggested it, who was he to say no? Clearing his throat he asked the boy if it would be alright. It was clear that the kid had been watching all along anyway, so it didn't take a lot of explanation.

“Sure!” He said, bringing the heaping basket of wet, not just damp, but sodden clothing over to hang up on the line. It would normally be a bad idea to skip wringing them out first, at least by hand, but it was perfect for this. After a second Tor started to help out, knowing that it would speed things up. Help almost always did. The Count shocked them both by helping to hang things over the white rope line himself a moment later. It wasn't every day that a Count helped you do your laundry after all. What would be next? The King coming over for an afternoon snack? The giant looked at the low table and moved it closer to the line, but then looked at Tor, checking to see if he'd gotten it close enough.

“That should do... Actually, let's move the table back a bit. I don't want to risk splashing water on the paint yet. It hasn't had a lot of time to set.” The Count picked up the table and moved it about four feet back. The younger boy looked a little anxious, but waited out of the way. Pointing at the younger student Tor nodded his head.

“Give the plate a single tap please...” It was actually an important factor. It was just possible, doing this, that he'd built something that would only work for him. He doubted that was the case, he'd been careful, but everything had to be tested. The boy didn't hesitate, activating the field with a single deft thump of one finger, as if he'd been doing such things all his life.

Being from a wealthy family, maybe he had? Tor had only seen a handful of field devices before coming to school, all of them tools around the village. The majority of devices were tools. Only the wealthiest had anything else in the main. Trying to copy those was what got him noticed for the scholarship in the first place. At least he thought it was that. He'd never really been sure how it had happened. A scholarship recruiter just passing through an out of the way tiny village and finding the baker's kid making a cutter? Not very likely. Maybe it was fate or someone in the village having told someone else, and the word spreading to the right ears?

The whole process repeated itself, only with applause this time, as people had come to look at what the Count, who stood out quite a bit, being so brightly clad and huge, had been doing. Even Dorgal grudgingly applauded.

The dark haired bully couldn't resist getting a barb in though. Of course. Making fun of Tor in front of a large group of people would probably make it even better for someone like him. As he started to speak, Tor made himself relax and just listen calmly, as if he cared what the idiot had to say. He even managed an interested and polite expression. Fake, but if the bastard wanted real politeness he'd have to start with some of his own for a while.

“So, your future career as a washer woman's all set Tor! Now all we have to do is get you a gray skirt and a bandanna for your pretty hair.” The tone was biting and surly, even if the words themselves could have been construed as just being playful if they came from someone else. It was the kind of thing Dorg excelled at. A kind of genius really, being a jerk without ever really being too overtly offensive. Not where other ears than Tor's could hear at least. He didn't get the laugh expected from the gathering crowd for some reason. In fact, a few of the people walking over to examine the now dried clothes stared at him as if he'd just cussed in public. One, a pretty girl with deep brown, almost black, curly hair in ringlets kind of glared at Dorgal.

“Seriously? And you from a manufacturing family? You can't see how big a field like this could be? Are you stupid or something?” The girl, who looked about seventeen or eighteen turned to Tor and smiled winningly. She was lean, and a little hard, so probably one of the warrior or “special school” students. Assassins or something. No one really knew what they did at the special school, at least no one that would speak to him about it. People talked, but rumors were usually wrong, so Tor didn't bother following them particularly. The girl looked at the clothes and nodded to her friend.

“Sara, what do you think your mother would be willing to pay for this?”

The girl next to her wasn't as cute as the brown haired girl, but made up for it by looking happy and bright eyed. Of course Tor tended to like dark hair on women, so maybe it wasn't fair to say she wasn't as pretty, just in a blond way. A lot of people would probably think she was, he decided. She sounded smart at least. Even at school a lot of the girls affected being dumber than they were to attract boys. That these two didn't seem to bother with that already won points in his book. Not that they'd care overly about that.

Tor knew his opinion probably wouldn't matter to them any more than the guy that ran the store that sold school supplies. Less even, since pencils and ink had established value already. He noticed that both wore blacks, like his own clothes, except not brown, heavily worn and oft washed. Since they'd never been out kicking his behind on the practice field with Kolb that lent more than a bit of credit to the idea that they were special school. Pure scholars didn't have as much wear on their clothing in the knees and elbows, most of it coming in the seat of the pants. His own had both.

Sara looked at the clothing and then him, tilting her head just a little. It was cute, which he instantly decided to hold against her. Attractive women were trouble. If you let yourself become interested at least.

“What are the design parameters? How much can each field do, how often? What's the expected time to failure for each unit?”

The questions were good ones, too good to be casual really. He knew the answers, at least in theory, and tried to present them that way, explaining that these were the very first tests.

“But, if all goes well, any cloth or fibrous material within a twenty foot radius will dry in approximately the time you saw here, about fifteen seconds or so. It’s field driven, energy wise, so the work energy comes from the water and the ambient temperature, the heat in the air, meaning there's no particular recharge time needed. As to how well the field will hold up... That depends on the materials used, of course, metal or stone will hold a field a lot longer than wood, and who put it in place matters too. My personal fields normally last for several years when put in metal, so far at least, but that can vary from person to person. I'm kind of new to doing it, obviously. Some of the best can last decades or even longer. Average is about a year or so...” He gave a lift of the shoulders that wasn't really a shrug.

Sara, strawberry blond with slightly tan skin, considered what he said closely then looked at the humble wooden plate.

“In wood we could get five golds for it, assuming it would last a year. In metal twice that. In stone... Well, that's harder to work with, but would probably bring in twenty to thirty golds apiece. It would have to be vetted first, being new and you still being a student. Worth doing. My guess is that we could sell these on the open market faster than they could be made at those prices. Even selling the template you should be able to bring in a half gold for each one that goes out on the market. That would probably be your best bet, especially if you have any other ideas like this to work on. It would leave you free to do things other than make copies.”

The girl blushed and suddenly stepped back, making the dark haired girl laugh.

“Don't worry Sara, Tor won't bite. I have that on good authority. Speaking of which...”

Tor looked over his shoulder in the direction that the dark haired girl stared and saw Rolph, red haired and nearly as big as Count Thomson walking over with a purpose, probably expecting to have to save Tor from a beating. Nice of him really, since Tor could do without those whenever possible. As he got closer Tor looked up at him with a smile and pointed at the clothes just now being taken off the line by the brown haired boy.

“Worked.” He said, smiling. “Twice.” He held up two fingers just to make the point clear.

Rolph slapped him on the back and then looked at the others standing around with a bit of hesitation. After a few seconds he spoke, softly.

“Tovey,” he said, looking at the Count. “Everything alright here?”

There was no menace in the tone at all, but it didn't sound scared either. If Tor had remembered who'd been standing there himself he'd have been scared. The work, as it often did, had proved too distracting for that. He'd simply forgotten to be afraid, which was probably a sign that he was secretly a moron. Who forgets to be afraid?

Soon to be dead people, that's who.

The Count smiled and put his hand out to shake with Rolph, a movement that came naturally it seemed, even though a Count wouldn't do that as a rule. They went in for bowing and such. “Not at all. I just saw the first experiment and had to come see what was going on. It really is fascinating to see the water just... leave like that. We need to secure some of these for our mothers before everyone else has them first I think.”

The girl with the dark hair moved in front of Rolph and backed towards Tor protectively hands out to the side as if to prevent his friend from grabbing him to carry off... or something.

“Saw him first, so he's mine. Now, you two go away. Shew, shew!”

“Hey! I saw him way before you did. Called firsts and everything.” Petra, who'd been standing near the back of the crowd called out, laughing. She smiled and waved a little at Tor again, so, ducking his head, he waved back. It was literally true; she'd seen him since his first year, normally while chasing him around trying to beat him with a stick.

They all laughed, which baffled the hell out of Tor.

Even Sara and the boy trying to reclaim his clothes chuckled. He knew that telling a royal like the Count to “Shew” wouldn't go over very well in general. Maybe the girl knew the huge man or something? It seemed likely, since they'd begun negotiations as to who got fields for their mothers first.

Tor held up his right hand, and tried to smile, hoping no one would kill him for it.

“Um, I have to get it through testing and then have the instructors go over it to make sure it's safe...” He said, his voice soft and humble. It sounded weak enough that Dorgal laughed at him, which earned another glare from the dark haired girl as a reprimand.

Rolph shook his head and winked at the girl.

“Don't start any trouble with Tor, Dorg. He's probably going to be more important than any of us one day...”

Tor wanted to hide under a rock. Saying that in front of a Count! Worse, a Count that could personally kill him by “accidentally” falling down at the wrong time. Was Rolph trying to get the room to himself? They'd definitely have to talk about this, later. When no one would be around to laugh at him.

Besides, some of the royals had strange powers, direct magics, and about a third of them could go into battle rages at any moment, striking out at anyone near with lethal intent and far greater than normal effect. Super human strength and speed, as well as some other stuff.

Tor had never seen anything like that himself, but Kolb had warned him about it early on in training, just in case trouble started at school. Even most of the royals ran away if they saw it starting to happen in someone else, supposedly. He didn't know if the Count was one of those types, but if he was, saying anything that could challenge him, or set him off by mistake, seemed like a horrible idea. Might as well poke a golden bear, Tor thought. They were about the same size as the Count. Well, twelve feet tall and about a ton for the bear, but close enough in regards to how long it would take for them to kill someone as small as him.

Instead of killing anyone, the Count nodded, and so did the girls and the boy who awkwardly folded his clothes, nearly wadding up one of his shirts instead of doing it right. It made sense, didn't it? If he couldn't wash his own clothing, folding them probably had never come up either. Tor walked over and showed him how to do it quickly, since no one would be paying attention to him anyway, he didn't think.