The Builder (The Young Ancients) (33 page)

Tor could credit it. After all, as wonderful as his friends were, they were also very high class people, which meant more than a little lazy, and kind of caught up in convoluted plans and plots. It seemed a little overdone just to get out of clean up, especially since they could have just said they didn't want to and he'd get it done anyway. Rolph helped with the work though, so maybe it wasn't all of them? Tor shrugged and smiled at his friend while they worked. At least the heir to the kingdom wasn't trying to trick his way out of work. That was a good sign. From what Tor had seen, the King's job required diligence to say the least.

A quick bath and shave later as well as a solid tooth brushing and Tor was ready for the day. Rolph took a lot longer, but then he had all that hair to take care of, which Tor just didn't. Thanks to the trunks they'd loaded along they had clean clothes to wear too, which was nice, since washing things would have been a chore here. He had one of the clothes drying plates at least though, so that would have sped it all up. He should come up with something to do the washing for them too. Now that he could move water... He stopped himself and went back to work. He'd think about it later, when he had time and wouldn't be abandoning all the chores to the Prince of the realm.

The rest of the day went a lot like that, with Trice chuckling at odd moments, Rolph avoiding his gaze, but not seeming overly worked up, just a little subdued, and Sara rushing away looking teary. To keep them amused Tor showed them how the new field transferred water, which wasn't novel to them, except when turned off. It was basically a giant high flow pump too, which could have a lot of uses once the bugs were worked out. It had to have a way to direct the water for instance, built in to the device, unless he wanted to make a new one for each purpose, which would cut its utility a lot.

For what was supposed to be a fun outing, no one seemed to be very pleased anymore, except Tor, and to a lesser extent Trice. He decided that something had happened that he just didn't get. Maybe Sara and Rolph had an argument? Well, they'd work it out, he was certain. They were friends if nothing else and Sara was smart enough not to ruin her friendships because of hurt feelings.

There were no debts between friends, which meant no emotional debts either, at least ideally. Who was she supposed to marry, he wondered? Some rich merchant guy probably, or maybe a Baron. That... would be just within the three step thing, right? Her social position put her family just on the verge of being royalty themselves and they clearly carried at least some royal blood, all them being as tall as they were.

Well, he wouldn't tell anyone, if it bothered her so much. They were friends and if that meant keeping her liaisons secret, then Tor would. Still, did they think he was hired to spy on them or something? By who? And for that matter, how much was he being paid for? So far no money had been coming in at all. You'd think they'd have noticed that. A horrible idea occurred to him then.

Real stomach dropping horror.

Sara had mentioned Sorvee house and how they were still mad about a failed marriage proposal. Dorgal, the bully from school, his last name was Sorvee, and that couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Was it part of some plan to mend fences? God, they weren't planning on marrying her off to that lout were they? It would be a good match on paper, maybe, they were the same age nearly, knew some of the same people and both came from the same basic background, but... Gah! It was too cruel to even consider.

If that was the case he'd have to visit Heather Debri and make sure she knew what Dorgal was really like first. Yeah, that guy would have a problem if he found out about her sleeping with Rolph, especially since he probably didn't know that Rolph was anyone but the cool kid from school. Plus Dorgal was the type that liked to have problems with things. If you gave him a bag of gold it would probably start a fight. Tor could hear him now in his head, “that gold's not shiny enough, and there isn't enough of it, and why didn't you give it to me sooner?” Something like that at least. Snotty self-entitled jerk.

The trip home was different than the one out mainly because they stopped in a small town, one not much bigger than Two Bends, and had lunch, bread, cheese and fruit, coming at a cost that made Tor wince. It should have been measured in a few coppers, if that, but came to almost a full silver when everything was tallied. The woman of the shop just shrugged.

“It's this drought. Things still look green, but in six months gold won't hardly buy food anymore, because people will hoard what little they have. We can't all afford to buy supplies from Garish, Sorvee and Debri, not with the cost of shipping on it. So we have to get more from you now to survive later.” She was a thin and hard looking woman, nearing fifty and shorter than he was. She took in the plain brown of Tor's clothes easily enough, but wouldn't even look at the others. Actually refusing to even glance at them after the first time, eyes staying down, towards the ground.

Right. They all looked royal to her, even Sara. Her tall blond good looks weren't exactly common stock like his. The woman didn't seem happy, but managed a small tight and strained smile for him after she explained. Tor took his share of the cheese and a pear, going to the shade outside to eat it after saying a few words to her, trying to be hopeful about the whole thing. The pear was a little green and hard this time of year, but edible, even if the skin did ram between his teeth making him feel awkward, not wanting to pick at them in company or anything rude like that.

They sat under a tree, an elm that did look thirsty, and it really was greener than the brown grasses and low shrubs around them. If they couldn't get these people some relief, it would hurt in half a year like the woman had said. A lean summer was annoying, but the winter to follow would be nearly impossible. People would die most likely, even in a warm place like this. Not as many as the same shortage would cause up north, but bad enough.

The town was dusty and small, but the people didn't seem defeated yet. They rested during the day, the heat beating down on them too much for real work to be done. Their little group didn't notice it, how warm it was, but these others all dripped sweat and went to the large wooden water barrel getting dippers full of water more often than was probably normal. Somewhere deep inside their bodies knew that water was short, so they struggled to put more in now, saving it for later. It didn't work like that, he knew, water leaving in a day or so, no matter how much you drank, but the deep mind didn't know that. It just tried to make sure the individual survived, as best it could.

Tor flew back wondering if the water he planned to get would be enough. If the crops were gone for the season already they'd need more food from other parts of the country fast. And cheap. He could make that happen, the transport part at least, but on top of the water project, it wouldn't leave him much of his break.

Oh well.

Lives had to come first. Always. Besides, his friends probably all wanted to be off doing things without him by now anyway. He left the others to talk, and just followed along behind them as they flew back, thinking about what would be needed first. If only he had more time to work.

The river that led to the Capital flowed well, the drought not daring to come this far yet apparently. It was, interestingly enough, just called the King's River. It didn't have some other fancier name or anything, a subtle thing that didn't try to promote Richard, but did anyway. You said its name and you thought of him automatically. A clever bit of propaganda really.

The water had dropped in it since he'd first seen it, less than a week before. Looking at it he realized that if he got the water to the head of the river here, past the Capital, the normal irrigation channels could be used along with shunts to pull out some water further north from the above ground part. Probably about fifty miles or so, more if he could make it work. It would make an elongated circle of water to be used then. He'd have to check, obviously, since he didn't know where people farmed here at all, except the little he'd seen from the air.

“What's that?” Trice yelled back, pointing to a group of people, about fifty or sixty of them gathered a short distance outside the southernmost gate into the city.

The people were a motley group from the air, mainly wearing brown and white, near the center there was a clutch of city guard red and white. At first, given the soft yelling that he heard, Tor wondered if the people were going to attack the guards. They had them surrounded, sort of, a rough semi-circle. But then he noticed that people were running from the town, carrying heavy timbers.

Then he got it. He'd seen something similar once a long time before, when one of the neighbor kids, Bill Sampson, had fallen down a well.

Without waiting he redirected towards the group on the ground and flew in as fast as he could, so fast he couldn't breathe the air sucked away too hard for his lungs to capture. Tor just held his breath. If someone was down a well they either had hours to get them out... or seconds. He couldn't tell which from the air. They probably couldn't really tell on the ground either.

He shoved his right hand out as far as it would go; the copper medallion around his neck growing first warm, then hot, which it had never done before. It burned, but not to an extent that he thought he was being injured, about like too warm bath water. He landed outside the group away from the vast white wall and ran towards the center as fast as his legs could carry him. Rolph overtook him on the ground, his longer legs stretching out.

“Situation report!” He yelled, a tone of command that Tor had never heard from his friend before. It got the guards talking all at once; finally the man in charge of the guard group shouted the others down and explained as fast as he could.

Tor couldn't tell if the man recognized Rolph or not, but apparently a giant man flying up and yelling for a situation report got a response. Something he might need in the future himself, if he ever grew a foot and a half taller. He could already do the flying part, so half of the work on that was done even.

“Child, boy, seven years old. Tanners kid. Fell down old well. Middens really.” The man didn't seem to care who they were overly, and turned back to shout at the men with the timbers.

“No good! Crap, those won't hold a man; we have to send someone down there. We need thick timbers! Now!” He screamed, sounding a little panicked.

Tor could see why.

The sides of the hole in the ground were crumbling in. He could feel the field shifting, even if it looked solid at the moment, the walls were already collapsing. It probably wasn't even all that deep, but if it caved in, the child died. A thin man in red and white dangled over the edge, feet held by three other men, all big and brawny workman types. They pulled the guardsman out and he shook his head.

“No good Captain... I can't work my shoulders past the first bend and if I try to dig it starts to hit the kid. We can't wrap a rope around a corner neither. Someone has to go down.” He looked the captain dead in the eye and shook his head grimly. If he couldn't do it, as thin as he was, no other man there could either.

A woman who looked to be about twenty-five or so, with dark brown hands and smudges of darkness on her face, cried out loudly.

“Simon! My baby!” A swarthy man in stained clothes and a stout leather apron took her in his arms; both had tears in their eyes. He tried to comfort her, but it didn't seem to be working too well. Of course not. Her boy was about to die in an old shit pit. No comforting could work on her at all right now.

Tor sized up the man that had tried to get to the boy, thin, like he was, but tall, near as tall as Rolph. That made a difference in how big a person really was. He knew that firsthand from fighting practice. Big skinny guys weighed a whole lot more than he did. They were bigger around too. The bones of the shoulder and waist were bigger even if they looked as thin over all. It was a difference in scale. Looking around Tor thought he had what he needed. Or enough to give it a shot anyway. Someone had to try something.

There was a child trapped.

He turned to Rolph and noticed that the girls had landed and stood next to each other about twenty feet back. He pointed at the trunks. And then told Rolph to get him enough rope, at least fifty feet. The tanner, the man holding the woman got big eyes when he saw who was standing there trying to fetch rope to save his child and scrambled to get it himself. Luckily the rope that someone had gotten looked to be both long and strong enough.

“Girls!” He pointed at Sara and Trice. “Get the plates off of the trunks and put them all on the bottom of... Sara's. It's the strongest of them.” It was too, heavy wood with iron banding, meant to last if she had to travel for a few years he guessed. Or possibly if she had to use it to beat someone to death. It was just that solid.