The Builder (The Young Ancients) (8 page)

That night he worked out what the rapid food drying setup would take. It wasn't nearly as hard as he thought it would be. He double, then triple checked the work. Tor could probably get it done on his next off day, if he skipped out on sleeping.

Then, out of a strange desire to not die, he started working on the shield. His experience earlier had been instructive about things he never would have even considered before. Like breathing. That dust had probably been designed to make it hard to breathe as well as blind him. Could he form some kind of breathing tube or filter to keep something like that out? Yes... It was particulate in nature, so he could just make sure that nothing less fluid than air could come through, no matter how small. Easy enough really.

As he sat at his desk he lost track of time again, working on a dozen different things at once, finding a way around problems as well as he could, when he could, and coming back over and over again to the things that just didn't have answers. How could he absorb the force of a sword blow? Or a cutter for that matter? Could he shunt the physical force into the ground? It should be possible to pass force along like that, but he couldn't think of any kind of magic that already did it. He'd have to figure it out on his own. That would take testing. Whee. Maybe he could get Rolph to help him?

When Rolph shook his shoulder he startled hard.

“What?” He yelled, jumping half out of his hard wooden chair, getting a laugh from the other boy.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, it's just half an hour after your normal bed time and you were just sitting there, not moving. Thought you might have fallen into a trance like you do...”

Which Tor had, he nodded and started to straighten the papers and writing implements on the desk in front of him.

After that the giant boy started getting ready for bed, so Tor followed suit. Losing too much sleep wouldn't help, he'd need to be as sharp as possible from now until after he had the shield made. Besides, now that Tor thought about it, he was exhausted already. He'd been up for a long time, which probably explained it. His head hurt a little and he felt fuzzy mentally, so he probably needed to sleep more than it seemed.

Even though Rolph liked to complain about the beds every now and again, even going so far as to have a new mattress brought in, Tor didn't mind what the school provided. It was better than what he'd had at home and no one jabbed him with a bony elbow in the side while he rested. He fell asleep quickly, more than a little exhausted by the events of the day.

The next day was just as hard, if in a different way. After his morning classes a younger student found him in the dining room and told him that advisor Gear wanted to see him in his office after he'd eaten. The girl, who looked about fourteen, flipped her light blond hair at him after delivering the message, dismissing him without another thought. Fair enough. He didn't plan on thinking about her either. He had real things to worry about.

Like not dying.

When he got to Frank's office a strange man sat in front of the desk, his advisor behind it smiling up at him when he walked in.

“And here he is now. Torrence Baker, this is Merchant Donald Sorvee. His family runs a very large sales concern in Western Noram and he's asked to speak to you in regards to this novel device you've created.”

The man dressed all in deep purple velvet that was so dark it could have passed for black in most light. Tor liked the color a lot. On his head sat a ridiculous, and probably expensive, floppy hat in bright red, with a single huge black feather sticking out of it. The black hair underneath it looked to be greasy at first, but then he realized it was just some kind of hair oil or slick, rather than a medical condition. There was something about the man that Tor just didn't like, even if he couldn't place his finger on it. Like he was evil... or dangerous.

The man spoke smoothly and quickly, as if trying to dazzle Tor with words. It might have worked if he didn't start out by offering to buy as many of the dryers as Tor could make for two golds each. He smiled at the man who sat next to him and shook his head.

“I'm sorry, but I already made arrangements with someone to handle sales, you'll have to go through her.” Sara seemed better equipped to handle a slick person like this than he was. Not a difficult task, since he'd only spoken to a half dozen merchants in his life and all those had been in their shops, mainly telling him that what they carried was too expensive for him. If nothing else she could probably knife the man and dump the body. Trice would help no doubt. “Her name's Sara, she's one of the special school students? I'm sure you could find her there now.”

Tor didn't shrug, but wanted to. For all he knew Sara was sitting in the library or off in town getting drunk or there were a half dozen girls by that name in the special section. It was pretty common after all. But for some reason he really wanted to get away from the creepy fellow in front of him. It wasn't that the man had done anything wrong, more that it just felt like he might. Like he really wanted to. It took a while to convince the man that his agent, a school girl, was really the person he needed to talk to. Tor didn't have the girl's last name, but hoped that wouldn't be too big a problem for the man. He really didn't want to meet up with him again.

When the guy left, Frank looked at him with a smile, it wasn't sour, not exactly, but it didn't seem too pleased either. “Are you sure that's wise? A deal like this doesn't come around every day...”

It wasn't he assured his advisor that he didn't want gold, but that the man had been offering a tiny fraction of the current sales price that had done it. Instructor Gear whistled when he heard the going rate. Then he shrugged and told Tor that if he had any other ideas or new builds, the staff would be there to test them at need. The implication was that, in the future, such testing should be remunerated if needed at all. It seemed fair to him, so he nodded seriously, taking the drying field template back before leaving.

He'd have to see if he could get any of the metal he'd need for the copies as soon as possible. How he was supposed to get the funds for it he didn't know. Maybe sell one of his younger siblings? But by tradition that would only give him livestock of course, which wouldn't do him a lot of good. Plus his mother would actually get the animals, not him.

Not really helpful at all.

That afternoon Kolb decided that the previous day's poor performance meant that he'd be best served by practicing his running it seemed, even if the man didn't say it out loud, so Tor ran back and forth to Lenders three times and then had to hack at a pell for half an hour when he got back. His right arm felt like it was about to fall off by the time he got back to his room, where he immediately started working on the shield project, exhausted or not.

There just wasn't time not to.

No wonder these things were so expensive... Just to get it to do half of what would be needed took fifteen separate linked fields that all had to be grown together. Way harder than his simple little clothes drying device.

On the good side, he had, by making a small but decently powerful cutter to use for testing, figured out how to set up a background pattern that would scramble any incoming field of information that used direction. Unfortunately it meant that he couldn't just mix the physical shielding portion with it. Instead he layered that one just underneath the disruption field. Both had to allow air in, which meant figuring out how to filter particles out of the air. It was harder than it sounded, and it didn't sound easy. Finally he worked out a way of keeping things as fine as smoke out, mainly at least, that still let air through. All of the fields had to exist inside this filter, including the one to block directional fields. Of course the filter was a directional field...

Another problem.

Eventually, just before dinner time, a soft knock came at the door. It took him a second to realize what the sound was and he blinked for a moment, baffled by it. Taking a deep breath he asked whoever was there to hold for a moment, trying to bring himself back to reality long enough to deal with whatever the problem might be. No one would be knocking on his door without Rolph there if it wasn't bad news.

At the door stood Sara and her friend Trice, both dressed in low cut and tight fitting black dresses that showed a lot of smooth bare shoulder considering how chilly it was outside still. Before he could speak Trice pushed her way in.

“Come to check in on you and make sure Sorvee didn't come back put the squeeze on. That guy's a real piece of work, but Sara told him that Debri house already held the contract for re-sale, which should keep him away for a bit, at least on the clothes drying device. If he's smart he'll probably come back just on general purposes to build the contact.”

For all that Sara looked far less ready to just push her way into his room she followed her friend and shut the door behind her easily enough. It was chilly out, and a wave of cool air followed them.

“That's alright, isn't it? That I told him that? I mean, he said that you told him I was your sales agent, so I bent the truth a little. If nothing else you can get a better deal by going with almost anyone other than his group. They'll rob you blind, and then convince you to thank them for doing it. Not that most merchants won't take advantage of you, but few are as bad as Sorvee.” The blond blushed prettily about something, and looked down.

“Hey, um... what kind of percentage do you think fair? This is kind of a big deal, but I'm not really in the business you know? I have some contacts with Debri of course... my mom and brother and all, but that's not really the same as knowing what I'm doing yet...”

Torrence shrugged and wondered if they'd dressed up just to see him or if they had a party to go to? Probably not anything to do with him, he decided. They both already knew they didn't have to impress him. Once you beat a guy up half a dozen times that ship's probably well and truly sailed, right? Smiling he pointed at the papers to the left of the ones he worked on.

“Well, if you can get up to speed on this one, I should have a food dryer ready to go by next week. Then I really have to work on the shield project full time after that. If I don't want to die at least.” For some reason that he didn't get, both girls laughed. When he asked why Sara blushed again, but Trice touched his arm gently and smiled.

“We just have every confidence that you'll live, if you put your mind to it. We heard Kolb talking to the head of our department, he thinks you can do it, no problem, or he wouldn't have set you the task. They very rarely murder the students here you know. It cuts down on enrollment too much.”

For some reason, the idea didn't feel right to him. Then again, the first time he'd tried to block a punch, the bald giant had made sure that Tor knew he'd hit him in the head if he missed. It had worked out pretty well, fear making Tor a lot faster than he'd have been otherwise. Maybe it was like that? Only this time if he screwed up he'd be dead? Let him know the threat was real to get his attention? If that was the plan, it worked. Tor felt focused on it indeed.

Changing the subject, he looked at the blond, realizing that while she was taller than he was, she was shorter than Trice by a few inches, and told her ten percent. He didn't even have to explain what he meant, she just nodded.

“That's fair. More than fair really. I'll... let you out of the deal if you need to later, alright? I don't want to hurt your business prospects. Still, get with me when you have anything ready, oh!” She scrambled at her waist and seemed to remember that the somewhat skimpy outfit she wore didn't have any pockets.

“Um, no calling cards. Well, if you need me, ask Rolph or Tovey to help you find me or Trice, if you need one of us, alright? They both know where to find us.”

Trice got up and walked out then, without another word. Sara followed with a wave over her shoulder that seemed genial enough. Both of them looked good, dressed as they were. Fit. The outfits didn't leave a lot to the imagination though. That, of course, wasn't his concern at the moment. Had Sara really just suggested that if he needed to find her he should go and get a sitting Count to act as his guide?

Sure, he'd just show up on the man's doorstep and haughtily demand to be escorted. Sara would be sure to come to the funeral right? So it might even work, if not exactly in the desired fashion. Of course he had no idea where to find the man anyway, so he was pretty safe from that fate.

Did the girls think he and the Count were friends? It kind of sounded like it. How odd. Just looking at him Sara had to realize he was probably one of the most common people on campus.