Ancient Kings (The Young Ancients) (56 page)

That was clear in the Ancient's mind though, he knew about all that and it was a major factor in their world, not just something that Tor had been imagining.

Forcing a grin Tor looked at the others and tilted his head, trying to look cute. Like a puppy or a small cat. Harmless and sweet. It was a defense mechanism that he used all the time, but that most thought of as him being manipulative. It wasn't a conscious thing at all and he wouldn't have gotten that others perceived it that way at all even now if Cordes wasn't leaking the information to him.

The fellow was trying to make himself useful, since the Ancient King didn't want to die, and wasn't at all certain that in a mental fight between himself and Tor that he'd be the winner in the end. That's what Tor took from the subtext at least. It was easier to read him, since he was already doing the same with these others, outside of himself.

It could also have been Cordes trying to lull him into a false sense of security, so he'd let his guard down.

He spoke about the cells though, since they were pretty nice, over all.

"They weren't designed to be a punishment. Just a place to store the war prisoners. We have the ability to make them comfortable, and the plan right now seems to be releasing them eventually. Brutalizing them or even being hard with them won't aid us. They were just people following orders after all. I actually did the first design, and set my friend Glaren to cooking for them. She can't help the fact that she's good." It made sense to him but Hobart bowed to him over the table, not bothering to stand up. The other two didn't though, being family.

"That speaks much of your heart, doesn't it?" The voice was a low grumble, which the man couldn't possibly help anymore than a horse could. There was too much size for him to have anything else. "Most would have executed them on the spot, or, if they were lucky, tossed them into a hole with no food for weeks. Why did you set Gerent Lairdgren to the task however? That speaks of... He and his girlfriend were recently imprisoned and brutalized, in Gala. Isn't it a bit mean to make him run a prison now?"

It was. Tor knew it, and had known it. In a way it was probably raping him over and over again, but it was also the best way of doing it. Even if it was unkind of him.

"There's no one else in this entire land that I can count on more to not allow excess or abuse there though. On the good side, it's very nearly as far away from the kind of place that he was in as possible. The Prince even mentioned bringing in some musicians to play for the prisoners the other day. Not that I can afford that now."

That made Hobart frown and look away. Nobles didn't talk about gold, except when they were pointing out how rich they were. It was a bit shameful to be poor, and left you open for all manner of bribes and coercion. Cordes leaked this to him, even though Tor didn't know how he'd know that at all. After all the man in his head should be nearly two and a half millennia out of date, right?

No one was going to speak on that, but the Count looked worried and actually patted his shoulder, which got him to explain.

"I'm putting everything into the war effort and rebuilding the Capital right now. I need to make some more too, which was unexpected. There's an issue at Wildlands Station..." He explained it quickly, afraid that the meal would be ruined by the words, but everyone just ate as they listened.

Hobart looked at him and then bowed over his plate again.

"You do a lot of good works, Tor. I think I can see what you need to do tomorrow though. Claim that the children are all employed by you as apprentices. You're paying for their upkeep and promising them the needed gear to go out and make their way, after their learning is done? That
has
to count."

The rumble made the center of Tor's chest vibrate a little, he noticed. It was strange, but not unpleasant. The man also had a good idea. Tor glanced at the Count, who nodded.

"I agree. That answers the whole thing very legally, without forcing you to have hundreds of adopted children. Good plan Hobart. A few hundred gold should cover the children's needs for a year or so. We should talk about how this came about. You giving over all your wealth to the King." That last bit was dark, and Burks looked ready to slap a certain ruler around a bit over it.

"Ali volunteered it. It's a good way to put the coin back into circulation. Of course inside a few months a big part of it will be back, since a lot of the new businesses in the kingdom are half mine. Collette and a few others have been investing for me, instead of sending the funds directly. It made sense at the time, but it means that I've created a giant money trap. If I don't spend it fast enough I'll destroy Noram." He looked at the others at the table and picked at his chicken. It was pretty good. Lots of rosemary. Who didn't like rosemary? "Oops?"

They laughed at his words, Barbara and Hobart, but Count Lairdgren held up a single finger.

"Ah. Very good then. That's been the major point of concern at the Council of Counts you know. Many parts of the kingdom are in a deep depression economically, due to the sudden lack of fluid currency. It's creating hard feelings already. Perhaps this will help however? Do you need to borrow some gold? I can arrange for a small loan, if you need." The words were funny sounding, almost as if he were joking, which, Tor got from his field after a moment, he was.

"Or I could make the rounds of the shops that handle my magics and see if increasing their stock will help. It will mean a long night for me, but I can do it. No reason to be lazy after all." Except that pesky sleep thing, but he'd live.

There was a chime from the far wall, a clock that had a bell, it rang eight times, marking the hour. For a few seconds Tor just sat and admired the work on it. It was big, and the bell wasn't quiet. He remembered it from his last visit, but had never had a chance to really notice how fine it was. If it had been in the King's Palace no one would have thought twice about it. Hobart saw where he was looking and let a pleasant look cross his face.

"My work. I did that one... Oh, seven years ago now?"

"About that." Barbara agreed, looking at the piece as well. "Hobart is a master craftsman. He made that coffin for you?"

That Tor remembered, only having occasion to ever need the one. It ended up being used too. For the burial of an evil man.

"Right! I paid you for that, didn't I? If not it will be a few days before I can..."

Hobart laughed and shook his head.

"I should tell you that you didn't and that it ran twenty gold, but you did, and it was five silvers. Now a clock like that
would
run twenty, possibly thirty gold, if you want one."

Tor just nodded.

"Can I get ten of them? It may be a while before I have the coin for you, so don't start work yet, but those would make very fine gifts." It was a plan after all, and the man chuckled and stuck his hand out, country fashion as he stood, looming over them all and bent so low that Tor realized he had to be the largest man he'd ever seen.

"Deal then! Good. I was getting tired of only making tables and desks. It will take a while, a year or so, since there's a lot of work needed for each one. I have the parts for two at present. I also hold the right to make them different if I want, based on what the wood tells me to do. You don't have to take them if you don't like the way it comes out." They shook, Tor's hand nearly disappearing in the man's grip. It was clear that the only reason it didn't was that Hobart was trying very hard to interact with him as an equal.

Tor agreed with those terms. You could hardly get better after all.

Then, not sitting again, the giant started to work himself toward the door, his vast hands on his knees, as he shuffled awkwardly. They all got up, and after he twisted through the door, actually having to crawl for part of it, he stood in the front, his feet very carefully on the path. It was an impressive feat, given how large his shoes were.

"Thank you for having me Barbara. I keep telling everyone that I should marry you, but I wouldn't want to make you feel awkward." Why that would be, Tor didn't know, but it seemed to him, from the feelings that came off his cousin that she liked the man. It wasn't love, but given that she probably liked women that way, for sex, it didn't seem a huge problem really.

She smiled about it and nodded.

"I know. It's why you left noble society after all." The feelings were so complex that Tor couldn't really track them. The two were friends and seemed to be attracted to each other, at least enough they could be married, but there was something keeping them apart. It wasn't his business though and he couldn't tell what that would be anyway. Neither focused on it enough to make it clear.

It could have something to do with the fact that Hobart was at least twelve feet tall though. Probably closer to thirteen. It was too hard to tell in the dark, even with the pink magical light still burning.

He waved and carefully made his way down the path vanishing behind a hill not too far away. Once they were inside his cousin frowned at him and looked ready to start hitting, which made no sense at all, even knowing how she was feeling.

"He's a
good
man. If you-" Then she stopped dead, since the Count was suddenly touching her shoulder gently.

"Tor knows that Barbara. I know you fear mocking on the topic, but he wouldn't do that." After a few seconds his cousin seemed mollified and wandered off, muttering something about the need for them to talk.

He and his grandfather.

The man sighed.

"They can't have sex. Hobart is so large in that way that even the biggest noble women would suffer extreme damage if she tried. It's the Four-ten line genetics. The Ross and Ford family both have it, but Hobart is the cleanest example I've seen in over a thousand years. A natural thing, I think. No one altered him. It happens that way at times. Things line up correctly, one of the parents holds a subconscious ideal for their children and manages to influence the fields into organizing in a certain fashion, that kind of thing. And gentle Hobart gets to live with the results of it."

They moved to the basement door, which was a strange place to take a guest, but the perfect spot for a secret conversation, not that Tor figured anything that special was going to be shared. It was the same thing that always happened in this kind of situation for him. He knew there were thousands of things to ask, but he drew a blank and had to fight to come up with something.

After the door was shut and they walked down the wooden steps, the place lit up, a magical light in the ceiling being the only thing that glowed at the moment. The space was filled with hundreds of things that Tor didn't understand, but they didn't move or do anything of note. Glass sheets on boxes, lenses and a lot of strange materials that seemed to be Austran in nature. There was a stone block with several horns and drums on the top, which looked a lot like the flying craft that Julie White used. Only about a tenth as large and hidden behind a shelf.

It was mainly forbidden technology, but the treaty had been suspended for the time being, so no one would bother him over having it. Until it went back into affect. That meant keeping it all hidden the whole time. Otherwise some of the other Ancients would have a problem with him, no doubt.

They settled at the focus stone table, the two chairs being made of the same slick looking black substance with its red highlights. That marked it as having been made at Wildlands, in the furniture shop there. Well, unless the man had gone in himself and made it, in that general location. The soil gave the concentrated dirt a distinctive color.

The older man, who looked very familiar, and attractive at the same time, that part having been built into him, tapped the table with a single finger.

"So, Tor, what did you want to speak with me about?"

It took a moment, but he finally spoke, tapping the table a few times himself.

"Everything that you haven't been telling me, of course."

"Ah. That could take a while then."

Then, surprisingly, Burks laughed and held out both his hands, using the charm that he normally saved for other people. Nobles at court or women.

"First, Tor, I have to point something out to you. I know that I probably seem secretive, and like I'm keeping a lot back from you, but the fact is that I've only withheld a very few things that I thought might negatively impact your development. The rest... I simply forgot to tell you."

There was a stillness then and a long period of silence, as the man tried to organize his thoughts. Tor didn't interrupt, since that would be rude, and rushing the man wasn't going to actually get the information out any faster.

"My mind holds thousands of years of information. Unlike most people, our brains don't forget things, they simply compress data, so that similar events fit together, to save space. For instance, my first wife was named Emily, and my third Felicia. Other than that though, I see the same face for both of them when I try to recall either. They were of a type, certainly, both blond and slightly round faced, but weren't relatives. They didn't even live in the same century. That isn't the problem here however. Not totally. The real fact is that there's too much to go over, unprompted."

Tor could see that, he thought. Thousands of years, crammed into one mind. It would be hard to know what to recall at any given moment.

"So, I should ask questions... Except that I don't know what to ask about in many cases, since it all happened hundreds or thousands of years before my birth? Not helpful." It wasn't an accusation though. After all, they had a problem, it was just a thing they had to move past, somehow. "I think I get the idea though. Alright. So, since I have limited time this evening, maybe I should start? I doubt I'll get it all, but maybe enough to start things off?"

There was no response, which was off-putting. Who just sat there and looked at you like that? At least it wasn't a frown.

"First, the horror that you wouldn't speak of before, that Cordes committed, did it have to do with him genetically altering the people of Noram into a ruling and slave class?" Tor wondered if it was a bad place to start, but Green didn't pause at all. Not even for a full second.

He just let his chin come up a bit.

"Yes. It wasn't a fast thing however. Over the course of about two hundred years he, and I, worked to change the genetic shape of the kingdom. He felt that too much strife had come about due to people wanting to be free, and go their own way. So he used ourselves as a pattern, making a less numerically large, but physically and mentally powerful over-class, and a much more numerous , but physically smaller and less talented underclass. It started to go wrong almost immediately though. That was his madness. He couldn't see how warped the situation was. People with too much power abuse it. Not absolutely, but so much that the world changed into something harder than it was before." Tapping the table he went silent again, and made solid visual contact. Their brown eyes locked, the man clearly thinking he was going to be taken to task for his part in those events.

Except that Cordes filled in the blanks, tossing the information out. They'd been friends, but their natural predilections made Cordes the leader and Burks his follower, in all things. If the Ancient King had mentioned to Green that they should change the populous of Noram, there would be little to no hesitation on his part. There functionally couldn't have been. It was what a genetic slave was.

It probably even made sense at the time, since memories flashed suddenly, showing him the horrible wars and constant battles they'd gone through, every town mayor or bandit chief eventually trying to get more than they had, tearing everything slowly apart. So Cordes supposed that the idea had been to fix it. Not that he knew for certain.

Tor muttered it all out loud, sounding almost like he was dreaming, even to his own ears, but Burks agreed instantly.

"It was very much like that. So we changed the genetics, making the vast majority of the kingdom more or less in my image. Not as intelligent, but bright enough. Not as pale, since the face of the world had changed already, and that would be noticed. Smaller. The most important part was that they'd have the same tractability that you and I share. Not as intensely so, since the idea wasn't to create an army of brainwashed killers for anyone, but enough that it turned them into what we see today. People that can't quite rule themselves. To that end the others were created. The Nobles. Giants, like Cordes, with his combat rage and command abilities in place. As you might have guessed, that was where the real problem came from."

The man didn't so much as blink as he watched Tor, who thought he could see the point, to tell the truth. Too many people in charge meant fighting and scrabbling for position and rank. Tor could never see how that was important at all, but if the desire for it was built in...

"That's where the government came from then? The winners of the wars that followed?"

"Oh, no... Cordes had always liked old stories with Kings and Queens. It was all his idea. I just managed to get it stabilized. After a while. When I ruled here as King, no one would listen to me. We'd made that virtually impossible after all. So I had to do one more bit of tampering of my own. I found one of Cordes' children, since he had several at the time, and created a genetic pattern within him that would breed true. It was a simple pheromone response. Not a sexual attractant, but a command one. It meant that everyone in the Cordes royal line would, from that point on, respond to me, as if I were their leader. I should have simply started a campaign to do further alterations, but the truth is, I didn't think it could be done without greater damage. I doubt my programming, the Rhetistics, would allow it. Not on my own." Then he smiled, even though it didn't seem happy. More brittle and slightly sour than anything else.

It made sense.

"And I have that same scent, or whatever. But it conflicts with the... whatever Cordes put in them to make the nobles not see the underclass as people? Was that on purpose? It really seems like that should have been kind of obvious, as far as mistakes go."

"Heh. It was supposed to simply be a sense of protection, a desire to seek the best for those under them, but Cordes did the work himself and for all his other skills, of which he was a true master, genetics had always been more of a hobby for him, to that point. I didn't catch it either, until it was too late. Though, yes. You have the same effect on the royal family. Not Constance, clearly, but Ricky and his children all think of you as being of higher station than they are. It's a subtle thing, but if you went to the King and ordered him from his throne, he'd leave. Your friend Alphones would as well. Even Kedrin, for all the fool is trying to take over, would do what you told him. Didn't you notice how easily he fell into line the last time you met, even after you assaulted him? If nothing else my life would have been easier if I'd slipped that into the rest of the noble class. Well, live and learn."

 That explained a lot. Even in his own life he'd seen the effects, on all sides. The King deferred to him, a simple kid from the backwoods, as if he were an equal, and did it most of the time. The man was always ready to bow or grovel to him too, even though he flatly refused to do it with his other subjects, no matter how high ranking. The rest of the nobles looked down on Tor though, to greater or lesser degrees. It was only those that knew him well that bothered to think of him as a real person.

He blinked several times and nodded, getting it all finally.

"So, these changes Doris is making, you knew nothing about them, did you? She's of a different line, probably a command line... Like White? They don't look the same, but there's something there... You probably have to do what she tells you to, right?"

The man shrugged.

"Not exactly. Over the course of years I've learned to resist such things, but it takes effort and constant attention when anyone too large or producing the right signals is around. You might be able to do it faster than I did, since you know about it, but for the time being it's clear that you'll remain susceptible for a long time. It's why I had to break up you and Ducharina Morgan. She's a wonderful girl, but not beyond the desire to take power for herself, if she had the right tools. Anyone that has control over you would have all they needed that way. It's why, after you finish making a space fleet for us all, you'll have to give up magic."

He held up his right hand, but didn't go on, since Tor just started nodding.

"I know. At least as anything more than a secret hobby. It's what you do, isn't it? For a while I thought I was just a better builder than you were. Not much, but still, I was coming out with all those things, and you never seemed to. Then that fake Truth amulet you made was so bad that I thought it meant you just weren't very skilled. It isn't true though, is it? You don't need me to make that space craft at all. You could just do it. Probably faster than I could even." Tor read the man as closely as possible, which he clearly noticed, but Green didn't bother trying to hide anything. Not even a little.

"Of course I'm more skilled in that than you are Tor. I've had thousands of years to practice, and I made good use of that time. I have to admit your new copying technique is pretty sharp though. I had to make the Truth amulet that way so that you'd know, someday at least, that I wasn't trying to fool you personally. I might lie to you, but I won't waste it on small things. That would be stupid. I'll tell you this though, you're better than I was at nearly two thousand years old. Part of that is simply that I went first, but you've done some new work as well. The copying, and making those large magical houses for instance." He smiled again and shrugged. "And now, after the current situation is fixed, you'll need to stop, or the whole world will be unbalanced by your actions. We could have weathered the new devices, coming out a few per year perhaps, for the better part of several centuries. Your new technique though... You made nearly a million complex devices in days. Even that one act might unbalance us all. Several of your magical constructs could do it in the end."

He started to list them off, but it was, Tor knew, almost everything he made.

It was rude but he waved a hand for silence and broke in.

"Have I done that already? The flying carriages and transports, better fishing boats... Rivers that pass through the air taking water to places nature didn't see fit to put it."

It almost crushed him in that moment, thinking about it all, but the old man didn't seem to think that was true at all. Not yet.

"The world can use a bit of changing. New plants growing won't harm that much. It changes things, but unless you insist on doing the whole world at once, you can keep track of it all. So, have any clue as to what you'll do next? Move to the country perhaps, and be a farmer?" This time there was a joke in the words, but Tor didn't rise to it, actually thinking instead.

"I was thinking of being a baker actually. Someplace decently large. I can't hide from the world, even if I stop doing magic. Not that I will be for a while. I'll... really, I have some slack, don't I? I can keep the people I have deals with in gear and make new things occasionally too, as long as I hold back the ones that might change the world too much? Like my new planetary liquefier, which would make the ground into a fine powder, and destroy all life?" Tor's smile was as forced as the one on the Count's face, but after a moment he licked his lips to wet them and then stood.

 "You know, I really thought I'd be in for more of a fight over all of this. I think my early memories of myself show me in a feistier light than the reality must have been. If I was anything like you then I was a sensible and reliable sort of person after all, instead of the spoiled brat I thought I was. To answer your question, yes. You have time for a full career. I'd hold off on making millions of devices. Farm your copy work out to the Lairdgren Group instead. It will take a long time for a few thousand extra devices a month to actually change things a lot. Once things spread out a bit. This current war is going to be a slaughter though, on both sides."

That was a thing that Tor was going to need explained. He looked at the Ancient, waiting for some almost unheard of wisdom, but got a sigh instead.

"Think Tor, it's why you have a brain. You've let yourself get mentally lazy in some ways. You don't have my Rhetistics anymore, so you need to learn new skills. If all the nobles, who tend to be aggressive and hold peasants in low esteem have your work they can't harm each other directly. So what will they do? What did Tiera do in County Morris?"

"She only damaged property. Took down businesses and houses... Except she views people as people, not livestock or something like a simple tool...
Gods
." It was plain, now that it had been pointed out. There wasn't a lot he could do about it either.

"Indeed. It hasn't happened yet, and might not. The best possible result here is to end the rebellion quickly. In the end of this, a Cordes must sit on the throne. When I was King things weren't stable at all, as I mentioned. You'd do no better. Short of altering all the people of this land we can't fix it and the most likely outcome of trying to do that directly would be another mass dying. Cordes and I ended up with a quarter of all our people being slaughtered. It was why I broke away from myself enough to go to the others with the situation. He was a very persuasive man, in his time." There was just a hint of longing in the words, but no explanation of them.