Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon) (8 page)

"I need to go, the festivities are starting. I look forward to meeting you in person."

"And I you. Thanks."

The line dropped out then, as Judith smiled knowingly.

"Told ya. You didn't need me at all. Didn't even have to drop my name. Everyone knows that you're important already. More than me at least." There was a slight hint of bitterness to the words, but she didn't explain. Really it wasn't needed. Her face told the whole story.

She was trapped between two different worlds. A girl that was from the country, thrust into the world of power and position, but knowing the whole time that it was, at best, only temporary. That probably explained her willingness to do things like work as a pilot while in school. She needed to set herself up for an entire life after all, and being a fighter, while a job, wasn't a very good one. Most of the nobles that took that course of study were really just big people that weren't all that academically inclined, when you got down to it. Judy wasn't ever going to be leading the Printer Armies into war for instance, or even leading the charge for them, most likely.

She was just stuck that way.

Timon grunted, a low sound that came with a fake grin.

"Oh, I'm important now? Good to know. Why? Because my brother is the best builder ever? That one's a mixed bag, I'll tell you now. For every good thing that's come of being around him, an equally bad one always seems to happen. I guess it balances, but it isn't something that I'm particularly fond of."

That got her to cross her arms and glare down at him as he put his communications device away. Or started too. He realized that it was hers and laughed, handing it back before she could say anything. It made it look almost like he'd been playing with her, pretending to take her device, but she didn't let that distract her at all.

"Y'all look here. We've been at war for near on four months and had two real battles so far. I fought in one of them, at the Capital, but most the Lairdgren kids were there, so it ain't that special. In that time one of the main traitors was kilt, and one captured. Then you come here, by your lonesome, and get Countess Montblanc to surrender to you just by knocking on her door? That ain't normal, is it?" Her accent was thickening a lot. It wasn't too much for him to hear through, but it did show she was a little worked up for some reason.

He smiled at her and shook his head.

"You helped with Count Rodriguez. That was important. Most of the rest of that was just me trying to survive, or, I don't know, maybe die well? How about this; I'll stop whining, if you do? What's with the moodiness today anyway? Did something happen that I don't know about? Some relationship thing or something like that? If some boy turned you down, he's a moron."

"No. Nothing like that. I just had some words with Holly earlier. I want to go back home and join the military, but she won't hear of it, because I'm her heir. I sort of told her that I was going to run off and join the King's Army, but she said that she'd shut that down if I did. Then she sent me along here, trying to pretend that
this
is something important or daring. Like it ain't just some party." There was a sullen look to follow the words, which clearly told anyone watching that she expected Tim to say that Holly was right about at least the last point.

The fact was, that he didn't care enough to bother. Not on that topic.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that yet. I have some other plans for you."

"Really? What, me on my knees while you..." At least she stopped before the last bit came out.

"Heh. No. Oddly enough. That still wouldn't line up. Think about it. Tor is going to have a new batch of Fast Craft ready soon, and if all goes well, so will I. My Aunt Orange is going to be leading the new space fleet, but she'll need pilots and you can already do at least part of what's needed. As soon as possible I was thinking that we could set up a training school for that. Plus I don't want to lose you as a pilot yet. You do decent work after all. It's not like I can let Mark take over when I go off to school next year, and Morgan, while a great person, is a commoner. Most of our clients are going to be nobles for a long time. That leaves either you or Tiera and I'd rather not have every other pick-up end in a duel."

The girl scowled at him for a bit, but then shook her large head, her thin body tense.

"I guess. Holly might forbid that too. It's like she
wants
me to end up back in a cabin on the river, you know?"

Timon didn't know, of course. He'd never met the woman, but it really didn't seem likely.

"More to the point, my bet is that she's afraid that she'll die without issue, leaving the County to you. I don't know what she's been up to that makes her think that, but it fits what she told you."

He left out the part about anyone wanting to join the military at sixteen being a moron. She wasn't one really, even if she wasn't as smart as he was. Few were.

"Well, I guess I could try your plan, if I can. Think that this Orange Ancient will have me?" She did not sound sure of that herself at all.

"I have no clue. She seems like your kind of person, so why not? Your mind is young and malleable still, and you have hobbies in common, such as thrashing people that annoy you. It should be a good starting place at least."

Then he started to load the slightly warm winter cakes onto a tray, for transportation into the house. It was creeping up on time for others to start showing up after all. He'd made five dozen of the things. Hopefully that would be enough. They were having a full dinner to go with it, but it was kind of a random thing, as to what anyone would bring. In Two Bends when they did that kind of thing they always had to make a list of who was bringing what, since otherwise they always ended up with ten batches of vinegar potatoes. Everyone loved it, but there were limits to that.

No one had even tried that for this little event, whatever it really was.

Noram's Vigil, of course, but a very slapped together party.

The set up didn't really need him overly, since the decorations were already up and the food was coming out nicely enough it seemed. The girls from the school were making things without burning anything at all. That didn't mean things wouldn't be undercooked, of course, but it smelled pretty good. It would be awkward and make him look bad if he just stood around, so Tim decided to help get the food inside, to the ball room. It looked pretty nice, in a slightly country fashion. The pine bows were on the walls, tied with ribbon, as they should be, but there were also hand painted decorations and plush metal colored garlands that were made of silk.

It made sense that a Countess would have things like that in storage, but someone had to have been moving pretty fast to get that done. It appeared to be a combination effort, with Mr. Combs and Mitchell actually working up a sweat as they got it all ready. The butler looked red and a bit uncomfortable, dressed in his fine work outfit already. It had damp spots on it already.

That didn't stop him at all.

He was an older fellow, nearly thirty by the look of him, his hair thinning on the top but still a nice dark color that looked black at the moment, given the light and the level of effort. It was clear that he was a good worker, as well as talented. The place had gone from an empty room made of polished wood to something that anyone would be proud to call their own.

The table with the food was set up, as Ali had promised, school fashion. That wasn't the way they ate in the dining room, from what he'd seen, so it probably referenced something that the kids themselves did at parties. That or the classes in the homemaking section were a lot different than he thought they'd be.

At a bit before seven almost everyone suddenly vanished, heading into the large house itself, a thing that was nearly a true Palace, but not exactly big enough for that designation, or into one of his little cottages. Mainly to change and clean up, Tim figured. It was a good point. He covertly sniffed under his arm as he walked to do the same thing. He wasn't exactly ripe, but there was a mustiness that wouldn't work well at a party. That got him to move into the shower for about ten minutes, scrubbing with some nice lime scented soap, then standing under the cool forced air drying system for about five minutes. It left him a little damp, but clean.

Then it was just a few moments of focus to change his outfit into a nice, very dark red, velvet outfit. He gave it a light blue trim and set it to seem real, making it a little uneven at the cuffs and causing what looked like a few errant threads to poke out in just a few places. Then he added a couple of spots of fake lint, and combed his hair back. It was pretty short, since that was the fashion now, and easier to take care of. It meant finding a barber every month or two, but that took less time than pony tails and constant brushing. He wasn't a horse after all.

At first no one showed up, which had Heather looking a bit firm around the mouth. It bothered her, Tim could tell, but she clearly didn't think that many people would show up. Why would they? It was both a last minute party, on one of the biggest days for that sort of thing during the year, and at the same time was being held in a plague zone. Even if people were willing to forgive her little spot of treason, that made it unlikely that many would be coming to celebrate with them.

Tor would come. After all, his wife was there. That probably meant at least a few others would show up too. It was a bit surprising that they hadn't shown up already, but not that much. After all, Trice seemed like the kind of person that would make others late, just to be in fashion.

At fifteen after the hour Timon found himself standing next to Heather at the front door of her home, trying to think of what to say to help her feel better about herself and the whole situation. Having her feel slighted wasn't going to make her love the King any more than she did, and things were kind of strained there for some reason anyway.

Thankfully a knock came. It was a bold and powerful pounding, a human fist on wood, coming from about six feet up the large double doors at the front of the place. That meant it was a giant. That or someone smart enough to fake it.

He smiled, not able to think of who would be coming that was that tall.

"There we go. At least one person decided to come and visit with me." The Countess didn't seem all that relieved really, but answered the door herself. The butler was busy and it actually looked better. Not as rich and powerful, but more humble. Heather could use that to her advantage.

When the large thing opened there was a massive form on the other side. He was tall, dressed in bright green, which meant he'd come for the party and not to fight, and had a bottle in his hand. That was also a very good sign. His wild beard was the normal red brown that it always was, but the man was smiling, which only happened about half the time.

"Heather!" Count Peterson looked around and then down at Timon. It took a second, but recognition flashed finally. The man wasn't a genius, but he was smarter than he looked. "And Countier Baker! I'd heard that you'd stepped in for County Montblanc." There was no hint of joking or derision in the words at all. In fact the man bowed to
him
first, then Heather. It was a very peculiar thing, which got the Countess to stiffen a little, which Peterson caught, his face going hard suddenly.

"That's no small thing, and
not
a joke, Heather. I've stood shoulder to shoulder with the man in combat, and
he
took most of the foe himself. Rogue military men, all well armed, and set to kill King Richard and his Lady wife, the Queen. Don't let his lack of years fool you. No one hearing that he stands for you will think it less than real if they have a thought in their head." He sounded almost gruff about it, as if he were actually upset with the woman for not knowing all of that.

He made up for it with another bow toward her.

"It's good to see you back on the side of law and right. I have to say, I was most surprised that you threw in with the rebellion in the first place. We should discuss that, but later, when prying ears and eyes won't have as much of a chance to find out secrets. Now, where's the party?" He hefted the bottle, which was clearly his offering to the festivities.

Tim grinned. It was a decent fallback move, if you weren't certain what else to do.

"Through the door to the right there, but so far it's just you and a few schoolgirls. Well, and Mitchell. He's in the fighters section from Lairdgren. So is Judith Press. You should see if they have anything in common to talk about, until the adults get here." The Count ran the Flyers Corp after all. Both of the students would have skills that overlapped with his area of expertise even. It might be boring to talk about work, but Tim could sweeten the pot a little at least, with some extra information.

"Judy is going to be a trainer for the new space fleet. You two should get together and form a power block on the topic now, before anyone can steal it away from you. It fits your military specialty more than anyone else so far."

He didn't have to explain more than that at all, the man just throwing his head back to laugh hugely.

"Excellent! How will I know her?"

"Tallest girl there. Just go in yelling for Judith and that should work too." It was a joke, but clearly Raul Peterson just took him at his word, because the name was rather bellowed a few moments later, after he was out of sight.

Heather gave him a wide eyed look then.