Nightlord: Shadows (71 page)

I continued to pace around the table, thinking.

What can I do about any of this right now? Should I wake people up and start questioning them? Obviously not. How about I just keep on moving in the same direction? Everyone can make up their own mind about what he/she/it wants and how to get it. If I’m open enough about my willingness to be reasonable, maybe they’ll consider asking me for help, rather than trying to use me for their own ends. Or they’ll use me for their own ends without bothering to ask, assuming I’d help them anyway, despite how much that’s likely to piss me off.

Politics. I may be a blood-sucking parasite, but I’m not a politician. I’m neither talented at nor trained for this.

I stopped in front of the mirror; it was embedded in the wall at about the right height. I scratched the wall with a fingernail, lightly, to mark where the bottom of the frame should go. It started drifting downward, slowly.

My reflection looked back at me, seeming sad. I couldn’t blame it.

Well, fine. Time to go
do
something, rather than pace in circles around a sand-table and brood. I don’t like brooding. I’m sure I have a talent for it, what with being a vampire and all, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I kind of feel like that about most of the traditional vampire stuff. There’s a time and a place for everything.

Although, I must admit, give me a castle on a mountaintop, a billowing cloak, and a good thunderstorm… I could be pretty stereotypical for a while.

Something to do… I could start work on enchanting the table, or I could see if the gate was charged enough to use, or I could go ride along the new road to see if I could speed it along, or get more lumber, or design a coin stamp, or… there were a thousand things to do, still.

At two in the morning? Hmm.

Before I enchant the table, I need to get some work done on special scrying spells. Put that on hold.

Check the gate. Yes, it’s charged, but I want to have it open twice—once to get me there, once to get me back. Switch survivors on scrying shield charging to gate charging. And remember to check with the guards to make sure they’re feeding them enough. It might be good to double-check their proficiency with turning the vitality-draining spell off and on.

Table the road survey; people are already on that, and I don’t want to make that ride just at the moment.

Lumber? People are also on that. Patience, patience…

Firebrand? I’m not going to go haring off to recover it when I don’t know where it is. I might see if I can locate it, though. To be fair, it’s not as high a priority. The brief contact I had didn’t give me any feelings that it might be unhappy where it was. If it’s doing okay, as I suspect it is, then I can put Karvalen on a more secure military footing before recovering it.

How about economic and industrial footing?

Coin stamp? Delegate that to someone with artistic ability in the morning.

Oh! Water wheels—delegated already; people are building the things while the mountain finishes the waterways. That means we can start working on a pulp mill for paper.

Hmm. What goes into making ink? If we wind up with a lot of paper, we’ll need pens, ink, and pencils. I need to improve on quills, that’s certain. They look lovely, and the calligraphy is wonderful, but I want my ballpoint.

Fields? Huge tracts of land, thoroughly plowed and planted. Maybe I need to work on irrigation, now. Maybe some Archimedes’ Screw devices and some windmill sails to turn them, getting water from the canals? I’ll draw some diagrams for the screws and see if we can build a few, set them up, and see how they work. I’m not a farmer, but we have quite a few I can consult, once they can see what it’s doing.

Herds? We’ve got a few riders out to cutting a few
dazhu
out of the free-range herds. They’ll chivvy them back over the bridges. Our ranch area between the canals and Eastrange is slowly repopulating.

I need to talk to the farmers and the ranchers about rotating the fields. A four-field rotation system would be a really good idea. But I also need to find a way to keep our herds from wandering off when they’re in the fields on the east side of the north-south canals. More canals to block them off, maybe? It could help with irrigating to have water on all four sides, I suppose…

Foundry? We do need more metalworkers. Kavel and his sons, and the new armorer, Galar, are moving right along with armoring every combatant and making the other metalwork we need—gears, chains, hinges, and all the little things. I do need to show Galar how to make the armor latches I want; they’ll be a lot faster and more durable than straps and buckles. That means some modifications on how they fit armor to a person, but it should be worth it.

I’ve already delegated the alloy research to Kavel and his staff. I could just go home long enough to pick up a materials handbook. Maybe we could put the armor on hold until I get that done? Probably. It would be nice to avoid making the Mark One suit of improved armor for everyone only to have to make the Mark Two version, then upgrade to the Mark Three or Four.

Flim? I suspect I should send him some steel cable. Cable is much stronger than chain, and when it starts to go, it gives one strand at a time, warning you about failure, rather than just popping a link unexpectedly. I’ll talk to Kavel about wire…

Beltar. I need to see about knighting him.

Canal boats. One is nice, two will be better. Can I help the shipwrights along in any way other than the lumber supply?

Light spells. I should really do a proof-of-concept, small-scale version, just to make sure I have all the bugs stomped.

I have a to-do list as long as a king’s arm.

Aaaand… go.

I finally decided to work on the light spell, last night. It doesn’t really generate light; it just acts like a light guide—like a fiber-optic channel. Light comes in and flows around inside it until it comes out where I want it. I put a spell on the side of the mountain, a big, black place on the outside of the upper courtyard wall, and ran the light pipe to a corridor. The input is about ten square feet, a big circle; the output is the same area, just an inch wide and running for over a thousand feet. (Ten square feet is twelve hundred square inches—not a ten-foot square, which is 14,440 square inches. Math again. Sorry about that.)

That run of corridor has a nightlight. We’ll see how it looks later this afternoon. If it’s not bright enough, I’ll connect frequency-shifter filters to move infrared and ultraviolent into the visible range and see if that’s enough for daytime.

Tianna got up before sunrise, which was only to be expected. I opened up the pivot-door to the terrace so she could go out for her sunrise prayers. I occupied the tub and took care of my personal grooming while the sunrise ran its course. Everyone has their morning routine, I guess.

One of the serving-girls—I didn’t catch her name—brought up a large tray of food for breakfast; Tianna forgot to thank her until I did, then she chimed in like a proper little lady.

“Grandpa?” she asked, once we were alone.

“Yes?”

“Why do you thank servants?”

“Is she a servant?” I countered.

“Well, she brought our food.”

“And I thanked her for it. Should I not have?”

Tianna looked troubled at this, but kept eating. After some thought, she asked a different question.

“If she’s not a servant, we should thank her, but if she is a servant, do we still need to?”

“We don’t
need
to thank anyone,” I pointed out. “We do it because it’s polite.”

“Even servants?”

“Are servants people?”

“Yes.”

“There’s your answer.”

“But they’re just doing their jobs.”

“Hmm,” said I, around a mouthful of bread. I swallowed and said, “When you do something to heal a person, do they thank you?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re just practicing. You have to do it anyway. Should people thank
you
?”

“Hmm,” she said, sounding just like me while she considered that. I heard a faint thumping on the door. I forgot to install a doorbell. Well, I’ve been busy. I let Tort in, along with my personal guards.

As they stood next to Tort, I really looked at Torvil, Kammen, and Seldar for the first time in a long while. They were definitely taller and wider than they used to be. Even so, they looked as though they had been hitting the steroids pretty hard. It was hard to believe they weren’t even eighteen, yet; they had musculature and size appropriate for a gym rat in his mid-twenties.

I made a note that we should make sure there were no unpleasant side effects. I really should take a detailed look at their innards, and soon.

“Good morning,” I offered. “Won’t you please join us while we finish breakfast?”

They did, and Torvil started off even as he dragged a chair over for Tort.

“Sire, about this Sedrick, your guest?”

“What about him?”

“He… He’s…” Torvil rolled a hand through the air, as though swimming through words. “He came here to kill you.”

I nodded at him to continue, then looked at what I was eating. Bacon? It looked like bacon, but it didn’t taste quite right.
Dazhu
bacon, or some other animal? Key question: Do I want to know? I decided not.

“The man thinks he’s a Hero, and he’s after a name,” Torvil continued. “He’s here to kill what he thinks is a terrible monster from beyond the Edge of the World. He’s here to kill our King.”

“You seem upset,” I observed.

“We’re all upset!” Torvil replied. “It’s our job to keep you safe, and I have a hard time not telling Kammen and Seldar to draw steel and follow me to kill him!” Kammen and Seldar glanced at each other; the look said it all. Torvil’s a competitive hothead and they know it.

I had to feel for Torvil. He’s got a tough job, and none of them really know how to be bodyguards—a very different thing from being a soldier.

“Okay. Here’s what I think.” They all leaned forward to pay close attention. “This guy is a Hero, or wants to be. Right now, he’s about as confused as he’s ever going to be. He came here expecting to find a black-hearted fiend ruling over terrified peasants with an iron fist, possibly aided by faceless minions without conscience or pity. That sound about right?”

There was general agreement.

“He said something about that,” Torvil said. “I heard him asking someone about where all the knights were. The answer was something like, ‘We’re still learning what it means to be a knight.’ There was more to it, but it came down to the fact that you don’t think most of them have proven they’re moral and upstanding and so on.”

“Not bad,” I said, nodding. “So, what happens if he challenges me to a duel?”

“We kill him,” Torvil answered, promptly. “Kings don’t duel.”

I sighed and reminded myself that there are downsides to trying to be subtle, or even Socratic. I already knew there were downsides to being undead. Or a king. Or immortal. Or—nevermind; I could go on for a while.

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted. “What I was trying to get at is that if he challenges me, he’s a dead man. I’m
trying
to make him see that he shouldn’t—not because it’ll get him killed, but because as horrible, nasty, evil things go, I’m not really all that bad. See?”

“You mean he doesn’t know that?” Torvil asked, uncertainly.

“If he knew that, he wouldn’t be thinking about trying to kill me. He’d be off somewhere else, hunting for something that really
does
need a good beheading.”

“Oh,” he said. I could hear the unspoken, “Oops” in his voice.

“What did you do?” I asked, suspicious.

“Nothing. Sire.”

“He really hasn’t,” Kammen supplied. “We were just clear about killing him the instant he showed steel.”

“Did you tell him that?” I asked.

“Well, yeah. Sire.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” I allowed. “And now?”

“I guess we still kill him, but only if we can’t talk him out of it?” he asked.

“That’ll do. What else do we have on for today?”

They all reported on various things in the city, from waterwheel assembly to a second forge being opened, from property boundary disputes to arguments over house ownership.

“People have the run of a city, an
empty
city, and they’re arguing over housing?” I asked, just to make sure I understood.

“Well,” Kammen said, “some farmers want to live near the gates, and some think closer to the inner court is safer, and then there’s the guys who are working the new docks to handle cargo off the boat—”

“They can’t make up their minds,” I summarized.

“Well, yeah. Sire.”

“Can Beltar walk, yet?” I asked.

“Uh? Yeah, Sire. He’s been up and around already. Guy from the Wizard’s Guild, professional healer…”

“Vornych,” Seldar supplied.

“Yeah, that guy. Said Beltar’s good to get up, but take it easy. Seldar agreed with him. That okay?” Kammen asked.

“I’d think so. Beltar is up for a knighting this evening. Then I’m putting him on civil duty to sort out these arguments. We’re going to name every street and number every damn house, and keep records of who has what. I’m not having this sort of thing.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“All right. Anything else?” I asked. Seldar raised a hand. I restrained a weary sigh. I’ve never liked meetings, and here I am at the center of the things. “Yes?”

“Is there anything you want us to do?” he asked. “By that, Sire, I mean that we presently… do not do… anything of consequence?” he finished, looking at Torvil and Kammen for support.

“We just use everyone else for mops on the practice floor,” Kammen amplified. Torvil nodded, grinning.

“I suppose my question,” Seldar continued, “is whether or not you wish us to have any other duties, aside from our practice and our drills, Relentless One.”

“I guess that depends,” I replied, slowly, ignoring Seldar’s latest nickname. He seemed rather serious. “Do you feel that you have sufficient time to take on other duties?”

They glanced at each other, then nodded.

“If they aren’t big ones,” Kammen added. “I kinda like this,” he added, flexing an armload of rippling muscle.

I was struck by the impression that they were… well, not bored, exactly, but feeling the monotony of days devoted to nothing but martial skills and exercise. There comes a point when you have to use what you know, rather than practice it. Or simply learn something new.

“All right. I’ll talk to Kelvin about it. Now, though, you can finish what’s left of breakfast. I’m going to take the morning off and see if I can enjoy it with my granddaughter.”

“Yes, Sire.”

It was another nice day, although a bit cloudy. Tianna was enjoying her playmates in the courtyard and seemed not to mind the occasional bump, whump, or thump. I watched them for some time, enjoying the fact she could play with them. She’s so good-natured, I wondered if she really needed a safety spell. I saw her get knocked sprawling more than once; she sat there, rubbed whatever hurt, then got up to keep playing. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in her.

Kelvin joined me in the courtyard. We sat on the steps at the base of the outer wall and talked for a bit. I told him how the King’s Guards needed some more responsibilities, and he agreed there were a few things they might ease into. We agreed that they were good boys, rapidly becoming men; they just needed experience, seasoning. He had no problems to report and went on his way, the picture of a man on top of the world.

It was a good morning, I thought.

On the other hand, Linton, one of the boys I’d called down off the outer wall the day before, was on it again, jumping from merlon to merlon over the gaps in the crenellations.

I snatched him right off the wall and paddled him. To the sudden crowd of onlookers, I announced that it was a crime, punishable by six good swats, to play on top of the wall, with the punishment going up by three swats for every offense. This seemed to make an impression on the children, at least, which was the whole point.

I really don’t want to have to clean a crumpled kid off the road below. Maybe I won’t have to. With a little luck, I might not have to deal with an irate father, complaining about how nobody paddles his kid but him. If it comes right down to it, I’ll take a scolding from an angry parent if I have to; I won’t have children falling off a cliff.

Sir Sedrick was one of the adult watchers. He hung around after I shooed the crowd away. While the children went back to being children—without playing on the wall—I nodded to him to join me. We walked around the ring of the courtyard.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

“Sir Sedrick. What’s on your mind?”

“You, Your Majesty.”

“Oh?”

“I… am not sure what to make of you.”

“If I was simple enough for me to explain, I’d be too simple to do it.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Nevermind,” I told him. “Confuse you much, do I?”

“Exceedingly so. You seem not at all the evil I was expecting.”

“Oh. Well, hang around. I’m sure I’ll do something horrible to someone. I’m a king. It’s kind of unavoidable.”

“That’s not the kind of evil I mean, Your Majesty.”

“I’m sorry, that’s the only kind of evil I have on hand. Do you have anything specific in mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“If all else fails, I’m sure something evil and unpleasant will show up and try to eat people. There are a lot of evil people in the world, and a lot of them don’t like me.”

“Really?” he asked, brightening.

“Really. You’d be amazed.”

“Terrible monsters? Demonic creatures?”

“Oh, yes. I had to kill one on the doorstep of the city not too long ago.” I made a face. “Huge, worm-like thing—like death coming for you with big, nasty, pointy teeth.”

“And such things are not uncommon?”

“Well, they do show up surprisingly often. They have to be summoned, though. I can’t promise that someone will send more, but it seems likely.”

“Then, by your leave, I should like to remain for a time.”

“Stay as long as you like,” I suggested. “Talk to Sir Kelvin; he might even have some suggestions on how to help out around here while you’re waiting for a chance to smite evil. He’s both honorable and clever. He would be a Hero if he didn’t have a steady job. I think you’ll like him.”

“I’ll do that, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Now, I’ve got to get my act together if I’m going to get Tianna back to Mochara by noon.”

“Noon?” he repeated, brows drawing together. “That’s impossible.”

“Have you
met
my horse? Formally, I mean?”

“How can one formally meet a horse?” he asked, puzzled.

“Come with me.”

We went over to Bronze’s stable—an inside room attached to the throne room. Unlike with most horses, an interior stable was practical; the place was unlikely to need mucking out.

When Sedrick was formally introduced to Bronze she was very polite, even curling one foreleg back and bowing to him. He wasn’t about to be outdone; he bowed in return.

“How smart is your horse, Your Majesty?” he asked me, quietly.

“Smarter than most people,” I replied. “At least, she has more sense. I listen to her more than I listen to any other advisor.”

Sedrick eyed her with some interest. She ignored this and went back to crunching something in her feed trough. I took a look and saw the mountain had started oozing coal up through a crack in the bottom of the trough, just like down by the forges. Mental note: tell the mountain how pleased I am with it.

After the introductions, I left Sedrick to his own devices and went to put on armor. I wasn’t feeling terribly paranoid, but I planned to be out all day and night. Then I went fetch Tianna. Once she got changed into her own clothes again, we rode Bronze down the mountain in a zig-zag pattern. I thought it wasn’t quite so ziggy or zaggy; the mountain was already working on the Kingsway. Another few days, maybe a week of accelerated continental drift among the buildings…