The Dark Half of the Sun (The Young Ancients: Timon) (2 page)

It really wasn't fair, but it was probably for the best anyway. As Countess Thorgood had mentioned to him when she'd last come to visit his brother Todd, Sara was clearly, and truly, in love with Tor. If he hadn't married Ali when he did they might have even gotten married already. She'd asked him at one point, and it was only the fact that Prince Alphonse had gotten in the way of it, hiding the letter for weeks, that had prevented it from happening. That was before Timon had even met any of them too, so he could hardly blame Tor for stealing his girlfriend.

No, Tim definitely wanted to steal
his
. That would be fair enough, since his brother had so many of them. It was hard to beat love though, so trying probably wasn't really worth it.

Looking down Tim blinked, realizing that Wildlands was different than the last time he'd seen it. Before it had been a large walled compound, at least as big as Two Bends, made of black focus stone with hints of red to it that shone in the sun like a jewel. It was still made of the same thing, but it was... Vast now. It was a true city. How that had happened he didn't know at all.

On a whim he landed in the front, the military guards staring at him as he tapped the side of his craft, making it vanish. He'd landed close enough for them to see him, but far enough away that no one would end up under him. There was traffic after all. Mainly military men escorting groups of children, both boys and girls, all marching like little soldiers, though they wore plain tan clothing that sort of looked like a brown school uniform, but lighter.

The guard on the right glared at him for a few seconds. It wasn't anyone that Timon recognized, but that didn't mean much. He was military, so would follow military rules. It made him predictable.

"State your business... If it pleases you, sir." The man was dressed in black, as was his companion, and they were tall, but not royal giants. Probably merchant class, or at least having ancestors from that group. Taller than anyone in Two Bends by eight to ten inches, but not big enough to claim a title, unless they really had one, that was. Then they could legally claim away.

Like him. He was dressed in black too, but it looked like velvet, not like their uniforms. It was magical clothing and could look like anything, but this was what he wanted the pilots' uniforms to be like, so he was trying it out. His new outfit had to be sharp after all.

"Timon Baker, Countier seven, Lairdgren. I own the new fast transportation service and happened to be flying over and noticed a new city that I swear was just a military compound not two months ago. Is it still called Wildlands Station?" He started with a question, since once people started talking they were a lot less likely to make problems for you.

"Yeah," this came from the younger man, who looked to be about eighteen or so, standing on the left. "Master Tor opened it up for orphans, so they can learn to use compressors to make things from focus stone. Most of the building projects are done by the older kids right now. Each one is supposed to get their own rig after they finish training. It's a sweet deal for 'em. Except for the part about their being alone in the world I mean. It's a good work. Heard his missus come up with it. The wizard is paying the bills though, so we call it his, out of respect." The man didn't seem all that easy, talking to Timon, looking at him nearly as hard as the groups of passing children were.

"I see. Well, can just anyone come in, or do I need an appointment? Part of my job is taking news around after all, and people in the Capital might just want to hear about this. Besides that, I'm curious to see what's changed." He waited, not knowing how military the whole thing was at all. If it was considered real training, he might just be asked to leave. He decided not to stay too long anyway. After all, he had things to get to and while the people here were fine, they probably didn't need his kind of people moving service. A lot of the slow transports still worked from here after all. Or had, he didn't see anything taking off or leaving at the moment. That didn't mean much really, since they could very well all be out working.

The man on the right shrugged and waved him in.

"No trouble, please. We run an orderly place here and don't want it to be messed up. So, no gambling, or hiring girls off the street, you want that kind of thing, or drink, go to the houses in the back set up for it." That part sounded rote and a little harsh. The man that said it blanched a little after a long pause. "I mean, uh,
sir
." That part came out a little bit late, but Timon didn't let it bother him. He didn't want people thinking he was annoying or anything.

"Sounds fine. Is Godfrey still in charge here? Major Godfrey?" It was name dropping but his knowing that seemed to work well enough to get the men to stiffen up a bit more.

"Yes, sir. Along the back wall to the left. No flying inside the city walls please and while use of Tor shoes is allowed, please don't travel faster than a quick trot."

Tim nodded and didn't bother digging the correct amulets out, but did tap the amulet that would make his luggage follow him. He'd reworked them a bit, so they'd look like finely polished black wood with silver fittings. They got attention, floating along behind him, but the guards only looked a little, clearly having seen the trick before. They were on his list of things to learn to copy if he could, however, since Tor had never bothered to make enough of them for sale. They were kind of like the flying carriages, but less complex. Not the Fast Carriages, but the older ones that could only fly a few hundred miles per hour. They were good for getting around the city, floating low and moving slowly. His Fast Carriage could do that too, so it wouldn't be a big problem when he had to pick people up in various towns and cities. Right now he just walked, taking the chance to stretch his legs and examine things.

The whole place was orderly, but a little light on fun. None of the children played at all, or raced along the streets. They all worked at something, even the babies that were being watched by older girls were working on something or other. Picking up bits of trash or planting flowers with exaggerated care. The whole thing almost felt more like a prison than anything else. Hopefully his school wouldn't be like that when he got there. True the kids in tan were poor and didn't have resources, but this couldn't have been what his brother, or his wife, had in mind when they started things.

Timon didn't see much else happening in the place for a long time, until he happened on a soldier scolding a boy of about fifteen for not taking proper care of his clothing. The overall statements were correct, the boy was a mess, his knees dirty, his face showing a small bruise under the left eye and dirt in his hair, as well as on all his clothing. His face was hard under the grime and from the look of his clenched fist the soldier was about to find himself in a fight if he didn't back off a little.

He walked over, looking up at both of the others, though the dirty kid a lot less than the military man and cleared his throat. Then he pointed.

"Excuse me... This man has clearly been fighting, and if you look at his right wrist and hand, someone appears to have taken his compressor rig by force, look at the marks. Probably to sell. That about right?" Timon held up his hand rudely when the military guy tried to speak, as if he had a right to do things like that. It wouldn't work for long, but the young man nodded.

"Yah. Took it right offer me. There'as three dem, big, miliboys. Black shirts. I can't say nor, or they'll have me kilt. I not have the rig-set by meal and I get the boot. Not the first this happened to. Nor on, I be the last." He looked down then, not throwing a punch, but not relaxing his hand either. His blond hair was too long to be fashionable, or much too short, depending on what he was going for. Then that, how he looked, probably wasn't a huge issue here.

The military guy rolled his eyes and grunted, a disgusted sound.

"They
all
say that. We get two or three of them a week selling off their equipment, then claiming some soldier took it when they get caught. Nothing to do but process them out. Too stupid to see that this chance is the best thing to ever happen to them and that going it a little hard and strict now will pay off later. Come on boy." He tried to grab the tan clad kid by the upper arm, but he took a step back, clearly afraid. "I said come on. If I have to take you to the duty officer with two broken legs I will."

Timon tilted his head and finally shook it, not wanting any part of the whole thing. He was about to walk away when he saw the terrified look on the boy's face. It was a lot more scared looking than what should have happened, even if he was being kicked out on his rear.

"Wait." His voice sounded resigned, even to his own ear. Like a spoiled little noble about to demand his own way, even if it was out of place. Since that was about right he decided to run with it. "Let's take him to Major Godfrey first. There may be something to his claims and if not I'll make sure the Major only yells at me. Let's go. Back this way?" He patted the boy on the back to get him moving, the soldier walking behind them, looking baffled about what was happening.

"Stop... I really don't think we should bother the Major with something like this."

Timon shrugged.

"It's theft. The property belongs to my brother and this man is either a thief or a crime victim. Either way that makes it my business, and the Major's too. Let's go." His voice was too high pitched and young to be intimidating, but he didn't get any more arguments, nor did anyone try to attack him. When he got to the door of the command hut, which he knew was the right place, since it said so in big letters above the door in stenciled white paint, he pounded on the door. No one came for a while, but there was a rustling of papers inside. After another bout of pounding the thing slid open to show a tall red headed man with at least three days of beard growth, holding a bunch of papers. He looked grumpy.

Major Godfrey, the base commander.

He smelled a bit of liquor and like he needed a bath. Pretty badly too. When he spoke it was clear that the man was more than a little in his cups. That wasn't Timon's business, though drinking on the job wasn't allowed in the military as far as he knew. Most employers frowned on it in general, so that made sense.

"Godfrey? Good to see you. Having a bit of a day?" It was pretty obvious from the way he stood, glaring at them all, as if he wanted to beat them for daring to knock.

"Who the hell are you and why are you bothering me? Yes, I'm having 'a day'. Since these orphans have come we've lost fifteen
thousand
gold worth of equipment. Some of it military, belonging to the King and kingdom. If I can't find it, or at least figure out who's taking it, then I'm not just out of a job, I'll be lucky to get life in prison. So, yes, just a bit of a freaking '
day
'." The words were growled for the first half, but went almost to normal for the second, giving off a defeated feeling.

Tim gave a low whistle, a single tone that got everyone's attention.

"Alright, bit of a problem. We have a victim of robbery here for you then. He claims that three military men roughed him up and yanked the compressor from his hand. Use one of the Truth amulets on him and we'll at least know a lot more than we did." Tim looked at the Major hard, wondering if the man was stupid or hiding something, not having just truth tested the last victims. With the new devices investigations had become a lot easier than they used to be.

"This one will talk? None of the others would, I was told. All of them chose to leave instead, which is their right, as long as they don't actually have anything of ours on them. One of the rules. They aren't forced to be here. It's a choice."

The next problem was, even though it was a handy thing to have around, no one there had a Truth amulet. Timon didn't either, but he knew someone that probably would.

"I'll go and get one then. Can I get special permission to take off with a Fast Craft from outside? It will save a lot of time. It could still be a few hours, if not longer. Especially if I have to try and get the amulet from the King. You know how picky the Royal Guard can be about that kind of thing." He was joking, but the Major nodded, as if it was a thing that Tim had the power to actually do.

"That's the truth, there. I could maybe get a gate guard to talk to me, but I doubt they'd let me in. I... haven't exactly been reporting all of the theft, trying to figure out who was doing it first. Still probably lose the command, but maybe I can avoid being drummed out. I'd appreciate the help, if you can do it?"

Timon shrugged.

"I can't promise anything except that I'll try, and come back as soon as possible." He didn't wait to be released, not being in the military, or under arrest, just walking to the door and wondering why he was wasting time on something like this.

Other than it being the right thing to do of course. That part was important, but if he didn't get more gold in the next week than most people made in ten or fifteen years, he wasn't going to school at all. Not that year at least. True, he could try again the next year, but it would make him look bad if he had to crawl home to his parents, having failed.

He had the craft ready, and got his gear stowed away again as fast as he could. There was no way to know how long it would all take, or what he might actually manage, so he flew straight up and then due south as fast as the craft would go with him at the controls, which meant he was over the Capital in a few minutes. Slowing, he looked toward the river, wondering if Tor's old house would still be there, or if Alyssa had moved to the Lairdgren place already.