The “palace” was a large house, but boxy and plain compared to the lavish houses and estates he was used to seeing. The outside was a soft gray stone looking material and the inside was white as chalk and had bright red flooring. They'd tried to decorate, but it seemed like they'd either failed or the taste of the Austrans was far different than what he was used to. Subdued and colorless except the red of the floor. A whole lot of beige.
He was taken to see the premier almost the second they got in the door, Daria running like a small girl, her voice happy.
“Daddy, daddy! Tor's here to marry me! Can you believe he actually came? He hasn't even tried to kill me yet. That means he likes me, doesn't it? He's so dreamy.” Giggling, she spun in her bland light tan suit, made of something light like cotton, it was baggy but had some give to it.
Just like her personality. Each time she turned around she affected a different “crazy” personality. After a while Tor simply sensed her field, looking for the signs of madness. What he found instead was a calm mind that had good focus. She wasn't insane at all, she was faking it to throw him off. Turning to face her slightly Tor waited and watched. So this was a trick? Well, the least he could do was act like he was going along with it.
“Hello! Sorry for just popping in like this, but the relatives kicked me out. I tried to send my grandpa instead, since this is all his fault, but your ship’s Captain was too clever for that. Nice to meet you in person.” Tor held out his hand country fashion an arm stretched back towards him. Surprisingly the man took it in a firm, but polite grasp and shook properly, without the hesitation Tor was used to from royals back home.
“Oh, so good to meet you too. Tell me Mr. Baker, do you like chickens? I have one. I call her bossy. Horrible nag. Oooh, I was going to offer to introduce her, but I forgot I had her killed last week, never listened to a word I said. Don't you hate that?” He grinned, his eyes nearly blank as he spoke.
This was an act too.
Dressed in his military clown outfit, bright blue and red piping all around, with its bright gold buttons that, close up, were scratched, showing steel underneath and looking shabbier than in the pictures of him that had appeared from Burks’ special communication device in the palace meeting room nearly three months before. It was a put up to make Tor think he was insane.
What the man himself didn't really get was that it wasn't an act.
Sure, he wasn't going to suddenly wet himself and caper like a jester, not for real, but his mind wasn't balanced at all. In his world everything revolved around him, his wants, his needs. When that didn't happen Glost got angry, and when he did, he removed his enemies with force. Always. But he thought that was sane and his current behavior was just a ruse for the Noram bumpkin. A man so stupid he didn't even know magic wasn't real, that all he'd done was technology and luck. Happenstance being fit into a shape his feeble mind could cope with.
Tor could work with that.
“Hey, I don't want to be rude, but you know, the magic has to be fed, would it be possible to get something to eat soon? If not I can wait, but I've only eaten ship food for a while… Oh! I know, why don't we have my brother join us!” Tor smiled happily and explained that he meant the Brown man. Glost didn't think much of the idea, but Daria liked it.
“He's pretty, get these two together and we could make such a delicious sandwich.” Tor didn't get the reference, but the woman jiggled from foot to foot, shifting as she explained. “You on the outside, me in the middle, him on the other side. Or, well, we could put you in the middle. All you Noram nobles like kinky stuff right? I could just eat you up. Possibly cut into steaks.” She acted like she was considering it, but really didn't care at all. Honestly, when he got what she was thinking and feeling, she wasn't even amused by what she was saying, it was just to help solidify her act. It felt almost dismal really. Everything she did was meant to keep her father happy. Even killing Yardley had been. Though he couldn’t pick up why the girl had to die at all.
The only thing he did get was that it wasn’t over Ali.
Tor nodded.
“I'd be too stringy and small for a good meal. Maybe if we had that chicken instead?” Tor had to pretend his goal wasn't Brown. If they thought he had a plan, they might not let him see the Ancient at all. Ideally he could eat dinner down in his cell or close by, even if they locked him up if they failed to take his amulets, he could to it, maybe without any of the devices he'd brought if they gave him enough time. A day or two? Rebuilding would be a pain, but Tor had come ready for it, if that's what was required.
The Premier clapped and pretended to be giddy at the idea of eating the chicken, but couldn't think of an excuse to not have one on hand, that made him a little angry, but Tor derailed it with a shrug and a hint, letting Serge out of the whole thing without getting mad. It wouldn't help to have a homicidal freak losing his cool. Not yet at least.
“Unless she was breakfast of course. Totally understandable. In that case we should take Denno a pie. People like pie, right? Tell, me, is… Is he… scary in person?” The idea was ridiculous, but he was the pretend magic Noram bumpkin, wasn't he? Denno was one of the most beautiful people in the world, if he held true to what his image when shown in lifelike realism for Tor and the royal family. Scary just wasn't the word that Tor would have used for the man. Delicate might fit, but so far none of the old Ancients seemed weak at all, even if smaller than a lot of people. Efficient came to mind when he looked at them. Tidy and easy to keep fed.
Tor made himself seem worried though, not really certain why at first, but the fields felt right for it. After about five minutes of talking, it became apparent why, since Glost started insisting that he have dinner with Denno that very night. From the words Tor figured he was about to be locked in with the fellow, or maybe attacked, the edgy stress of the brightly clothed man growing as they talked. He didn't want Tor to meet with Brown, who was a prisoner, which made sense on so many levels, but on the other hand Tor’s discomfort at the idea acted like a goad, pushing the man into the idea.
Daria sneered and pushed him too, working in perfect time with her father. Tor got it now, or at least a small part of it. She wasn't insane, or even spoiled and self entitled, not really. She was a survivor. Daria Serge didn't want to die. In this case that meant not going against her father, no matter how foolish he was being.
Right. Lessons from those that had been there. Trying to play with this man would backfire if he tried to do it for too long. Especially if he said no to something.
“All… right, sir…” Tor said, trying to sound reluctant now that both of them were pushing for it.
“You know best. Oh… Um, here… I have something for you.” It was a letter from Afrak he was supposed to hand over to Glost Serge. From Lara Gray herself. Tor didn't know why, but kind of figured it would be a problem, possibly an assassination attempt. The man took it, but didn't open it or even act interested.
Before Tor could play it up or even try to think of doing something more, Glost called for a full meal, chicken, though not, he assured Tor “Bossy the chicken”, to be served in Browns cell. No hesitation about calling it a cell, but on the word both the others suddenly went on alert and stared at him as if expecting a violent outburst.