“Can I keep this? I mean, just until I read it, I'll return it, of course.” He asked so eagerly he realized it must be rude, because Holly got a very strained look on her face then. He tried to school his own and not seem over enthused. It really would be a help though. A huge help, if half the things in it were correct.
Holly nodded and told him that would be fine. It was an heirloom, so she wanted it back at some point, but… Tor promised instantly, not making her finish the statement. That she'd even let him look at it was an honor, if it was something that had been in her family for a long time. Trying to remember the protocol for such things, Tor stood and bowed to her, which got her to rise and bow low as well, matching him, tears in her eyes. Everyone else just looked uncomfortable.
Except Kevin the butler who beamed at him and bowed too.
Dinner was to be in two hours, at nine, and they were going out to eat at a local restaurant, one Holly assured them wasn't really nice enough for royalty, which meant that the people were honest and kind, instead of just servile. Varley laughed at that and said it sounded wonderful.
The only problem was that Holly really didn't have his stuff. Not at her house. She'd sent it all off to her military's main training base, some fifty miles away.
Of course, Tor thought, that just figured didn't it? It even made sense, because it was harder to take back nine or ten thousand scattered amulets than ten boxes of them. So as far as that went Tor was still in the same place as before. He didn't even have his own toothbrush, or any way to buy a new one.
Maybe he could trade some of his gadgets for one in town? This was really starting to wear on him he realized. He felt exhausted from it and more than a bit put upon. Things weren't important, but they could be handy and it felt like a little more could be done to make him comfortable too.
Tor didn't let it show. Smiling he asked if what he was wearing would be suitable for this place, trying to act casual about it. He'd only ever been in one restaurant, and that hadn't gone well, so he didn't hold out high hopes for this one, but he didn't want to push the people there into attacking him either.
True, it would probably just be with words and hostile glances, not fists, but still…
Also he needed to find out who was paying for it. Was he supposed to cover himself? That would be interesting to say the least. Maybe they'd let him wash dishes or do the baking to cover it? Better, maybe they needed a magical device or two? He didn't think he was supposed to cover everyone, not really, but some of the people were with him, right?
Yes, technically, Varley was in charge, being the highest ranked person there, but that didn't seem right either. Everyone else retired to various rooms to change clothing, so Tor just sat and read from the book in front of him.
To his surprise, it actually covered this very situation in decent depth, right there in chapter three.
The person inviting another was stating, by making the invitation, that they were paying for it. The “gratuity”, something Tor had only a vague concept of, was to be covered by the person (or in this case, persons) invited. Right. Well, having no money was a problem then. Would it be all right for him to leave an amulet as a gift? What would a server at a restaurant like? And did he need something for everyone that worked there? The person cooking the food of course, but there was always kitchen help and people needed to clean, right? Tor just didn't know. Well, he'd do what he could and hope it wasn't insulting. Maybe they'd cut him slack if they realized how lacking in information he was? If need be he could throw himself down and grovel. It wouldn't be fun, but the book did say it was always a good fall back, if you messed up too much.
Now all Tor needed was something to work on physically. Obviously he had nothing.
Kevin, it turned out, saved him, by asking if he could work in glass. It wasn't a problem at all, glass held fields pretty well really, if the builder or copier was good enough to use it, so he actually had something by the time they all left, just taking off on foot.
Thank goodness, because after everything he would have probably tried to refuse if they'd wanted to stick him in a carriage behind a team of four or something. Horses were fine, but carriages didn't get along with him too well, making him feel trapped and sick as they bounced along. Horrible. As was the rule when walking with royals, Tor, considerably shorter, had to almost run to keep up, but managed all right for all that. He'd had practice after all, years of it. Chasing Rolph around at school, along with his daily runs.
The restaurant was interesting enough inside, simple decor that reminded him a lot more of Tom Smith's house than the palace or even his place. His old place, he corrected, trying not to let every thought show on his face.
Tom was the mayor of Two Bends, the little farming community not needing anything with a fancier title than that. Even that was mainly just to let Tom feel good about doing a bunch of extra work for free. Judging disputes over chickens and organizing road repair, that kind of thing.
The wood inside looked like the kind found on the beach, drift wood. It was smooth and weathered, the color bleached to gray almost. In front of the tables there were odd benches, each big enough for two people. Tor hadn't gotten to any protocol about who sat where, but Holly fixed that by waving him in next to her. He slide into place carefully, which he could manage easily not being as overgrown as the others, who had to fight to negotiate things correctly. David and Petra nearly fell over backwards, because Petra moved to scoot them in while David apparently decided to move back for some reason. No one laughed, but helpful suggestions were called out. Things like “work together” and “just sit down already” came from nearby patrons, all of them sounding well meaning. Apparently this had happened before.
Often.
The food was strange, ocean fish, clams and mussels. Things Tor had never eaten before and really didn't like now that he had. At first he thought it was a joke, when giant insects where brought out on a large steaming platter for each of them, but looking around he saw that people at other tables were in fact digging in. Well, this was their place. If giant insects were dinner here, then that's what they'd eat. Trying to not look too much like a bumpkin, he covertly watched what Holly did and copied her. It seemed safest, this being her choice of eating establishments after all.
There were bibs to protect their clothing and everything.
Was that normal for fine dining?
It kind of made sense, only wealthy people would ever eat at such places and they had nice clothing to protect. He tied one into place quickly, because the thought of ruining the silk shirt he had on kind of terrified him. It belonged to a Princess after all and he didn't have the funds right now to replace it.
They didn't speak of anything consequential during the meal, just bits of small talk, the weather in various places, if County Ford would have a drought again this year, which didn't seem likely, and bits of Printer city gossip, added by their server, Jasmin, each time she came to bring them things or check on them.
She was older, about forty or so, near Kolb's age probably, though she looked older than he did. The more royal blood you had the younger you looked for your age, in general. It was true, but the idea very nearly made him laugh out loud. By that standard he'd have the most royal blood of anyone at the table. At eighteen he looked barely fourteen at the best of times.
Jasmin had a kind face that wasn't, and probably never had been, pretty. Too long for that, but she had smile lines instead of a perpetual frown and a happy enough lilt to her voice.
“Ooh. Here’s one for you then ma'am,” Jasmin addressed Holly directly. Half her age, but still the Countess Printer, due to a horrible hunting accident three years before. Oddly enough it was the same one in which Tovey's dad had died. They were chasing a deer up a loose hill and it collapsed on them, burying them alive. A horrible way to go, being buried alive. Tor had been close enough to it himself once to kind of sympathize.