“No sir. Needs to be one of the royal family. Besides, you keep trying to kill Master Tor. I give him over to you and he ends up dead, how does that make me look? We wait.” They did, but Smythe went in to see if he could rouse anyone. It took a long time, but the gate guard didn't change, so there was no threat of a beating if he didn't leave at least. That had happened before. The night he'd met Debbie in fact.
Finally, about an hour later a sleepy looking Karina came out with two familiar girls in tow. Lilli, who still had one brown and one green eye, and the short busty girl. They were all identically dressed in slightly shining gold dresses and floated across the ground using Not-flyers. When they got closer they all looked tired, exhausted in fact. Once through the gate he realized that all the girls were more than slightly drunk.
Brilliant.
The way to safety for a royal was always dressing up in bright clothing and making a display of themselves while drunk.
Probably why so many of them did it.
He shook his head and led them in, walking in a plain gray workmen's outfit himself.
“Seriously Karina… You too Lilli and…” He flounder for a second, he knew who Yardley was, the dun colored girl that didn't have acne any more, unless it came back, but this one…
“Ali.” She said, mustering up a smile through force of will. She was still cute, even half drunk like this, Tor noticed. A little round of face, and light colored of hair, but not blond, an off brown, he thought. She looked sleepy, like a little kid for some reason.
“Right, Ali, when you're here, try to blend with the servants, will you? Stand out in town to catch attention as advertising, sure, because the Austrans won't think that I'd have the Princess out working like that, I don't think. But here, try not to make yourselves a target, OK? You'll make the Royal Guard pull half their hair out and then they'll be all lumpy and funny looking, instead of dapper and conscientious, you don't want that, do you? Of course not.” He kept walking while they failed to even chuckle at his words. Well, it was early. Plus, they probably wouldn't be feeling too well soon from the hangover. Tor decided to leave them that, just in case it helped to curb further drinking later. It was mean, but was it really a kindness to make things too easy on people?
If he always did that, how would anyone ever learn?
The girls just wondered off once inside, leaving him on his own. That was fine really. He’d need help, but it would probably work better if that aid was sober.
Tor started in the King’s open audience, where Rich tended to meet with people most of the time, at least from what Tor had heard. It took about a minute for Tor to get someone’s attention, waving his hands and calling out awkwardly, but he started explaining how the communications device worked and finally, five minutes later, a half dozen people were standing behind him, wanting him to explain again. Three Royal Guards, two servants he kind of recognized, including Quavel, the Queen’s main servant. Her butler? Something like that, and last was Squire Gemma, who got a hug from him. Their shields bumped, which made him grin and whisper “good girl” gently into her ear. It sounded like he was talking to a dog, which made him wince a little over her shoulder, but she seemed happy enough about it.
The sigils, all in glowing light in different colors, weren't sigils at all, but spelled out complete names. By tapping a plate to the main device it was activated. It was naturally an unassuming piece of tan focus stone, nearly a true square about the size of a block of ice, with lights shooting through it to indicate it was working and make it look more interesting, since he wanted to keep it in the audience chamber for safety and ease of access. That meant it needed to look special, he figured.
Once turned on, all you had to do was tap a name sigil and you'd talk with the corresponding device as if you were in the room with them. Simple. Each time a new plate was activated the name showed up on all the other plates. Yes, he could only fit about a hundred on each, but who'd need something like this? The second name on all the devices was his and would reach the plate he'd carry with him. Tor explained it all four times, how a bright blue light would glow, signaling someone wanted to talk to you, their name glowing blue as well, raising a little out of the surface of the hand piece or plate, so you'd know who. You tapped it to talk, then again to end the conversation. Simple once you saw it once or twice.
When Tor left the room and tapped the Capitals sigil, Gemma answered.
“Tor?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, but became happy enough when he responded.
All he had to do was activate a plate for each Count or Countess and a few other key people. The plates were meant to be mounted, on a table or wall, so had holes in them for that, accept his, which was smaller and meant to be carried in a little bag of shear material so the light would show through if anyone ever wanted to talk to him.
Then they just had to pass the devices out and explain them to people. That he'd leave to these people and specifically tasked to Gemma, who looked pleased but uneasy. Quavel and the other servant looked like they didn't approve, but the Royal Guards all did. One of them, an older man slapped her on the back, smiling when he hit shield.
“Good. You don't learn responsibility unless you have it. People forget that sometimes.” Then he nodded at Tor respectfully before asking Gemma what she wanted done with the plates.
Tor found Smythe at the mouth of the room looking pale and slightly shaken.
“I see you did it. I know I asked but… will they work at the distances needed?” The man didn't seem pleased really.
Well, Tor was skeptical too. It was a new device and that meant it had to be tested, they all did. He explained that they should work anywhere, as if in the same room. Maybe even off in different lands, if it came to it. Smythe just nodded grumpily as they walked slowly out to wait for the transport to come.
It flew in from the north, settling slowly as was protocol when coming in to the palace complex, so that the Royal Guard wouldn't freak out and slap the giant palace shields into place. They'd done it a few times Tor had heard from Rolph, at first just to test it and then any time someone came in too fast. That meant settling at more than about a hundred feet per minute, which almost didn't look like it was really moving at all and took about ten minutes as they stood waiting.
“They really are a bit off. A cream and gold wood coach with the royal seal on the side gets people’s attention, lets them know that the people inside mean business. This off black shine looks nice enough, I'm not belittling the effort or effect, but it… lacks presence. Well, no help for it now, is there? Orders are given, it is for us to but obey.” The old man spoke abstractly, almost as if ignoring that Tor was right there. He did that, talking about Tor as if he wasn't standing right next to him sometimes too. At least he didn't seem to do that with a anyone else, not that anyone had said.
Standing in silence for his part, Tor watched the craft settle, it was a steady movement, skilled and exacting. It was probably one of the new military pilots, Tor guessed, since they'd started making a point of training them at the flight school and Smythe was, by some mistake or capricious design, still the head of the military, attempted murderer or not.
Tor got the idea, he could investigate with impunity, because he could call in the whole King’s army to back up his word, but it didn't make him feel any better. He was almost tempted to just fly himself. It would be nearly as fast and more comfortable once he factored in the stony silences and the old Counselor acting like Tor had been the bad guy in all of what had happened.
Just before the craft settled, not ten feet from the ground, four black and purple clad Royal Guards came out, each carrying a modestly sized canvas bag with carry straps. Smythe had a single trunk and looked back at Tor's four cases with a smirk.