“Petra! Are you all right, is everyone well?” His voice sounded scared and a little girlish, but they were all friends. They wouldn't mock him for it. Not too much at least.
“Tor love! You're up. Good. Bonita said you'd eaten and talked to her earlier, but she's not too sure if you're in your right mind yet. Everyone is fine, a few burns, a couple even major ones, but the healing devices did the trick, and everyone is fixed already. Most of the wall around the King’s palace is gone, but we have crews rebuilding right now. The shield seems fine. It held perfectly of course. Do you need anything?” Her voice was kind and warm, Burks smiled.
The older man, who looked maybe thirty, if that, and was actually over three thousand, or so Tor had been told by the King, and no one had denied that it was simple truth, walked to him directly. The hand that came out wasn't there to shake, it touched his head in an annoying and invasive fashion, resting over his eyes, fingers wrapping the top of his head. Eyes closed, Burks looked at Petra and nodded. Or he would have been looking, it was a weird way to do things, but what could they say? When a person got to be an elder, over eighty in most places, they were to be revered, even if they were doing bothersome or annoying things.
Burks Lairdgren, his grandfather, had lapped eighty so many times it probably seemed like a joke to him if he bothered to think about it at all.
“His field pattern is badly degraded. Too much building with too little rest for far too long, I'd guess, then he ripped his field nearly into pieces using direct effect to create a blast that should have taken days to build for even the best, months more likely. He needs to rest and recover. I'm not really sure why he isn't dead to tell the truth.” The old man looked at him and nodded.
“Not trying to talk past you Tor, but Miss Ward here needs to know what to do with you. Right now that pretty much means anything but building or magic of any other sort. You know what it means to degrade your field! You should have been checking for it. Did you really think you could shape the world using your own information and never pay the price? The way you've been doing it?”
The man continued on for a long while, as Tor and Petra stood there. The meaning was clear, if Tor had to do something like that again soon, build a super-weapon out of thin air, it would kill him.
“Which would be annoying, and make your mother cry, so, how about you skip that one? Rest for a while and don't do anything too big.”
Looking at him Tor tilted his head.
“Um, how long?” He asked, wondering if he'd be able to get back to work in the next few weeks, when vacation was over.
“About twenty or thirty years.” The Ancient said firmly.
Chapter four
That hit hard.
Well, what could he do? Die or switch careers? The answer he wanted to give was simple, the most likely one a lot harder. If he switched jobs, the sensible course, he'd eventually get caught in a situation like the day before and end up killing himself, wouldn't he? Maybe it would be better to just save up now and go out doing something that might actually help people? He nodded gently his eyes going a bit dim. It was what he'd made his life, it was why people even thought he was a person really, instead of just a stereotype backwoods bumpkin.
“So no building at all then? For the rest of my life?” The words came out sounding sad and weak. A little helpless. Lost. So, the way he felt really.
That worked for him then.
Burks looked at him strangely, his body being held oddly still, “you can build. But no direct effect work for at least three months, and absolutely no massive things like you did today, for at least several decades. Impressive, but also unneeded and ultimately foolish. There were a hundred other ways for you to handle the situation, more than that probably. There always are. Magic is just one tool Tor. You have a good brain and aren't any more responsible for the world than the next man your age. No less either, but don't take on too much for yourself. It can lead to bad things and an early grave.”
Tor wanted to go all “young buck” on the man and shout at him about how he didn't know what Tor felt or thought, or understand what it meant to be young anymore, but just couldn't come up with the will for it. After all “don't use yourself to death” sounded pretty reasonable to him really. The only problem was that Tor really did feel like he was responsible. For almost everyone and everything. That he had to help, no matter what. Didn't everyone?
Burks guided him back to his bedroom and shut the door on Petra, who'd been trying to follow them in, being part of the original conversation and all. It was a little rude, but what could he do about it? The man was old.
Sizing up the room, the vast window, the bed that would comfortably fit a dozen people and the writing desk in mahogany in the corner with matching chair Burks sighed. Grabbing the seat and settling in he waited. No gesture saying Tor should sit or indication he should do anything. Tor got on the bed and sat with his legs crossed. It was the position he took when he worked and one of the most comfortable for him, even if it generally wasn't considered polite in company.
Finally the man spoke, his voice bland and almost flat.
“I should have come and spoken with you openly about what's going on. It wasn't an attempt to hide information from you, just collect the needed data and analyze your genetic structure first, to see what would be needed. My people grabbed a sample after you were poisoned, I think your mother mentioned that to you? What we found was… given everything, about what I expected. One small surprise, but for the most part you're genetically me.” Burks gave him a wry grin.
“I know, how freaky is that?”
Tor raised his eyebrows at him and gave him a wry look back. If he was supposed to get the joke, then he'd missed something. Rather than ask a bunch of questions Tor nodded and just let words flow out, not knowing where they came from. That deep part of him that had been doing most of his work lately? Could be. All he knew was that he sounded far smarter than he felt at the moment.
“That makes sense. The field pattern that created the ancients has to be strong, doesn't it? It doesn't breed too often, almost never, but when it does it probably dominates, as far as traits go. It would have to in order to work at all, wouldn't it?” It did kind of make sense once he said it.
Burks smiled, a small thing that looked pleased rather than skeptical.
“Right! Genes, genetics, all that, it's a complete science, a field of study, but that is, essentially, what happens. A beings field pattern is what makes DNA, which if you ever get bored you should take a few years to learn about. I know you feel busy and rushed right now, but in fifty, maybe a hundred years you're going to start searching for things to keep you busy. Here's a hint right off the top that I had to spend centuries learning. Do stuff. Focus on the details and investigate to the very bottom of things. Then find the next thing to do. Strive to go beyond “good enough”, or you'll get so bored you'll probably kill yourself. I've seen it happen with some of the others, even though genetically it's almost impossible for one of us to suicide. Not out of grief or despair at least. Not the ones that have lasted this long. But it's happened anyway.”
Do things? It… made sense. Isn't that what he tried to do already? Keep busy, help people…
Burks shook his head, even though Tor hadn't said anything.
“Tor… as I said, in most ways we're essentially the same person. I know what you're probably thinking, and you're wrong. It's… part of you… of me, on the most fundamental level to try and help people, an essential part of our being if you will, designed to get us to serve and protect others. To feel unease when people waste things, and to forgive even the most egregious of wounds and attacks. That’s fine for the most part. You want to watch out for those situations where, even though it makes you feel horrible, you can't forgive people that will come after you over and over again, or those so truly insane they can't help themselves. That last is the biggest problem you know. People that don't know they're insane… It's not their fault, so how can you punish them by taking their life? But it will happen that you have to, even though it aches inside. You can't kill without a cost. Others can, but not you.”