Yay him.
Trice let him take two deep breaths before moving back in and kicking at his groin, which landed solidly enough to take him down. She looked at him strangely and backed up, as if expecting some kind of trick.
“The shield? Did it fail already?” She asked, concerned.
Kolb chuckled and walked over from where he'd been watching, some fifteen feet away.
“Oh, he doesn't have one. In fact, I don't think he's ever even used one before. That, I believe, was his first attempt at his latest project. I just assigned it to him an hour and a half ago, so I guess we can't expect any better yet. If that had been a military grade cutter instead of a student's practice lance you'd be dead right now Tor. Keep that in mind. You have two weeks to improve.”
Then, after about a whole minute to rest up from the blow to the groin, trying not to clutch himself and whimper the whole time, he had to face off with Sara. The girl didn't pull any kind of weapon, opting to kick his behind literally, or near enough, with a series of low kicks and a few elbows to the face. He ended up on his back after about thirty seconds, the girl mimicking a few kicks to his neck as he struggled to get up.
It was humiliating, but better than if she'd just gone ahead and delivered the kicks for real. After a few more seconds the weapons instructor decided that Tor was “dead” and had him work against Trice again. For the next two hours they took turns beating him. He didn't win at all, the best he managed was to get a few blows in every now and then.
“Alright Tor. Don't miss any more classes and have that shield ready on time. You can go for today.”
The girls smiled at him as he picked himself up. With a glance he realized how goofy he must seem to them, both had not only handed him a beating, but they'd done it without hardly being affected by him at all. He was covered in dust and mud from where the sweat had mixed with dirt. Well, he wasn't trying to impress these girls. They were way too scary for that. Who pulls a real knife in unarmed combat practice anyway? The answer that came to him was uncomfortable.
Who did that? A very deadly person. That's who.
Trice waved at him smiling happily, and reminded him of the deal that he had with Sara for those dryers. He waved back, trying not to seem like a poor loser. He hadn't made any deal at all with the girl though, had he? Then again, if it got past the instructors, it would be simple enough to make copies. He could do about ten in an hour or two. Most people couldn't, he knew. It was a complex magical set… but once made, it could be treated as a single thing instead of the dozen different parts he'd had to work with originally, and he'd built it as a template, so anyone with the skill could make copies from it, ideally. If she wanted to sell them and helped him get the metal and some acid to burn the sigils into place, he could do the work for her. If he lived through Kolb's little test at least.
That night he worked out what the rapid food drying setup would take. It wasn't nearly as hard as he thought it would be. He double, then triple checked the work. Tor could probably get it done on his next off day, if he skipped out on sleeping.
Then, out of a strange desire to not die, he started working on the shield. His experience earlier had been instructive about things he never would have even considered before. Like breathing. That dust had probably been designed to make it hard to breathe as well as blind him. Could he form some kind of breathing tube or filter to keep something like that out? Yes… It was particulate in nature, so he could just make sure that nothing less fluid than air could come through, no matter how small. Easy enough really.
As he sat at his desk he lost track of time again, working on a dozen different things at once, finding a way around problems as well as he could, when he could, and coming back over and over again to the things that just didn't have answers. How could he absorb the force of a sword blow? Or a cutter for that matter? Could he shunt the physical force into the ground? It should be possible to pass force along like that, but he couldn't think of any kind of magic that already did it. He'd have to figure it out on his own. That would take testing. Whee. Maybe he could get Rolph to help him?
When Rolph shook his shoulder he startled hard.
“What?” He yelled, jumping half out of his hard wooden chair, getting a laugh from the other boy.
“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you, it's just half an hour after your normal bed time and you were just sitting there, not moving. Thought you might have fallen into a trance like you do…”
Which Tor had, he nodded and started to straighten the papers and writing implements on the desk in front of him.
After that the giant boy started getting ready for bed, so Tor followed suit. Losing too much sleep wouldn't help, he'd need to be as sharp as possible from now until after he had the shield made. Besides, now that Tor thought about it, he was exhausted already. He'd been up for a long time, which probably explained it. His head hurt a little and he felt fuzzy mentally, so he probably needed to sleep more than it seemed.
Even though Rolph liked to complain about the beds every now and again, even going so far as to have a new mattress brought in, Tor didn't mind what the school provided. It was better than what he'd had at home and no one jabbed him with a bony elbow in the side while he rested. He fell asleep quickly, more than a little exhausted by the events of the day.
The next day was just as hard, if in a different way. After his morning classes a younger student found him in the dining room and told him that advisor Gear wanted to see him in his office after he'd eaten. The girl, who looked about fourteen, flipped her light blond hair at him after delivering the message, dismissing him without another thought. Fair enough. He didn't plan on thinking about her either. He had real things to worry about.
Like not dying.
When he got to Frank's office a strange man sat in front of the desk, his advisor behind it smiling up at him when he walked in.
“And here he is now. Torrence Baker, this is Merchant Donald Sorvee. His family runs a very large sales concern in Western Noram and he's asked to speak to you in regards to this novel device you've created.”
The man dressed all in a deep purple velvet that was so dark it could have passed for black in most light. Tor liked the color a lot. On his head sat a ridiculous, and probably expensive, floppy hat in bright red, with a single huge black feather sticking out of it. The black hair underneath it looked to be greasy at first, but then he realized it was just some kind of hair oil or slick, rather than a medical condition. There was something about the man that Tor just didn't like, even if he couldn't place his finger on it. Like he was evil… or dangerous.
The man spoke smoothly and quickly, as if trying to dazzle Tor with words. It might have
have worked if he didn't start out by offering to buy as many of the dryers as Tor could make for two golds each. He smiled at the man who sat next to him and shook his head.
“I'm sorry, but I already made arrangements with someone to handle sales, you'll have to go through her.” Sara seemed better equipped to handle a slick person like this than he was. Not a difficult task, since he'd only spoken to a half dozen merchants in his life and all those had been in their shops, mainly telling him that what they carried was too expensive for him. If nothing else she could probably knife the man and dump the body. Trice would help no doubt. “Her name's Sara, she's one of the special school students? I'm sure you could find her there now.”