P. Power - Knight of the Realm

The quickest thing to do would be make up fields he already knew well, so that he could build up some stock. The stone was plain, but if he added glowing fields to them, that would dress them up some, right? He didn't even need to carve sigils that way, just make the marks he wanted glow on the surface of the stone. Duh. It was so obvious he kind of wondered why anyone ever did anything else. When he got to the door he left it open, his hands being full, even though the box wasn't that heavy, it was awkward for him to handle being large, so everyone followed him in.

Trice let her eyes go wide and went room to room with Varley. That took a while so Tor started sorting the rocks, some still wet, on the table in front of him. He made ten piles of twenty each, leaving him with seven stones in an odd pile.

The girls came out of the bathing chamber and sat at the table next to him, Holly standing near the kitchen wall the whole time, staring at him and barely blinking. Kolb actually putting his arm around her to… comfort her? Why did she need to be coddled? She held her left arm in her right and looked worried. Tor could kind of get that. His little glass pendant was still glowing a bright red. He felt more than a little pissed off at the moment. It wouldn't help anything, but he felt it nonetheless.

Her military might just be filled with morons, so that had to get to her, didn't it?

“Right. Not to be rude, but if everyone could leave and come back tomorrow… about mid-afternoon? Luncheon or later? I have some work to do.” He didn't say more, just collected up the first batch of stones, the odd group of seven, and moved to the back, towards the bed nearest the restroom door. It had a corner space and about five feet between it and the next bed. He sat and started working without waiting to see if anyone was actually leaving or not. It was just copy work after all. Tor wouldn't need anyone to feed him or do anything else either.

Hours passed and darkness fell. After the fifth batch Tor lay down and slept till morning. He used the restroom when he got up, which worked well, thankfully. He had to wash up in the ocean, but that worked for now, even if it did leave him smelling a bit like the sea and covered with salt. It made his skin pull a little as it dried, a funny feeling.

Somehow, rock beach or not, he also had bits of sand clinging to him when he moved, rubbing in places it ought not. While he was out he hooked the house up with water, which he had to direct using a single stone, aiming it like a force lance in reverse, because it was a special pump. It filtered the water though, so he could drink it, bath with it and use it for cooking directly. It formed a nearly invisible line in the air, about six inches across, from well away, about a half mile. That way the water should run all the time, tides or not.

Then he finished the next six batches of things before anyone even tried to visit, a long time before really, though Tor didn't have a clock yet. The rest of the early day he spent making stuff on the beach, using an incredibly strong compressor rig to fuse rocks into stone pots and pans, cups and some other things, boxes and whatnot. They were stone gray mainly, but without pores or air gaps, slightly slick and heavy looking.

Then he tried his hand at fishing in the ocean. That part… didn't work too well. In fact, filled with fish or not, he couldn't find anything. Not even giant bugs. Hunger and wearing the same clothes left him feeling a bit grumpy, and possibly a little surly, but then who didn't feel a bit out of sorts when they got hungry?

Well, the people in town might be willing to trade for some of the junk he'd made, right? That being was what it was for. He loaded up a little stone box, about the size of both his hands put together with fifty odd stones inside, and started walking. His first stop was the bakers, hoping the man would still want something and be willing to deal.

Tor felt hesitant, but the man beamed at him and started out by giving him a sweet roll, without even being asked anything. It was good, well made and sugary, better because he was hungry. They worked out a deal which heartened Tor a lot. For some temperature control units and lights that weren't red, as well as a water heater for his bath, the man opened up a line of credit, so that Tor could have whatever he wanted from his shop from then on. Providing it was open of course. Smiling Tor said he'd be back for a pie and some bread later. The man was happily playing with one of the lights and waved cheerily as Tor headed out.

The next shop Tor tried wasn't interested in what he had at all, or more likely, in him. The woman was older and seemed hostile from the beginning, her face hard and bitter, lips tight and angry lines, not even listening to what he was saying. She basically ordered him out, pointing at the door and looking ready to back it up with violence. Tor shrugged. It was too bad, because he could have used some of the clothes she had for sale. It was simple stuff, canvas clothes in a variety of colors, mainly gray and brown, but some brighter things too. At the next shop over, part of the same building in fact, a store that had simple metal goods, the man inside laughed as he explained what had happened with the lady merchant, and smiled.

“Well, you do look a bit disreputable, with the beard growth and all. Ethyl was robbed a year ago or so, thieves cleaned her out at knife point, weren't nothing she could do, so she's none too trusting of anyone now, especially if she don't know them. I may be willing to deal though, if what you have isn't garbage.” The man was polite enough, also older and, it turned out, both the local blacksmith and Ethyl's husband, Clark.

He was delighted by what Tor had, but didn't know if they could deal once he saw it.

“I'm afraid any one of those things is worth more than my entire inventory right now… Magic lights, in stone with a sigil that glows all the time so you can find it in the dark, and that even let you set how bright the light is? I could have merchants giving me their daughters for just one of those… But don't tell Ethyl I said that.” He winked wryly at his own joke.

In the end Tor made a strange bargain with the man. If he'd help him get some clothing, and other supplies, Tor would let him and his wife sell some things he made on consignment. It wasn't even a real trade for anything, just the right to try and carry the goods in their shop. They'd have to sell eventually of course, Tor knew, but if they didn't, he'd get the silver or gold for the useful things he got back to them. That wasn't part of the overt agreement, but it was what would happen.

No one helping him out would lose by it. Not if he could help it, not ever. They shook on the deal, leaving Tor feeling a lot better about the man suddenly. That he shook hands like a regular person, not going in for all the bowing and stuff of the nobles was heartening for some reason. It reminded him of home.

Ethyl stiffened when they both came back in a few minutes later, and she started to point at the door again, but her Clark smiled and told her to hush for a bit, explaining the arrangement. The woman finally looked at what he had in the box, a little skeptically, and lit up a little, her face going shrewd. Tor figured that if she wore one of the emotion tattling amulets she'd have just gone stark green. Well, she was a merchant and for them greed was probably a job requirement.

“Stone, and clear magic in the making. I've never even heard of a glowing sigil like this… The form looks a little like Tor's stuff. He's popular right now, so I can see why you picked it, how well do they work?” The old woman didn't wait for him to explain anything, just checking each one as he called out what they were. The water pump made a mess, from a bucket the woman brought out of the back, but the woman just laughed and clapped her hands when they got to the last one.