Lord of the Sky (The Young Ancients: Timon) Read Online Free Page A
turned out, involved her going to the Palace, which meant Timon taking her, since they didn't want the whole thing to take forever. The King gave his word that she wouldn't be harmed or taken prisoner. For her part the woman just seemed resigned and went to change, coming back alone, instead of with the five guards that she was allowed by tradition.
She was wearing a simple white dress of flimsy material that was too cold for the day really, meaning that a long and heavy quilted jacket was needed to go over it. They flew from her home half an hour later, the woman silent for a long time.
"So... The King sends small boys at his enemies now? That doesn't really sound like him, to be truthful. He's normally more honorable than that." There was an abstract and quiet tone to her words, as if she were fighting to figure out what to say, rather than really trying to insult anyone.
Timon nearly snapped at her anyway, but held his tongue long enough to get control of himself. It was harder than it should have been, but the woman couldn't help it if she was too tall, could she?
"It wouldn't be fair to say that he sent me really. Not at all. This is about the best deal that you can expect for now, so you might want to practice being contrite, or at least faking it. Mean what you say and don't blow this. The Gray Plague kills and kills, so if you wait too long all of your people will choke to death on their own fluids. If you have to get on your knees and beg to save them, isn't that your sacred duty? You'll need to mean what you say too. Or at least not lie. Better to seem a little less than perfect and be seen to mean it than flowery and lying." It was about all the advice he had for her.
After all, it wasn't like he'd actually planned this all out or anything.
Really, it had, he realized in hindsight, probably given the lie to his claim of not trying to kill himself. Walking to the front door of an enemy and announcing yourself a spy was pretty much suicide, in most situations. It wasn't a good thing to realize about himself, but it rang of truth. Timon was so far gone he really didn't care if he lived or died anymore.
The woman shifted uneasily.
"I... don't do groveling well. It's not my way. For one thing, I don't think that I was wrong. Richard, the whole system that we have, is bad for Noram. There are people that are better suited to rule."
He nodded. That had to be what they were thinking, didn't it? That the other farmers would slaughter the pigs better, or have fatter cows, if only they were given a chance? There was no perfect rule. History had shown that a thousand times or more. In fact, the best people could manage was probably a polite indifference from their leaders that allowed them to function without interference too often.
Most of the time that wasn't what happened, was it? No, people tried to make things perfect for themselves, and in doing so made the world a worse place for everyone else. It was the human way.
"That isn't what you need to be thinking about right now. You need to go in, lay on your belly and beg for the King to forgive you. Beg for your people, and cry . Don't forget to do that. Don't hold to your dignity now. He promised not to harm you, but if you don't sell this, he can still refuse to aid your people. We don't want that. What we want is for him to realize that you're well and truly out of the game and that you're placing yourself under my protection."
The woman glared at him a bit and then shook her head firmly.
"The protection of a little boy?" She laid her right hand on the wall of the craft and glanced at it then refocused on him. "A magical boy, but still, it's my job to protect you isn't it? Or are you a man?"
That she might be a little confused was fair enough. Technically he was a child, but he acted older, and had his own home, a business and responsibilities. In two years, he'd be a man in truth, and while he looked younger than his years, it would be hard for a royal to
She was wearing a simple white dress of flimsy material that was too cold for the day really, meaning that a long and heavy quilted jacket was needed to go over it. They flew from her home half an hour later, the woman silent for a long time.
"So... The King sends small boys at his enemies now? That doesn't really sound like him, to be truthful. He's normally more honorable than that." There was an abstract and quiet tone to her words, as if she were fighting to figure out what to say, rather than really trying to insult anyone.
Timon nearly snapped at her anyway, but held his tongue long enough to get control of himself. It was harder than it should have been, but the woman couldn't help it if she was too tall, could she?
"It wouldn't be fair to say that he sent me really. Not at all. This is about the best deal that you can expect for now, so you might want to practice being contrite, or at least faking it. Mean what you say and don't blow this. The Gray Plague kills and kills, so if you wait too long all of your people will choke to death on their own fluids. If you have to get on your knees and beg to save them, isn't that your sacred duty? You'll need to mean what you say too. Or at least not lie. Better to seem a little less than perfect and be seen to mean it than flowery and lying." It was about all the advice he had for her.
After all, it wasn't like he'd actually planned this all out or anything.
Really, it had, he realized in hindsight, probably given the lie to his claim of not trying to kill himself. Walking to the front door of an enemy and announcing yourself a spy was pretty much suicide, in most situations. It wasn't a good thing to realize about himself, but it rang of truth. Timon was so far gone he really didn't care if he lived or died anymore.
The woman shifted uneasily.
"I... don't do groveling well. It's not my way. For one thing, I don't think that I was wrong. Richard, the whole system that we have, is bad for Noram. There are people that are better suited to rule."
He nodded. That had to be what they were thinking, didn't it? That the other farmers would slaughter the pigs better, or have fatter cows, if only they were given a chance? There was no perfect rule. History had shown that a thousand times or more. In fact, the best people could manage was probably a polite indifference from their leaders that allowed them to function without interference too often.
Most of the time that wasn't what happened, was it? No, people tried to make things perfect for themselves, and in doing so made the world a worse place for everyone else. It was the human way.
"That isn't what you need to be thinking about right now. You need to go in, lay on your belly and beg for the King to forgive you. Beg for your people, and cry . Don't forget to do that. Don't hold to your dignity now. He promised not to harm you, but if you don't sell this, he can still refuse to aid your people. We don't want that. What we want is for him to realize that you're well and truly out of the game and that you're placing yourself under my protection."
The woman glared at him a bit and then shook her head firmly.
"The protection of a little boy?" She laid her right hand on the wall of the craft and glanced at it then refocused on him. "A magical boy, but still, it's my job to protect you isn't it? Or are you a man?"
That she might be a little confused was fair enough. Technically he was a child, but he acted older, and had his own home, a business and responsibilities. In two years, he'd be a man in truth, and while he looked younger than his years, it would be hard for a royal to
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