Sitting at the high table, Morry by my side, the musicians playing, I watched as happy, drunk people danced. Good for them. But I dreaded it. I couldn’t dance to their rhythms, couldn’t do their steps, and was worried I’d fire lasers through everyone, set the place on fire. Typical teenage awkwardness.
Honestly, I should never have been, I don’t know, reincarnated as a person with this kind of energy. Better, I’d been cented into a powerplant to boil water and power steam driven engines, all for the cheap cost of food and alcohol. Laser-electric Cayce, for the win.
Speaking of alcohol, I once again endeavored to drink too much and downed another glass of ad. “Morry, how long do we have to sit here?”
“You really should enjoy yourself. Dance with them.”
“You’re not dancing.”
“I’m better at killing people.”
“Honestly, big guy, too. I’ll tell you a secret.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve never killed so many people before. Than in the last few months, I an. Or, ever, really.” At least, as far as I could rember. Who knew? Maybe I was a tyrant back on my world. Or maybe I really was the princess and a terrible blow to the head massively altered my psyche. Probably not. Never heard of a case of brain damage that granted mories of another world’s history.
“In that case, allow to pour you another to celebrate you being here alive instead of them.”
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” I held my glass for him, tilted slightly, and he poured the liquid into it, right to the top. “Yeah, I get to drink ad and they no longer do. Serves them right.”
Four musicians played for us. Two were playing guitar-analogues, one of those small, like a violin but with six strings and no bow, perhaps more like a ukulele now that I was thinking about it, and the other larger and hitting the low notes. Not a cello, but sort of. Another musician played sothing like a flute, and the fourth played sothing that looked like a harp, except that it was horizontal and rectangular. He handled the percussion with it, sohow.
They were good, mainly playing tunes to dance to, so fairly fast paced, but they were only good. Not great, not virtuosos. Listening to them was making think. I’d heard the Vienna Orchestra – not in real life, mind you, but on YouTube and probably the music in so movies. The best of the best of highly trained musicians. People who could adjust their tuning on the fly because each and every one of them had perfect pitch, could learn entire concerts with only a week’s practice.
These guys were more like talented amateurs. The difference had to be education. I ca from a world with billions of people. Endless experience in all but the most esoteric specialties, universities to teach that expertise, rigorous training and high standards.
My world had failed musicians working at restaurants. And they’d have greater and broader musical experience than the quartet who graced my castle.
As they hit the high notes and slowed down, I took a sip, watching them and not the dancers. Smiling, enjoying themselves, nodding to each other. They probably trained via the apprentice system. Good in so ways, you get one on one teaching, but that limited the expertise you were exposed to.
And from what I could see, the entire kingdom had perhaps less than half a million people, which limited their range of talent. It was similar to the weapons technology that I was introducing, the dicine I’d administered myself here.
“Morry.”
“Yeah?”
“If we survive the sumr, I’m going to start a university. Bring experts in multiple fields to teach lots of students. The apprentice system, it’s holding back, well, everything.”
“A university?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to start a mages’ conclave at Breadamont?”
“What? No, I was thinking about a university for, uh, you know, the specializations. Like-”
“Specializations?”
“Yeah! History, smithing, dicine and music.”
“You don’t like the music tonight? I think these guys are pretty good.”
I glanced over at him, tapping on the table to the beat, “Sure. They’re good. Wonderful, even.” I shook my head. Another fight for another day. Anyways, I’d be queen then. Assuming we could hold the kingdom together, keep our necks on our heads and not get crucified. Then, yeah, paved roads, sewage systems, piped water, the possibilities were endless. How quickly could I undertake-
“My lady . . . it would be my pleasure if you would dance with .”
“Maitlan! Sorry, I was just lost in thought there.”
He took hold of my hand, pulling gently. “Co, Princess, it’s ti for a-”
“No thank you.”
He shook his head a little, not letting go of my hand, “But, you must dance. Everyone is waiting on you.”
Why, oh why, did I allow Brin to have this ball? Honestly, not my fault. This was their Christmas, sans the savior and presents, but also their New Years, party and all. Anthropologists would call this an end of winter feast or sothing. All cultures had them. Well, all cultures with seasons.
I watched other people dance for probably too long before answering. Other people’s happiness right there in front of . Squeezing the cup tightly, I pulled my hand out of his grasp.
“My lady?”
I took a sip, slowly, the music playing, eyes unfocused. Holding hands with him on towers, watching the sunset, letting him kiss my hand, sit close to , sharing wine from the sa cup. Now, possibly, dancing together. Imagining where he thought our relationship leading, my eyes squeezed shut involuntarily and body shuddered. I couldn’t, just couldn’t. Barely audible, these words escaped before I could stop them, “No, no thank you.”
Then, looking over at his eager face, louder and to him, “No.”
“. . . pardon ?”
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“I’m not dancing with you.”
“But it’s the winter ball and I thought – Cayce, co lift your spirits with .”
“Morry, scare the child away. Please.”
Morry looked at , probably sighed, stood up and Maitlan looked hurt, and I felt bad. He quickly turned and walked back past the dance floor, across it, and I stopped watching him.
“Honestly, Princess, you should dance.”
“Do you want to dance?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” I raised my empty cup, filled it, then emptied part of it into my body, setting the cup on the table. “ either.”
“You are the princess. And young. You should enjoy this ti.”
“If only you knew the half of it.”
“By all ans, tell the half I don’t know.”
“Well, I co from another worl-”
“Your Highness,” Gun suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pouncing as his rival failed, “If I may,” he bowed, holding his hand out, slight smile dancing on his red lips, “entreat you to join on the ballroom floor?”
“No, but lovely of you to ask.”
“Ah, you wouldn’t like to dance at this mont?”
“That’s correct. Thank you, Major Gun. If you’ll allow , I’m going to sit here, morose, moping mightily, and consider the future.”
He stared at for a bit, perhaps puzzled, and then stepped forward, “Are you embarrassed my lady? For last ti? I assure you, your, our dancing was superb, enjoyed by all, and I bear no ill will for the slight mishap that occurred.”
“I don’t want to dance. I won’t dance. Thank you.” I held out my hand, palm facing away from his body in case the energy appeared and I sent out an energy blast, which probably made look like I belonged in an asylum or on a royal parade, one of those monarchs who waves like a fish, “Please excuse us, General Morrentz and I are having a . . . heated conversation.”
He looked over to Morry, looked back to , probably stern faces all around, though I didn’t hold a candle to Morry’s grim features, no one did, and bowed, “My lady,” and left.
Oddly, I didn’t feel as bad, turning Gun down, as much as turning poor Maitlan down. Gun, I knew, could handle it. He was probably considering so other angle of approach. But Maitlan, well, I hoped another girl – god, any girl! – lit his fancy, and soon.
“Hey,” I said to the big man, “we need to get out of here. It’s only a matter of ti before Brin cos up, forcing to dance.”
“I was waiting for exactly that mont, indeed.”
“Morry, just bring the goddamn jug. Or, you know what, leave it.” I stood, put my hand out for him, and said, “Co with if you want to whiskey.”
“To whiskey?”
“You’re ruining it for ! Just co.”
***
The cellar, where the growing number of whiskey barrels were stored, was dark. There was no switch. I really, just really, needed to invent solar power, but that was a long ways off.
“Here, I think. Over this way. Can you hold that candle higher?”
“Are you sure you want to drink this stuff? I thought you hated it.”
“This is my stuff, not Bechalle’s awful crap. Co on. This one! This’ll do nicely.” I put my arm over the dark brown, wooden half barrel and lifted. Nope. “Uhm, it’s too heavy for . Can you?”
“Take the candle,” he passed it to , then picked up the barrel like it was a pillow.
***
“You have to be careful with this stuff! No, seriously!” I laughed as Morry poured himself another glass. It was nearly clear, but slightly yellow. Damn, maybe I had those guys, the servants or brew masters or whatever they were called, the guys who were making this after I’d trained them in the process, be too conservative with the hearts. How much ale we were tossing out to produce this batch?
“Princess,” he smiled, “I’ve never had anything like this. Harsh, yet subtle. Tastes like vanilla and oak and it’s slightly sweet.”
“Morry, really, I’m being serious now,” I burst out laughing, holding my stomach. “You have to go easy on this stuff! No, really,” I reached across to put my hand on his forearm, “it’s super, super, just really strong.”
He tossed it back anyways.
“God, man, I’ve never seen you this happy. Drunk, I an drunk. You’re so drunk!”
“I believe the word you’re looking for, Princess, is unrestrained.” He put his new glass on the table. “Where did this co from?”
“Wait, wait, I need to ask you sothing.”
He made an effort to sit straighter, smiled at his clumsy efforts, wiped his smile off, not quite appearing sober and attentive, “Yes?”
“You were practicing with the new lances, even when you don’t have the new saddles?”
“Oh,” he looked at his hand and empty mug, “I figured it was ti to train. Get your elite regint in order and all.”
“But how? Those lances are heavy!”
“Straps. Like your straps, the ones on the saddles. For the feet. I thought to myself, if you can invent straps to adjust the weight of a rider on a horse, I could do the sa for the weaponry.”
“Huh.”
“It goes over the shoulder, here,” he drew an angle across his chest like a seatbelt, “and under the arm, attaches on both shoulders, two straps on the weapon, makes it manageable.”
“But, what about when you hit the enemy? It’ll lodge in them. Or break. Lances break, you know.”
“Yes, these are first strike weapons. The attacker, excuse ,” he nodded at , “the knight must lift it off his shoulders,” he demonstrated that, “and pull out his greatsword or spear, whichever is appropriate and on hand at the ti.”
“Wow. You’ve really thought this through.”
“I drew inspiration from all your inventions, Princess.”
They weren’t my inventions and I suddenly felt guilty. “Ah, no, you did that. That’s all you.”
“Princess, don’t be so self-deprecating. You’re always doing that. Stop.” He poured my glass full, then his, “A toast to you. May you continue inventing new weapons to make the army stronger.”
I held up my glass, despite feeling empty inside, since I stole all these ideas, and toasted, sipping my whiskey, while the big man downed his in one go, then refilled.
“Morry . . .”
“Yes?”
“I have a confession to make.” Now, yes, now is a good ti. The perfect ti to tell him! I needed to tell soone.
“What’s that?” He poured himself a new one.
“Seriously, this stuff is really strong. Don’t drink it like water.”
“I’ll drink it any way I want to.”
My heart sunk. “Ok, go ahead.”
He did, he downed the cup.
“I’m trying to tell you sothing here. It’s important! I’m not from this . . .” His eyes were fluttering and he was trying his best to look at , but I knew from experience that this wasn’t a ti he was going to rember. “Morry . . . Jesus . . . damn.”
The door opened then, violently. “Cayce!” Brin nearly shouted, “Why are you here?” She looked at each of us, Morry moving his head almost digitally to look at her, drunk out of his tree. “Why are you two here? Always, you guys run from parties.”
“Brin, co on. You know . . . alright, fudge, ok, fudge, just . . .” I stood up to go talk to her alone, and as I did so, the world suddenly beca not just two different images, but four. Huh. The whiskey was seriously strong and actually working on .
“You are dead drunk, Cayce. And Morry! Look at him!”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around her neck, “he’s beyond drunk.”
“You drinking that new stuff?”
“Yeah, here.” I passed her my cup.
Brin took a test sip, made a face like she’d had vinegar, “Oh, gods, this hurts! What are you thinking?”
I put my hand on her shoulder, “I think, perhaps, probably the boys didn’t mix it with enough water. It’s supposed to be forty percent. That’s like three parts water to two parts, no, no, sorry, that’s wrong. It’s . . . oh, wait, that’s right! Forty percent.”
“Ok, alright, co with .” She pulled along the cold hallways and I watched the stones pass beside with each step, tapestries moving from our disturbance, and up the stairs, so many stairs that went on forever and ever and a day, perhaps longer, suddenly behind us and the door to my rooms in front. Our rooms, honestly, she lived in them too, but she took care of . Did that make her charge? I couldn’t quite work it out just then, but if I were her charge, were these her rooms?
“Brin, are these your rooms?”
“Yes, Cayce, my rooms. And in these rooms, you will do as I say.”
“Alright, sure. Yeah, this,” I touched the seat, “is where you dress .”
“Oh, gods, you had far too much. Why didn’t you stay at the party? There were so many suitors waiting to dance with you!”
“No there weren’t. Gun, Maitlan, that child . . .”
“More, Cayce! And, ok, sure, they aren’t suitors. Most of them have gone ho.”
“See!”
“Yeah.”
“Brin . . .”
“What?” She pulled off my dress.
“I’d have killed soone if I’d stayed. Seriously, watch.” I opened my right hand, fla appeared.
“Cayce!”
I closed it. “Yeah, I can’t control it.”
“You just did.”
“Only because I’m drunk and showing you.”
“Well, don’t do it again if you can’t control it. You’ll set the room on fire.”
“Exactly! That’s why I couldn’t be at the party. I’m too dangerous. I’d have killed the third person who danced with .”
“Why the third?”
“I dunno. I’m so sleepy now.”
“Let’s get you to bed, then.”
“After I, after I brush my teeth. Definitely don’t want cavities in this world. Brin,” I leaned in, “your dicine here sucks.”
“What are you going on about? My dicine?”
“Hey! What about Morry?”
“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
“The biggest. He’s so big.”
“Cayce,” she shook her head, took by the shoulders, pushing. “Ok, co on, over here now.”
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