Meeting Tolly

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Closest image Bing came up with to what I was thinking, despite the floating briefcase. Most gave Tolly a full beard, made him too young or too old, or made him a giant, ghost, or zombie. The office isn’t as ornate as I’d like, but oh well.

I heard someone clear his throat beside me, and jumped and spun. All I could see was a wall of blue. I gave a little cry, and took two steps back, bumping into the shelves behind me. Then I instantly was ashamed. I had known he was coming, I should have been more aware, listening for the door.

Mr. McLichtensen also took half a step back, and gave a low chuckle. The wall of blue resolved itself into a blue shirt, with white buttons. I looked up, and up, and saw his face, pale, freckled, pleasantly plain, below a shock of orange wavy hair.

"I apologize, Ms. Hoi," he said. "I tend to forget my impact on new people." He smiled down at me. "Especially small women like yourself."

The apology sounded sincere, but not deep. He continued to sound amused.

I tried to cover my confusion in a deep formal bow, one leg stretched out behind me, with my arms curled gracefully in front. "I am so sorry, Mr. McLichtensen. I did not expect you to appear so suddenly." I used sincere tone 7, suitable for apologies.

He gave a quick surprised half-bob at my bow, more of a nod than an actual bow. "What have you got to apologize for?" he asked gruffly. Then his face darkened. "Don't apologize for having a normal human reaction, Ms. Hoi." He took a couple deep breaths, then added more mildly. "Not to me, not to anyone."

I had overshot the mark. I should have half-laughed myself, perhaps shakily, and said that he'd startled me. I bowed again to allow myself time to think.

Change the subject.

"Did your children make these?" I asked, indicating the shelves of childish curios. "They are obviously treasures."

He laughed, and drew back a bit, and my mind cleared slightly. "I'm afraid not," he said. "I've never been blessed with children. Most of those are from Jasin and Belinda's girls. Others are from town children. Nearly everyone in town has adopted me as an uncle." He looked over the shelves fondly. "Every few years, I clear things out and start over. It's probably about time to do that again. Belinda's girls are starting to get too old to make things for me like this." There was a touch of sadness in his voice.

Of course. Jasin and Belinda's daughters. They'd been mentioned in the files, but only in passing. It'd probably be good to avoid getting too close to them. I did not want to betray children. I looked up at this man, and realized that I didn't want to betray him either.

I gave a small, impatient shake of my head. I didn't have a choice.

"So, you like children, then?" I said with smile 27, friendly, confiding.

"They have their moments," he said, and came closer to look at things again. I was afraid for a moment that he'd spot my bug, but then I reminded myself that it was on the underside of the shelf, he wouldn't be able to see it unless he stooped down to my level.

I again felt queasy as he stepped nearer to me, and took half a step back. His words had been gruff, but his tone had been tender. Once again, I thought, I do not want to betray this man.

No choice. No choice. I looked up at him, and he smiled down at me appreciatively. I reached a decision. I would not bed him. That might make the betrayal lighter.

"Mr. McLichtensen?" I said, trying to cover my shaking feeling. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"You may ask," he said, suddenly wary. "I have no guarantee that I'll answer it."

"I was wondering. Tolliver. That's a Nortorish name . . ."

"And yet here I am, looking as stereotypically Telish as one could be, red hair and all," he finished for me, with a great big booming laugh. "I'm afraid, Ms. Hoi, that is exactly what I am. Not a drop of Nortorish blood in me. The name just sounded exotic."

I noticed that he never said who thought the name was exotic. "Perhaps not entirely stereotypical Tel," I said cautiously.

He laughed again. "Larger-than-life, then," he said. "I apologize for my tardiness, Ms. Hoi. I had unexpected business to the north of town, and had to drive up there suddenly." His face flashed grim for a brief moment, so fast I wasn't sure I saw it. "It took me a bit longer than I expected. I had hoped to be here to meet you when you arrived."

"Did it turn out well?" I asked, smiling, 30, at him.

The grim look flashed across his face again. "Not particularly," he said. "No one died, however. That's always a plus."

I smiled up him, uncertainly. Was he joking or not?

"And here I go frightening you," he said, almost gently, "when I meant to be welcoming. You'll have to forgive an old fellow like myself. I don't always know how to talk to pretty young things like yourself."

"You're not old," I said automatically, putting on smile 10, mostly friendly, but with a hint of invitation. I instantly switched back to smile 27.

The words had been automatic, but he didn't strike me as being old at all. From the files, and everything that was known about him, he had to be at least 50, but I would have put him as younger. Not much younger, perhaps, but by no means ancient.

He laughed again. "I'm older than I look, Ms. Hoi." He sat down at his desk, and waved me to sit at the opposite side of him.

I also laughed as I sat down. "Mr. McLichtensen, I've seen some desks set up to make a person look larger, more imposing. This is the first time I've seen one set up to make the person look smaller." I looked a little closer. "Over-sized pens and paper, even. Everything's set up to make you look just a little smaller."

"Now the pens are just practical," he said, picking one up and showing how it just fit his hand. He rifled through a drawer, and pulled out another one that just looked like a fragile toy in his hand. He handed it to me, and it was a normal-sized pen, perhaps a little on the large size. "See? I get tired of breaking them." He gave me an approving look. "Most people take much longer to figure that out."

"It must have cost a lot to set this up," I commented. It was fishing; was I being too obvious? This man was smarter than he had appeared in the files. I wondered if that were a bit of wishful thinking on the part of my bosses. Heretical thought. I banished it.

"Not as much as you might think, Ms. Hoi," he said. "I have a friend who delights in making things like this. A challenge. Though usually I have to argue him into it."

"There's something odd about the chair as well," I mused. Thinking aloud more than anything.

His face stilled, and I drew back. The last thing I wanted to do was offend this man. "Mr. McLichtensen?"

He shook his head, as if to clear it. "You'll figure it out soon enough," he said, ruefully. "It's hardly a secret that I've got a bad leg. Old war injury. I sometimes have difficulty getting up from being seated. The chair is set up that I can rest on it, take some weight off, without being completely seated." He smiled wryly. "That same friend keeps making them for me, says he's 'improved' them. I can't stop him. I've tried." He shook his head.

"But--" I began, then abruptly stopped myself. I had seen records of him going back thirty years, when his name first appeared in town. Everything indicated that he had already had the bad leg, and, as far as anyone could tell, he hadn't left town for any extended period since. But there had been no war at that time. Not thirty years ago, not for the previous fifteen or so years. What war could it have been? None of my business. He could be lying to me. He could have been involved in some war that Tel was not involved in. "That must be tiring," I concluded lamely. How could I have forgotten that I wasn't supposed to know that much about him?

"You have no idea," he said. He pulled some papers out of a drawer, and laid them on his desk. "Now, Ms. Hoi, we should probably get down to business." He looked over the papers carefully. "My friend Petron Simon spoke highly of your work, as did several other art collectors I know."

I suddenly found myself blushing. What was wrong with me? I knew that they were only thinking highly of me because they hadn't known the full extent of my work. Or else they would be cursing. But perhaps the blush could be passed off as false modesty.

He glanced up at me. "Now, just to make sure that we are still in agreement. You are to catalogue, photograph, record and computerize my, that is, the restaurant's artwork collection. We're estimating that this will take about three months to complete."

I nodded. "You, that is, the restaurant, must have quite an extensive collection, Mr. McLichtensen. I don't think I've spent more than six weeks cataloging a private collection before." And the extra time would be a luxury that I would try to take full advantage of.

He glanced at me. "It is. You may even need more time."

I frowned. "Where do you hold it? There doesn't seem to be enough room in this building."

He grinned boyishly at me. "You'll see. I think you'll be pleased." He hesitated a moment. "Or claustrophobic."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

Mr. McLichtensen turned back to his papers. "While you're here, you'll have room and board, access to a laundry, and other amenities. I'll pay you when you're finished," and he named quite a substantial figure.

I nodded. "Yes, that's what we agreed to." I would never see any of that money, of course. My bosses would see to that.

"If you need any money before then, let me know. I'll see what I can do" He smiled down at me warmly. "I expect you will be pleased with your quarters," he said. "The rooms are quite comfortable, and well decorated. And the food is excellent. Even if I do say so myself."

"I'm sure I will be fine," I said, smiling. Anything would be better than what I usually had. "I am eager to see your collection."

"Well, I've, that is, the restaurant, and before that, the pub it replaced, have been collecting artwork for about six hundred years, best as I can tell. We've amassed quite a bit in that period. Even considering how much we've sold off from time to time." He added thoughtfully, "In fact, it's probably about time for another cull. That's one of the reasons we hired you. I'd like to have an accurate picture of what we have before I decide what we're going to sell off."

I managed to keep from wincing at the word "cull.” It wouldn't have as strong a meaning to him as it did to me, of course.

He gave me a quick glance. "Ms. Hoi, how about I show you around after lunch? I'll let you get settled in your room, get used to the place, to the area. Then tomorrow you can start the real work."

I'd already started the real work, though he didn't know it. "That sounds well, Mr. McLichtensen."

We both rose, and walked around the edge of the desk. I put out my hand, and he took it, totally encompassing my small hand in his larger one.

As I looked up at him, attempting to give smile 32, friendly, but with a hint, just a hint of invitation to it, I found myself wobbling. I took a couple of deep breaths, but my vision kept narrowing, to his face, to his bright blue eyes, looking at me with confidently, and then with concern.

"Ms. Hoi?" he said, then alarmed. "Ms. Hoi!"

Everything went dark, and vanished with a roaring sound.

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