The Monk's Habit (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 2) Read online

  Pol could only nod as he rushed to catch up to Jonness, who was already marching out of the armory.

  Back in the Seeker practice hall, students had already begun to settle for class. Kell and Paki looked back at Pol, standing next to Jonness. Darrol nodded to both of them and slipped to the back.

  Jonness waved to the assistant to get the class started and took Pol outside into the practice yard where they could talk by themselves.

  “How do you think you did?”

  “Badly,” Pol said. ‘Darrol didn’t directly answer my questions, so I had to come up with more direct ones. I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I thought that you didn’t want Master Edgebare or Darrol to know we were asking about the monastery thief.”

  Jonness looked out at the empty practice yard. “I didn’t tell Edgebare we were looking for the thief. Did you?”

  “No, sir.”

  Jonness shrugged. “You did fine for your first interrogation. Darrol has put in years as a guard and knew you were questioning him, so he played a bit of a game with you.”

  “I thought so.”

  “What is the other reason we shouldn’t be interrogating our friends?”

  “They don’t take you seriously?”

  “Right. Just like Darrol. You could have done worse, but you still verified what Edgebare told us. We’ll have Garryle take it from here. There is still a week or more before he’ll be heading back across to Mancus.”

  “We can’t arrest him now?”

  “We could, but I’ll still have all three of them monitored. It would be easier to catch the culprit in the act of thievery, wouldn’t it?”

  Pol couldn’t think why they wouldn’t rush to grab him, but he just nodded. “What did Darrol do wrong in Mancus?”

  “You ask him. Time for class.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~

  IT SEEMED THAT ALL THE CLASSES DECIDED TO HAVE TESTS during the same week. Pol was walking quickly through the rain to the library, carrying a bag filled with notes, when Paki ran up to him.

  “They caught the monastery thief.”

  “Crestglen?” Pol asked.

  “The pattern-master?” Paki said. “No. It’s an acolyte. The Mancus constables saw him at a dogfight and when confronted, he admitted that he had a gambling problem. He didn’t want his wife to know, so he funded his habit with the funds he stole. One of Jonness’s assistants caught him red-handed in a monk’s cell the night before his next boat ride to Mancus.”

  Pol stopped in the rain. “Really?”

  Paki nodded and then shrugged his shoulders with resignation. “I won’t get my South Salvan Lions back, but at least he won’t be stealing from other monks. I’ll see you in the library after I retrieve my own things.”

  Pol watched Paki rush across the wet pavement. So all the evidence didn’t point to Crestglen. Pol thought about the investigation as he continued to the library. Finding Coram to be a thief was easy, but Paki’s news shocked Pol. With the information he had, Pol was certain Crestglen was the thief. He wondered how Jonness would talk about the seeking in the morning to the class. Pol felt embarrassed about his own conclusions, but then as he reviewed what Jonness had told him that morning in the practice yard, the Master Seeker had still intended to follow all three suspects.

  Pol found a space at a table and set out his papers. While he waited for them to dry a bit, he sat back and thought. Should he be upset by Jonness questioning Edgebare and Darrol? But then he realized that Jonness probably regarded part of the investigation as a learning experience for him. He grabbed one of his blank sheets and began to write down a detailed description of the investigation, including Coram’s story. The experience had been filled with lessons about Seeking.

  He thought about Paki’s Lions and decided to give him his own. Pol didn’t need it, and it would still be a good reminder of Siggon, Paki’s father.

  ~

  “This is my personal report,” Pol said, handing the account of his recent experiences finding the thieves to Master Jonness.

  “I didn’t assign you to do this.” The Master Seeker quickly scanned the pages. “Good work, nevertheless. I’ll give this to my assistants to review, as well. We have to document our actions for the Abbot’s files anyway. There’s no sense letting this good work go for naught.”

  Pol bowed to Jonness and took his place among the gathering students. Darrol sauntered in and sat next to him on the floor, as usual.

  “I heard they caught the thief. Some married acolyte,” Darrol said. “I had hoped it wouldn’t have been Crestglen. I would be pressed into teaching his classes, and I don’t know very much about anticipation magic.”

  “Sorry,” Pol said.

  “What for?”

  “I didn’t mean to accuse your friend.”

  Darrol gave Pol a little shove. “First of all, he’s not my friend and second of all, you did a good job for your first time interviewing someone.”

  “You’re not offended?”

  Darrol shook his head. “Not at all. From my practical perspective, you’ve got to follow up on all your leads. Don’t worry about it.”

  Pol did worry about it. In his mind he had decided that Crestglen was the villain, and that incorrect assumption might have led to further mistakes on his part.

  Jonness called the class to order. “This morning we will talk about practical Seeking. As all of you know we have had a monastery thief in our midst for some time. Recently some extremely valuable possessions were stolen, so that increased the priority we placed on finding the criminal.” Jonness proceeded to go through much the same thing that Pol had written in his report, except for the ending.

  “So we ended up with two thieves. Our investigation led to an individual who, we thought, matched the pattern of the thief, but then as the investigation continued to a conclusion, new information was received. An individual’s pattern matched the circumstances better with the additional information.”

  Jonness let the students talk for a bit, and then he raised his hands for silence. “Pol Cissert accompanied us during the investigation, since he was one of the victims. What did you learn from the experience?”

  Pol stood up and twisted his fingers in his hands with embarrassment. “The biggest thing I learned is that sometimes it’s easy to find a solution. It was in finding Coram guilty, once we realized that his actions didn’t match the others. I thought it might be just as easy to find the monastery thief, but it wasn’t. I came to a hasty conclusion that was wrong. Seeking isn’t as easy as I thought, and there is more uncertainty, even if you think you’ve got someone who fits the pattern. Is that good enough?” Pol asked Jonness.

  “It is, if you think it is.”

  Pol nodded and sat down.

  “With this episode our class changes. We will be emphasizing scouting for the rest of the year and will leave Seeking behind us. Those of you that are here for Seeking only, please line up so we can help you find other courses. Seekers who want to learn more scouting techniques can leave for today and return with the rest of the scouting students tomorrow. There will be more advanced courses in Seeking next year.”

  Darrol stood up and stretched. “I guess I’m done here until next year. What about you, Pol?”

  “I’m going to talk to Jonness.”

  Paki came up to Pol. “I’ll be staying in the class. See you later.”

  Pol looked at the line of students already forming. He noticed that Kell was one of them. Pol couldn’t picture Kell as a scout, anyway. He would want to mix it up in battle, he thought.

  Pol sat back down. One of Jonness’s assistants joined him.

  “No scouting? You’d be a great one,” he said.

  Pol shook his head. “I learned a lot about scouting already this year, but I would rather learn more about Seeking. I can use the pattern practice.”

  “There are patterns in scouting.”

  Pol nodded. �
��There are, but…”

  “I know what you mean. I tried my hand at Scouting just before I decided to return to Deftnis to teach. You need to have a certain attitude to like it.”

  Pol thought of Kolli and compared her to Val. He thought that Val would chafe at following orders all the time. Kolli seemed to be able to operate independently and still observe the chain of command.

  He honestly didn’t know what his preference was, but it seemed that Seeking required more brainpower. Magic and brainpower were his strengths, not the physical demands that scouting required.

  “Can I help you decide what to do next?”

  “I’ll talk to Jonness.”

  “If you have any questions about scouting or Seeking along the way this year, don’t wait to ask.” The assistant clapped Pol on the shoulder and walked out of the practice hall.

  Pol didn’t know what to do, so he waited for the end of the line. He watched Kell go out, looking smug, as usual.

  After the last student left, Pol rose and stood in front of Jonness, who was seated at the table.

  “You don’t want to be a scout?” Jonness asked. “I didn’t think so.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “So other than the specialty of Emperor, what would you like to be? You are currently training to be a magician with Vactor, so what else?”

  “I don’t know,” Pol said.

  “The healers are about to start herbal remedies, now that winter is about over. I sent your friend Kell over there. It might be a good thing to learn. We don’t teach field medicine in the scouting program until the third year, so why don’t you join him?”

  Pol knew he didn’t care much for Kell, but healing would be a nice diversion from the rest of his current courses.

  ~

  The healing class wouldn’t start for another week, so Pol took advantage of the break and took Demeron out for extended trips on the backside of the island. He fixed the broken jumps that had been neglected for much of late winter as best he could, and took the opportunity to find out what Demeron knew and what he didn’t know.

  They spent most mornings riding, and then while Demeron ate the new grass that was beginning to grow, Pol became a teacher to a willing student.

  The interlude finally came to an end, and Pol walked into the infirmary for the beginning of his new morning class.

  A monk ushered him to a greenhouse in the back. Seven acolytes sat on stools, with Kell making them eight. Pol took a stool across from Kell, who acknowledged Pol’s presence with a grunt.

  “We are embarking on a new phase of your healing class. There are two newcomers with us,” a healer monk said. The man wore an orange cord. Pol looked around, and he was, again, the highest-ranked magician in the bunch, with most of the others sporting white or yellow-corded belts. To Pol’s surprise, Kell had changed his tan belt for a white cord. He didn’t think Kell had any talent.

  “There is no magic in what we will be learning the rest of this year. I hope there are a few of you that have some gardening experience. This is more of a gardening class than a healing one.”

  Pol saw a few disappointed faces, but with his time spent working in the Royal Gardens at Borstall with Paki and his father, Pol knew a bit about cultivating plants.

  Kell scowled as he walked out of the classroom. “I didn’t think I’d be getting my hands dirty,” he said.

  “I’ve gotten my hands dirty, and they seem to clean up just fine. Besides, we’ve already benefitted from dirty hands,” Pol said, showing Kell his hands. “Why are you taking this class anyway?”

  They both walked down the steps from the infirmary. Kell looked back at the black stone. “My mother was a healer.”

  “Was?” Pol said.

  Kell nodded. “She died a few years ago. We were caught in a storm between cities and had a carriage accident. No healers were available, so she died. You lost your mother, too, as I recall.”

  “I did. She had an excellent healer by her side, but the poison had acted quickly.”

  “Oh. The monk from Yastan didn’t say she was poisoned.”

  He had, but Pol didn’t think it was appropriate to dispute Kell’s memory.

  “So you are going to dabble in healing because of her?”

  Kell nodded. “I told my father that I would, if I can get through this course. I don’t have much magical talent, and I’m not excited about herbs, but…”

  Pol looked at Kell. He felt a bit bad about his mother dying. Pol could certainly empathize with him. “Look, I can help you get through this if you need to. A lot of healing has nothing to do with magic. In fact, there is a good healer that I know, a very powerful magician, who told me that most of what magicians and healers do has nothing to do with magic.”

  “So I can learn,” Kell said, almost to himself.

  “It always helps to know how to do things on your own. If you are out in the countryside, a good knowledge of what plants might help various ailments can’t do you any harm.”

  “I guess not,” Kell said. “I have to hurry to exercise my horse during lunch.” He ran off.

  Pol looked at him hustle towards the stables. Perhaps Kell might not be the jerk that Pol thought him to be.

  ~~~

  Chapter Fourteen

  ~

  GORM SHOOK POL AWAKE. “Jonness told me to wake you. Coram has escaped from his cell and is currently on his way to Mancus. Jonness said you might want to accompany him.”

  Pol blinked sleep away from his eyes. All of the other acolytes were fast asleep. He was tempted to wake Paki, but decided he would go on his own. He threw his clothes on and placed some knives in strategic places. Coram’s sword mastery might be significantly higher than what he demonstrated at the monastery. Jonness would bring others better than him.

  By the time he made it to the stables, five monks were mounted. Darrol, Jonness, the two assistants and a monk Pol didn’t really know.

  “This is Master Hopken, a pattern-master. Hurry and get Demeron.”

  Pol ran into the stable and found his horse already saddled. He climbed up on Demeron’s back and trotted out of the stable into the darkness of the yard. The party didn’t waste any time heading out the gate and clattered on the cobbles as they sped towards Port Deftnis.

  They galloped so fast that Pol didn’t have an opportunity to talk to anyone. They reached the dock and put their horses on the barge. There wasn’t much night wind, so four of the men joined two sailors in using sweeps to move the craft.

  I don’t like the water, Demeron said.

  “I don’t either,” Pol admitted. He sought out Jonness working a sweep. “Why did you bring me along?”

  Jonness grinned. “Don’t you want to catch him? I would, so you could use the experience.”

  Pol looked at the others in the group. “Is this part of Seeking?”

  The Master Seeker grunted. “It’s a less glamorous part, unless there is a chase, and this time, I think there might be. At least the South Salvan ship wasn’t hanging around when Coram broke the lock on his cell.”

  “Magic?”

  Jonness nodded and took a few deep breaths. Pol wished he could join them, but he would only last a few minutes exerting himself at the same level as the rest. With the light wind, the water wasn’t too bad for the horses and for Pol.

  He walked back to Darrol. “Why are you here?”

  “Volunteered. I heard them rousing Hopken, and since it was a South Salvan, I decided to join in. Jonness has taken a liking to you, lad. He thinks you’d make a great Seeker, so he’s giving you this opportunity, even though you’re not in his class any longer.”

  Pol could hear all the heavy breathing, so he decided he wouldn’t wear anyone else out by talking to the rowers as they worked. Hopken stood at the bow looking towards the lights of Mancus in the distance. He took a place at his side and noticed the black leather belt that Hopken wore.

  “I’m Pol Cissert.”

  Hopken snorted. “I know. You get around, don’t you?”

&
nbsp; What was that supposed to mean? Hopken looked at him sideways, and then turned back looking ahead.

  “I don’t know. I suppose.”

  “So we have the best swordsman in the monastery and the worse on the same boat,” Hopken said.

  “I’m not the worst. I can anticipate. I’m not a pattern-master, but I know how to discern the patterns.”

  That got a grunt from the unfriendly swordsman-monk.

  “I’m pretty good throwing knives.”

  “A coward’s talent…or an assassin’s.”

  Pol tried to keep from getting mad at a Deftnis Master. “Knives have saved my life. I don’t exactly have a long reach with a sword.”

  Hopken turned around and left Pol alone in the front of the barge without saying another word.

  I heard that, Demeron said.

  Pol looked around to find Demeron only a few paces away, tied up to a post in the front of the barge. “I didn’t notice you there. It is dark you know, and you are a dark-haired horse.”

  My natural camouflage.

  “Why do you think Hopken dislikes me?”

  I can read your mind, but not his. Maybe he doesn’t like boys. Demeron snorted and raised his head up and down. I don’t think he is an enemy.

  Pol and Demeron had talked about enemies and friends. Pol would have to trust Demeron’s instincts more than his own.

  The early morning began to wear on Pol, so he found a place to sit. The easy rolling of the boat put him to sleep.

  He woke with a sharp pain in his side. Pol looked up into Hopken’s face and then down at the pointed toe of his spurred boot. “Up, boy,” the swordsman said, with derision filling his voice.

  Pol rubbed his head, and then looked at Mancus rapidly get closer. They were nearly across the water. He stood next to Demeron, ready to lead him up to the dock, and then wait for the others.

  Garryle’s face was lit up by a magician’s light inside a cage atop a pole.

  “He had someone help him. The dockhand said two men got off the boat and headed to a stable to buy horses. I wasn’t fast enough to catch them from Port Deftnis.”

  “Tesnan spies,” Hopken said. He had reserved a more venomous voice for Coram. “Where did they head?”