The Monk's Habit (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 2) Page 14

  After taking a big mouthful of food, Paki said, “You do now. I’m not so sure a week’s rest will be enough.”

  Some kind of breakdown, Pol thought. He’d heard about such things, but never thought anything like that could happen to him. He filled his spoon with stew and ate it, deep in thought. “We need to talk more often,” Pol said. “I felt myself withdrawing.”

  Paki nodded grinning. “You did. I tried to talk to you, but towards the end, you just ignored me. I won’t let that happen again.”

  “Don’t,” Pol said, shocked and ashamed at the same time. Despite his physical issues, Pol thought he was pretty infallible. Not all-knowing, but what he did know he felt he mastered. He remembered what Jonness had said in the Abbot’s office, Arrogance makes a man blind. It made a fifteen-year-old boy blind, too.

  ~

  The next morning Pol looked down at his herb garden. Some of the seeds had sprouted. He poked his finger in the moist soil. Someone had taken care of his planter box.

  “I kept them going for you,” Kell said, sitting down on his haunches next to Pol.

  “Thank you. And thank you for noticing my condition. I wasn’t really there for the last while, was I?”

  Kell shook his head. “You are my first successful diagnosis. I had an uncle that came back from a border skirmish who turned out like you. His best friend had died at his side, and he never talked about it. He ended up killing himself. I remember that he had the same lost look on his face.”

  Pol looked at the shoots, not even remembering what he had planted. “I could have done that.”

  Kell clapped his hand on Pol’s back. “But you didn’t. Let that be a lesson to you, one that my uncle never learned.” He got to his feet and went to his own plot.

  Pol blinked back tears. Perhaps Kell was a friend, after all.

  ~

  Vactor welcomed Pol back to his classes.

  “I’m glad you are back,” he said. “You’ve gotten little accomplished since the Coram incident.”

  “Maybe we could talk about what happened between Coram and me?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  Pol nodded. “I want to know what he did and what I might have done better.” He took a deep breath. “I think I ran away in my mind for awhile.”

  “That’s a good term for what you might have done. Such things happen to us all in one degree or another,” Vactor said. “You said he was in the process of setting up some kind of a shield?”

  Pol nodded. “It shifted the path of my knife.”

  “Ironic. So, he basically killed himself?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Pol said. “What was the shield, thickened air?”

  Vactor smiled. “You are back. That might be one explanation. There are other tweaks that an experienced magician might employ. Sometimes a shield can be crafted to repel metal. That works for arrows and knives, but swords carry too much force. That’s probably what his shield did. Your magically enhanced knife throw penetrated, but it was thrown off by Coram’s defense. Thickened air would have slowed it down, or it might have even stuck in the shield.”

  “How can I learn to do such things?”

  “You’ll need to get stronger.” Vactor raised his hand. “Everyone tells me that you are getting stronger from where you were before. But you fainted right after you tweaked the wind and added force to the knife—”

  “Before I fell off Demeron.”

  Vactor nodded. “Your strength still remains something that might eventually hold you back.”

  Pol had to agree. “I know that I’m still limited.”

  “Give it some time, Pol. You’re still a boy, only fifteen. Most magicians haven’t felt a breath of talent at your age.”

  Pol had to restrain his comments. He recognized what he was about to say as arrogance and he wanted to avoid blindness as much as he could, so he changed the subject to something that he had wondered about.

  “Why aren’t their female magicians?”

  Vactor blinked. “What brought that on? Who said there aren’t?”

  “The Emperor only tested males when he passed through North Salvan on his Processional.”

  “Oh, that. The Emperor looks for magicians as a lever of power. More male magicians means more pattern-masters, which means better Imperial forces. The Emperor and his predecessors all believed in having a more effective fighting force than the subject kingdoms and dukedoms to maintain their power.”

  “And women don’t make better fighters?”

  “Not with swords and pikes. They are simply smaller and less dense than men. We have nunneries for women, who generally gravitate to the healing arts or use their power for other things.”

  Pol didn’t know if he believed that, and it must have shown to Vactor.

  “The Emperor does have a school for women magicians in Yastan. Its focus is quite different from a nunnery. Women who can reach Level Four are taught additional arts.”

  “Like Seeking?”

  Vactor nodded. “Most of the Emperor’s scouts are female.”

  Pol wondered, not for the first time, if his mother had had any power. If Queen Molissa had, she hid it very well.

  “Coram might have used a magnetic shield. Rather than hardened air, it relies on shifting the pattern of magnetism. You know what a magnet is?”

  “Of course I do. I’ve studied basic navigation. Magnetism gives a ship direction.”

  “An indication of direction,” Vactor said. “There are traces of magnetism all around us. That is the pattern. The tweak is drawing magnetism around you as a cloak. That is the shield for knives and arrows.”

  “Is it one-sided?”

  “What?” Vactor said.

  “King Colvin’s father died because the Court Magician at the time set a shield facing one direction, and the enemy flanked the position.”

  “Oh. He might not have created a cloak, but a shield-shape. It depends on how you visualize your tweak,” Vactor said. “What could penetrate a magnetic shield?”

  Pol considered the question. “An arrow without a metal arrowhead? A glass knife?”

  “Right and anything with sufficient force. I would guess that Coram used a magnetic shield, and your knife powered its way through, like a sword would. The deflection was a natural outcome of the formation of Coram’s shield. Remember, every shield has a weakness. We can study shields after the next break.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~

  THE BEST DEFENSE AGAINST RETURNING TO THE MELANCHOLIA that had afflicted him was focusing on his work. The herbs grew, and after they sprouted their second sets of leaves, the monks were able to help Pol identify what he had planted.

  He had to laugh at his selection of herbs. Kell had moved his own planter box over next to his, and they worked on learning the herbs together.

  As the monks taught them about the efficacy of various herbs, Pol wondered about Searl. One day they were drawing various plants for an herbal portfolio. He took a healer aside and asked him.

  “Oh, you heard about Searl? A tragedy. He became addicted to minweed after a severe shoulder sprain. You should never try to treat yourself unless there is no one else to do it. Even Searl couldn’t use his magic to take away the pain. It became so bad that the Abbot had to dismiss him. A few other monks occasionally get a short message from him. Searl probably wants to let people know that he is still alive.”

  “Could you let me know who they are?”

  The monk nodded. “I’ll ask them.”

  “What exactly is minweed?”

  “Oh, it looks like mint, but the leaves are blue-green. Pounded and mixed with water, it doesn’t take pain away as much as masks it in a dreamlike hallucination. It can be very addicting to some. It was to Searl.”

  It sounded like the opposite of melancholia, Pol thought. “Let me know. I might want to write to him.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a heart condition, and I’ve been told that S
earl might be the only one who can fix it.”

  The monk nodded his head. “So that is why you looked undersized for fifteen. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Pol went back to drawing herbs and frowned. Pol looked at Kell’s work and decided that Pol would never be able to make a living as an artist. After a while a familiar healer monk tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come with me.”

  Pol put his work on the table upside down and followed the monk to a small office.

  “You asked about Searl?”

  Pol nodded. “From what I can tell he’s the only healer capable of fixing my heart. You’ve given me treatments before, haven’t you?”

  “It’s time for another one, actually,” the monk said. “Why don’t you try to find him during the harvest break? In fact, I would imagine that the Abbot might give you the summer to find Searl. He refuses to see any of us, but a young man in need might be more persuasive.” The monk’s face turned into a frown before he recovered his smile.

  “Why don’t you just write him?”

  The monk pulled a ragged piece of folded paper and handed it over to Pol. “Read.”

  Pol looked at the scribbles. He could hardly discern any of the words. “He wrote this under the influence of minweed?”

  “No. He wrote this when he wasn’t hallucinating. His mental state must be deteriorating, and we would like him brought back to us to see if he’s worth saving. He was a great teacher until he wrecked his shoulder and became an addict. Minweed isn’t the worse addictive substance known to man, but it can still become a nasty habit that is reluctant to let go.”

  “If he wants help,” Pol said. His hope of a quick recovery might not be so simple as locating Searl. Pol shrugged off negative feelings. He vowed he would not sink into melancholia again. “I will find him, if I can take some friends along.”

  “Speak to the Abbot. He’ll do what he can.” The monk stood up. “How about a treatment right now?”

  “Not yet, I have things to do. I’ll come back in a few days.”

  ~

  “So you’d like permission to find Searl this summer?” the Abbot said.

  Pol sat in the Abbot’s office. The last time, Hopken had tried to steal Demeron from him, and that still made Pol a bit uncomfortable.

  “I do. I will need some people to come with me. I was thinking of Paki and Darrol. It’s best not to traipse into unknown lands by myself.”

  “I agree. Maybe you can think of another traveler, but I will give you my permission and will even fund your trip. The healers tell me that Searl likely needs some help, and I would do nearly anything to get him back into Deftnis transferring his unique skills.”

  “What makes him so unique?”

  “He can reconstruct things rather than repair.” The Abbot shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t deal with him as intimately as others. You might want to prepare for your trip by doing a little Seeking work before you go.”

  Pol smiled, buoyed up by the Abbot’s encouragement. “I will. Thank you, Abbot. I’ll talk to Jonness to get some pointers on doing that.”

  The Abbot stood and offered his hand to Pol.

  “We were all worried about you for awhile,” the Abbot said. “You’re not the first to succumb to the pressures at Deftnis, nor will you be the last.”

  Pol grinned. “Thank you again.” He bowed and shook the Abbot’s hand and then left feeling better about everything.

  ~

  “Get a profile of your target,” Jonness said. “Learn what you can of him.”

  “You mean get as complete a pattern as possible, to increase my chances of locating him?”

  The master nodded. “You’ve done it before. We use the same techniques over and over again. It doesn’t get boring because everyone’s pattern is different. When were you planning to go?”

  “Summer. Is there a break of some kind?”

  Jonness nodded. “There is a change in instruction that starts the first Oneday after Summer and lasts until Harvest Break. If you want to find him quickly, the first Oneday of Summer would be best. Who is going with you?”

  “Paki, Darrol, and maybe someone else.”

  “I wish I could part with one of my assistants, but that’s not possible. One of them will be spending time in Mancus with his firstborn child, due about the same time. What about Kell? He’s smart enough to help and could use the experience.” Jonness chuckled. “Once Darrol knows about the trip, he will be thinking about it every waking hour.”

  “Kell. I hadn’t thought of him. My impressions of Kell have changed a bit. I’ll ask him.”

  Jonness nodded, and they continued to talk about possible monks that he knew were friendly with Searl before he left.

  ~

  Pol arranged to skip his herb class for the treatment the healer had offered at the infirmary. The day was bright and filled with promise. He lay down on an examination table after removing his robe.

  The Master Healer stood with the monk who knew Searl at his side. He started examining Pol’s limbs, gradually moving to his trunk. He had been through this a number of times and just relaxed.

  “What’s this?” the Master Healer said.

  Pol didn’t like the concerned tone of his voice.

  “Our work is breaking down,” the other monk said.

  “What’s wrong?” Pol said.

  “The strengthening that we did to your heart is showing signs of deterioration.”

  Pol made a fist and brought it up so he could see it. “I don’t feel weaker.” However, he remembered the utter exhaustion he had felt after fighting Coram.

  “You will after a while,” the Master Healer said. “I wouldn’t be too concerned at this point.”

  He sounded too worried to give Pol any comfort.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t wait for summer to find Searl.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t,” the Master Healer said.

  Pol jumped off the table. “I’ll talk to the Abbot.”

  The shock of reverting back to the puny, weak, body he had had before he arrived at Deftnis nearly sent Pol back into a fit of melancholia, but he had a plan. He would find Searl, and he would do what he could to purge the monk’s habit long enough to get healed.

  The Abbot was just walking out of the administration building, so Pol caught him by his sleeve.

  “Sir, my body is rejecting the monks’ treatments. I have to find Searl as quickly as I can,” Pol said.

  “Is that right?” The Abbot looked concerned. “Get your companions together and see me tomorrow morning when you are all ready.”

  Pol ran towards the armory. Paki was there with Darrol. He explained his situation, and they thought they could be ready to go by dawn.

  “Talk to anyone who knew Searl. We will need to find him,” Pol said.

  He walked back to the infirmary and found Kell. “I am leaving the monastery for awhile to find Searl, a master healer. Do you want to come with me? I don’t know how much of an adventure it will be, but I’m sure we will do some Seeking.”

  Kell looked as if he had just been released from jail. “Anything to get away from all of these herbs. Count me in,” Kell said.

  “What did you say?” one of the tutors said. “You are going to find Searl?”

  Pol nodded. “Do you know where he is?”

  “Not exactly, but I know where minweed grows best, and that’s on the north slope of the Wild Spines. I’d bet anything that Searl has a hut up there.”

  That was the best lead Pol could hope for. He knew where the Wild Spines were, but they stretched across The Dukedoms from east to west. “Do you have a map?”

  The monk shrugged. “Not really, but that should narrow his location down to the north dukedoms.”

  “It does, thank you.”

  “Get prepared,” Pol said. “I’m going to see Jonness.”

  Pol began to get a little winded from his running around on the monastery grounds, and that concerned him. He found Jonness reading letters
in his office.

  “Do you have any maps of the Wild Spines? A monk told me that minweed grows best on the northern side.”

  Jonness frowned and raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know that.”

  He rose and went to an open chest. Pol could see the tops of rolled up maps. Jonness pulls out two.

  “This is a good map of the major northern road of The Dukedoms.” He laid it out. There were cities, towns, and villages linked with lines, along with some topographical indications. “The Wild Spines go from here to here. It ends at the dukedom of Hardman and continues as another, lower range of hills splitting Listya and Daftine.” He used his finger to trace the extent of the mountain range. “It’s not easy going, and you’ll have to watch out for bandits and unfriendly villagers. Some of the inhabitants are pretty remote. I imagine Searl will be one of them, if he’s still alive.”

  “So the northern slope isn’t as rugged?” Pol said, looking at the drawn-in hills.

  “Not from this map, but this document might not be accurate.” Jonness unrolled the second map, a longer document than The Dukedom map. “This map is only of the Wild Spines. I can’t speak for its accuracy either, but it might be of some value. If you don’t mind, feel free to mark up this map if you find anything of interest or any glaring mistakes. I expect you to return it to me.”

  Jonness rolled both maps together, and then pulled out a thin leather sheet that became a map case when rolled around the outside. He put out his hand.

  “Good luck,” Jonness said. “I thought you were waiting for summer.”

  “My health isn’t responding to treatments, and I want to get better, quicker.”

  Jonness grunted. “That’s a different attitude than a while ago.”

  “We are leaving early tomorrow,” Pol said. “Thank you!”

  Pol began to assemble his few possessions. He took out his mother’s jewels and hid a few small pieces that had no sentimental value on him before he took the rest of the Listyan jewels to the Abbot’s office for safekeeping while he was gone. He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to one of the Abbot’s clerks.

  “This goes to Malden Gastoria if you don’t return?” the clerk said.