The Monk's Habit (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 2) Page 16

  “We came across six bandits in the wood a few hours to the south. We brought their weapons and their horses.”

  The guard looked out the door. “Where are the criminals?”

  “They are dead.”

  The guard grunted and walked out to look at the horses. “The horses and saddles aren’t worth much. I guess you buried the bodies?”

  Darrol nodded. “I’ve never been along this road before, and we didn’t want to ride hours with dead bodies strapped to the saddles. Their weapons are tied to their—”

  “I can see. What do you want me to do? There’s not much to investigate.”

  “Just find a home for the animals.”

  The guard checked the horse’s mouths and hoofs. He grunted again. “They haven’t been mistreated. I’ll pay you ten Sand shillings for each.”

  Darrol pursed his lips. “A good horse and saddle would fetch a pound in the south.”

  “Is that where you’re from?”

  “Mancus,” Kell said.

  The guard looked at the four of them. “If you didn’t have the two boys, I’d guess you were Deftnis monks. Mancus, eh?” He patted Demeron on the rump. “This guy is worth all of your horses together.”

  “And then some,” Pol said. “He is a gift from a noble.”

  “A king, most likely.” The guard eyed Demeron again.

  “Five pounds, since up north we don’t value horses so dearly.”

  Darrol nodded. “Done. We’ll be on our way as soon as we pick up some supplies.”

  “Where are you headed? I am asking as a representative of the Duke.”

  “To the other side of the Wild Spines,” Pol said.

  Darrol cleared his throat. “We are on our way to Yastan.”

  The guard squinted his eyes. “Why are you headed to Yastan, lad?”

  “We are going to see my uncle.”

  “Name?”

  “Ranno Wissingbel. Heard of him?”

  The guard’s eyes widened. “The Emperor’s Instrument? I daresay I have,” the guard said. His attitude improved instantly. “You be on your way. I’ll be back out with your money.”

  The guard counted out the five gold pound coins to Darrol. “Watch out. If you think six bandits are bad, the Spine crawls with them. Be warned, My Duke doesn’t bother to exert his influence much past the foothills.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~

  MUCH RICHER, THE FOUR RIDERS SPENT THE NEXT NIGHT IN A VILLAGE a bit smaller than the town where they had sold the horses.

  Darrol came into Pol and Kell’s room with a sack of supplies. He pulled out a packet. “Hair dye. It’s generally for the ladies, but we need to darken your hair if we aren’t to be noticed all the way to Searl, wherever he is.”

  “What about Demeron?”

  Darrol shrugged. “A good magician can change a horse’s color but…”

  Pol didn’t want to try something like that on Demeron without practicing. He submitted to the instructions cribbed on to the packet by the salesperson. They ruined one of the inn’s towels, but Pol had to admit he looked different. He tried to arrange his hair in front of the tiny discolored mirror above the washbasin in the room, but it was so straight that it didn’t want to cooperate.

  The four of them walked into the common room of the inn. Paki kept giggling and poking at Pol. He ruffled Pol’s hair once. At least Pol didn’t share his room with Paki, who might be sniggering at him all night.

  The food was the best of the trip so far. Darrol brought out the map of the Wild Spines.

  “The foothills are here, and then we head into the Spines. There are villages along the way except for this stretch over the pass.”

  “We should be able to move from village to village in less than half a day,” Kell said. “If there are criminals in the mountains, we won’t want to stay out in the open.”

  Darrol nodded. “The guard gave us good advice on that, I’m sure. If there are bands roving the Spines we won’t be fending off five or six, but we could face twenty or more.”

  The innkeeper walked up to them with another round of drinks. “Heading north, I see.”

  “We are,” Paki said.

  “Merchants generally form trains from Rocky Ridge, right here.” He pointed to a town just before the foothills turned to mountains. “You’d have to pay some money to join them, but if you’re good with weapons, you can probably get the fee reduced. That’s what I recommend.”

  “That’s what we’ll do,” Darrol said. “Thanks for the tip.”

  The man nodded in acknowledgement. “I don’t get much repeat business from those that wind up dead in the Spines.”

  ~

  Pol never did like wearing hats, so he gladly let his brown hair tousle in the breeze. Two main roads joined theirs from the east and from the west as the traffic increased, heading towards one of the few passes up over the Wild Spines.

  They arrived at Rocky Ridge no worse for wear. Demeron had appreciated stopping at inns as long as Pol had paid extra for feed grain rather than hay. The citizens of Rocky Ridge had decorated the town with green and yellow bunting.

  There were three inns in the town, and they didn’t find rooms until they reached the third one on the north side of town.

  “What’s the occasion?” Paki said, “A festival?”

  “Summer’s Come. It’s the second best one of the year,” the innkeeper said. She was an older woman. She looked severe, but Pol noticed the smile lines at the sides of her eyes. “Hinkeyites settled Rocky Ridge four hundred years ago. Their calendar—”

  “Is a little strange,” Pol said. “Even though it’s mid-spring, this is the first day of Summer for them. They do the same thing for winter and their new year is a month and a half earlier than the rest of the Baccusol Empire. They followed the prophet Hinkey, who prophesied that the sun would turn blue at the end of the world.”

  “How did you know that, young man?” the innkeeper asked, her mouth open.

  “I’ve made a study of most of the world’s religions. I thought the Hinkeyites lived in Daftine?”

  “Most of them are there, but there are sprinkles of them all along the southern slope of the Spines,” the woman said. “Marvelous. You are one of the few who know us.”

  Pol bit his tongue. He was about to say something rude, but didn’t. He saw a pattern in keeping his mouth shut to avoid embarrassment. Malden had told him about something to the same effect in Borstall, but Mistress Farthia would be pleased he remembered a bit of all the studying he had done with the big religion text that was his academic focus the previous summer.

  “Does the whole town celebrate?” Darrol said.

  The woman grinned. “And visitors are welcome. It’s a celebration. Put off your travels for at least a day and enjoy Rocky Ridge.”

  Darrol looked at Pol, who shrugged.

  “I don’t think a day’s rest will hurt us,” Pol said. He looked at Kell and Paki, who was already bobbing his head up and down with encouragement.

  “I’m all for it,” Paki said, eyes gleaming.

  Kell didn’t look excited. “I suppose it wouldn’t be an awful thing to do,” he said. “If everyone else wants to, I’ll go along.”

  “It’s settled then. Two nights,” Darrol said.

  “With grain for our horses,” Pol said.

  The innkeeper’s eyes flashed. “I can do that. Enjoy yourselves. The festival grounds are on the west side of town, in walking distance. I suggest you eat your evening meal there, while strolling around.”

  Darrol paid the woman, and they lugged their possessions up the stairs. Pol insisted on sharing his room with Darrol. All four of them joined others in the town walking west where Pol could already hear the sounds of music and cheers from the festival grounds.

  “What else do the Hinkeyites do?” Darrol asked.

  “They believe in three gods, one for good, one for evil and one for life, but other than that they have local pastors, rather tha
n a hierarchical priesthood. No one has any idea when Hinkey’s prophecies are supposed to come true.” Pol thought for a bit. He tried not to get his religions mixed up. “They are very moral with strong families, and honesty is a prized practice. Except for…”

  “Except for what?” Kell said.

  “I think I read that they are purported to let their morals loosen a bit during the Summer and Winter festivals.”

  Paki whooped. “That’s even better! Let’s go see what loosened morals look like.”

  The light became brighter as they approached the festival grounds. This was nothing like the festival the King put on when the Emperor visited Borstall the previous summer. Pol didn’t see any children, and not even many youths Paki’s and his age.

  Couples and groups of unattached people roamed past stalls selling clothing and trinkets. People were kissing in public and being uncomfortably intimate. His companions’ eyes grew as they walked through the crowds.

  A bandstand played instruments that were similar but still different from what Pol was used to at Castle Borstall. Locals danced on the large wooden floor that had been built over the leveled dirt of the field. The riotous behavior continued while the couples danced.

  Pol could feel his face heat up with embarrassment. He looked at Paki, whose eyes just increased in size. Paki left them and found a youngish girl clapping to the tune, standing with what must have been her friends, and he took her out on the floor. His friend merged with the rest of the dancers.

  Kell looked inside a gambling tent. He emptied out half of his purse in Darrol’s hands. “I really like to wager,” he said, “but take this so I don’t lose it all.” He rushed inside to play games of chance.

  “What do you want to do, Darrol?”

  “This is a little too much for me. Let’s get some of the local flavor in our stomachs and head back to the inn. Kell and Paki can fend for themselves.”

  That sounded good to Pol, who turned down a lane of stalls that seemed to sell food. Soon Darrol and he were eating roasted turkey legs. Pol had never seen such a large drumstick. Even the cooks at Deftnis would have sliced the meat off of the legs.

  He found a fruit juice stand, but soon realized that the juice was fortified with alcohol. They walked along the stalls one more time, returning to the dance floor, but this time Paki wasn’t in sight.

  “The town isn’t that big. He’ll find his way back to the inn,” Darrol said. His voice was a little slurred from drinking a tankard of ale at a stall and finishing off most of Pol’s juice.

  Pol kept Darrol from staggering too badly as they reached the inn and made it into their room. There were only a few patrons sitting at tables in the inn, and their hostess was nowhere to be seen.

  Darrol nearly fell into bed, and Pol sat on his for a bit to collect his wits. It took less than an hour for their party to separate, and that startled Pol. How easy it was for them to succumb to the enticement of such pleasure. Even he smiled at the thought of the huge drumstick, which he never did finish, before he finally went to sleep.

  ~

  Pol lifted his eyes and sat up as the sun began to light up the thin curtains of their room. Darrol still snored, his back to Pol.

  Pol rose and quickly dressed, wondering if Paki had made it back. He knocked on the door to their room and tried the latch. The door hadn’t been locked. Pol could see that Kell’s bed hadn’t been slept in, but Paki seemed to have picked up a friend. Her hair fell on the outside part of the bed.

  “Paki,” Pol said quietly, tapping on his friend’s shoulder. He leaned over a healthy-looking girl, dressed only in an under-shift. He now noticed their clothing strewn about the room.

  “What?” Paki’s eyes were red and took a bit to focus. They grew when he noticed he shared the mattress. He sat up.

  The girl woke up. Her eyebrows rose with alarm.

  Would she scream? Pol thought.

  She jumped out of bed. Pol didn’t get his eyes averted and he saw more of the girl than he had seen of any other while she slipped into her clothes. She bent over and kissed Paki on the lips. “Late for work,” she said, winking at Pol on her way out.

  Shocked, Pol sat on Kell’s empty bed.

  Paki held the covers to his bare chest. “I, uh…”

  “You had a good time like a Hinkeyite, I suppose,” Pol said.

  “Alcohol and some kind of smoking drug. It might have even been minweed. I…” Paki shook his head. “These people are crazy.”

  “Did you…”

  Paki nodded, not able to keep one side of his mouth from twitching up. “‘Fraid so. My second time.”

  “I think you are supposed to take a bath after a time like this. I think my brothers did, Val told me, after I caught them with servants,” Pol said. He tried to keep from getting upset, but he didn’t know why he was upset…maybe more flustered. All he knew is that he wouldn’t make a very good Hinkeyite at his age and with his physical condition.

  Darrol walked in. “Did you have a good time, Paki?” The former guard grinned.

  “I think I did. I can’t remember all of it, but I seem to recall both of us did.” Paki closed his eyes and smiled.

  “Where’s Kell?” Darrol asked.

  Paki’s eyebrows went up again. “Isn’t he with you? I thought he might have slipped in, seeing that I was, uh, occupied, and then he went to your room.”

  Pol shook his head. “He’s missing. Let’s get something to eat if they are serving breakfast, and then go back to the waging tent.”

  ~

  The festival grounds looked a bit more forlorn in the morning. People were still sleeping in corners and out in the grassy field away from the stalls. An old man cleaned up the inside of the waging tent.

  “We are looking for a blondish twenty-year-old. He didn’t make it back to the inn last night,” Darrol said.

  The cleaner had lost all his teeth, and it looked like he had been chewing on bark or something when Pol walked up to him. “His name is Kell Digbee.”

  The man shook his head. “Don’t know no Kell, no how. I just clean up here. Don’t have no money for gambling anywho.”

  “Do you know who runs the tent? Who pays you to clean?”

  The man moved his jaw a bit before speaking. “That be Clorence Noster. He runs The Dainty Lady.”

  “A pub?” Darrol asked.

  “Partly,” the man said, grinning, showing his gums.

  Pol was already out of the tent. The three split up and made a quick tour of the festival grounds. No Kell.

  “Let’s get over to The Dainty Lady and hope they’re open,” Darrol said.

  Pol didn’t have a better idea, and after checking to make sure Kell’s horse still stood in the stables, they asked directions and found the tavern near their inn.

  Darrol led the two youths into the dark interior. The walls were painted to look like wallpaper. Too much red, Pol thought. A few women sat at table eating breakfast. They must have been the other part of what made The Dainty Lady money. Pol was learning too much about life on his quest.

  “Is Clorence Noster around?” Darrol asked one of the women. She had red-dyed hair and wore a simple cotton gown.

  “Looking for a job? You look like you could handle a lot, sweetie. The boys are too young for guards and too old for…you know.”

  Pol quickly cleared his throat. Too much information, he thought.

  “One of our party went missing from the gambling tent. We want to be on our way north.”

  “Did he have money?” one of the other women asked. “Bandits sometimes come and kidnap rich visitors. Once they wring all the money out of them, some of their victims are good for ransom bait.”

  “There are two or three victims each festival. The Duke of Sand’s guard don’t push much past Rocky Ridge, unless it is to protect the pass,” the red-haired woman said.

  “Where do they live, these bandits?” Darrol said.

  “West into the Spines, of course. I think it’s time you went on yo
ur way. Your friend is lost, unless you have more money than his kind do.”

  “I’d still like to see Clorence.” Darrol looked at Pol and Paki, but Pol couldn’t understand what his friend wanted them to know.

  “Won’t be back until tonight. You might want to spend a few coins in the gambling tent first. That would be the kindly thing to do.”

  “Thank you for your time, miss.”

  She giggled. “He called me miss.” The women all laughed, rather coarsely in Pol’s view.

  Darrol led them outside into the cleaner morning air. “What do you think?”

  Pol recalled what the woman had said and how she said it. “I think we find Clorence.”

  “Why?” Paki asked.

  “Do you think the guard would let bandits just come in and take two or three visitors hostage every festival? I don’t.”

  “Then we visit the guard.” Darrol stopped a man passing by to get directions to the Duke’s guard building, more towards the center of town.

  The guard building was bigger than the last one they visited.

  Darrol walked up to a man seated at a high desk in a lobby lined with chairs.

  “What can I do for you?” This guard was no friendlier than the last one they visited.

  “One of our party has gone missing,” Darrol said.

  “At the Festival? It happens.” The guard didn’t seem to be very alarmed by Kell’s plight.

  “I’d like to speak to your superior,” Darrol said.

  “He’s unavailable right now.” The guard waved Darrol away with his hand and looked down at his paperwork.

  Pol couldn’t believe a traveler would be treated so poorly by the Duke’s guard. He spied a door that said Chief Guard, Dixtor Tildan on it. Another guard had just walked out of the Chief Guard’s office.

  “We need to see him now,” Darrol said.

  Pol walked over to the Chief’s door and entered. “Are you the Chief Guard in Rocky Ridge?” he said to a man in a different uniform from the others.

  “Who said you could enter?” Dixtor Tildan said.

  “My friend is missing. He was gambling into the night and didn’t return. He’s not sleeping it off on the festival grounds, and we heard that bandits abduct rich gamblers for ransom.”