The Monk's Habit (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 2) Page 17

  “That’s just a story to scare visitors,” Tildan said.

  Pol looked at the man. Tildan quickly developed a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and began to play with a penknife on his desk. That seemed to be a reaction to lying.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The Chief Guard’s eyes bulged. “You don’t have to believe me, you sapling,” he snapped.

  Pol lifted the man up from his chair with his magic and put him down again. “I am a Fourth Level magician from Deftnis. My friend, indeed all of us, are on a mission for the monastery. We wanted to pass through here quietly and go on our way, but you are impeding our journey,” Pol said, doing his best to imitate his stepfather, King Colvin. “Do you want another demonstration?” Pol leaned forward on the back of a sturdy chair in front of the Tildan’s desk. His heart was beginning to pound. Any threats from here would be bluffs.

  Darrol stormed in.

  The Chief Guard looked at Darrol. “You are from Deftnis?”

  Darrol pulled out the folded portfolio with the Abbot’s note. “You can read. This will verify our mission.” He tossed the folded parchment on the desk.

  “Parchment, eh?” The man looked at Darrol with a trace of fear on his face. He unfolded the thick document and read. “I can’t help you.”

  Pol could tell the man lied again. “Do you know Clorence Noster?”

  “There are ten thousand people in Rocky Ridge right now. How could I know them all?”

  “I would think you would be familiar with the owner of The Dainty Lady and the operator of the only gambling tent on the festival grounds,” Darrol said, retrieving the Abbot’s note.

  The man put his finger around his collar. “Perhaps, I know him.”

  Pol was going to accuse him of being in league with Noster, but what little he had absorbed from the man’s pattern, the man would only resist harder. The key was finding Clorence Noster, and the brothel owner would lead them to Kell.

  Pol touched Darrol’s elbow. “We must go,” he said.

  “It will go ill for you to get in our way,” Darrol said.

  Dixtor Tildan rose from his desk. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No,” Darrol said quietly. “I just want to remind you of your duty to the Duke of Sand.” He turned and left with Pol. Paki stood at the doorway and followed them out.

  “Brigands, my foot,” Darrol said. “The biggest bandit sits behind that big desk.”

  “He was lying,” Pol said.

  “Of course he was. As soon as he didn’t admit knowing Noster, that did it. He knows we are from Deftnis.”

  “I lifted him off his chair,” Pol said.

  Darrol grunted. “Good. He’ll think we can all do that. Let’s go talk to the innkeeper. I hope she’s not in on this.”

  “What?” Paki said.

  “Fleecing travelers.” Darrol shook his head. “What lousy timing to come through here for some festival.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~

  THE INNKEEPER SAT AT ONE OF HER COMMON ROOM TABLES, shuffling through bills, when the three of them sat at that same table. She gave them a big smile.

  “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

  “The big blond youth was abducted last night,” Pol said. “His name is Kell, and we’ve already been to see the Chief Guard and have made a quick visit to The Dainty Lady.

  The woman’s smile disappeared. “You quickly found the rotten underbelly of Rocky Ridge. Clorence Noster and Chief Tildan have not done Rocky Ridge any favors,” she said.

  “Do you know where we can find Noster?” Darrol pushed the Abbot’s documentation towards the innkeeper.

  She accepted it and unfolded the parchment. Her eyebrows rose. “Magicians?”

  “All of us are, at one level or another,” Darrol said. “We even have a pattern-master amongst us.”

  “The young man missing?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Darrol said, his face calm.

  “Modesty. It suits you,” she said, with a smile back on her face. “How can I help you?”

  “Are they keeping Kell in town? Kell Digbee is our friend’s name,” Pol said.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Never in town. They do this a few times a year, you know.”

  “We do,” Darrol said.

  She nodded. “I only know of rumors, but further west and then north into the Spines, Noster funds a band of brigands. Perhaps you can follow him. It has to be less than half a day away, because he can disappear in the mornings and return to host the activities at his brothel.” She raised her hands. “Don’t tell anyone I said a thing. I still have to live in this town. It’s my home.”

  “We won’t. Chief Tildan already knows we are Deftnis monks, so we’ll get our horses and be heading out. Hopefully we’ll be back tonight, but we won’t be going to the festival, you understand.”

  She nodded and watched them leave the common room. Pol looked back to see her face. She still looked concerned, and Pol interpreted that as a good sign that she spoke the truth.

  How much easier it would be if he knew a truth spell. He wondered how often Val employed his. From his impression, Val didn’t resort to using magic to uncover the truth unless there were no alternatives. Was there a reason? Perhaps truth spells were rude and looked down on.

  They took all their possessions with them, even though Darrol said they would be back. Paki loaded Kell’s horse, and then they left Rocky Ridge, heading east, the opposite direction from where the innkeeper said the bandits lived. They rode out of sight of the town and then turned back, traveling west.

  After an hour at a reasonable pace, Darrol turned them south. “What are we looking for?” he said, playing the tutor. That brought a smile to Pol’s face, so he let Paki answer.

  “Tracks. If Noster travels back and forth to the brigand hideout, he’s sure to have worn some kind of path.”

  Pol thought back to the map. “There is a west road, so it’s also possible that he takes the road and then heads north, if the hideout is in the Spines.”

  “Oh,” Darrol said. He looked a bit deflated. “So we still head west?”

  Pol nodded. Darrol hadn’t gone to as many Seeking classes as Paki and Pol, but his instincts were right. “We will travel a little north of the road, if we can, and be alert for trails crossing our path. If we don’t find any that look fresh, then we can take the road back, looking for paths heading south.”

  Pol rode along thinking of patterns. He talked to Demeron, who had little sense of the kind of patterns Pol was trying to create. Pol had to admit there were limitations in Demeron’s thinking, but it helped pass the time.

  They had ridden for another hour when Paki noticed the trail. “Hoof prints. They look fresh.”

  They dismounted. Demeron took the horses to the side, and they began munching on a patch of tall spring grass. Pol lowered to his haunches and used a twig to look at the impressions in the dirt.

  “Five or more horses,” Pol said. “There must have been a rain shower along here last night. These are the only prints, and it’s clear none are heading back to the road. He looked northward at higher hills topped by glimpses of the vertical shards of rock that gave the Wild Spines their name. “Should we just follow these?”

  Darrol shrugged. “You’re the most experienced Seeker.”

  Pol smiled, but he had no humor behind it. “I’m not a scout or a tracker. Paki’s done more of that than I.”

  Paki raised his hands. “I’m still just learning. After you left the class, we’ve been talking about battle strategies.”

  “And what kind of strategy should we follow here?”

  Pol’s friend put his hand to his chin and thought for a moment. “If we are outnumbered, it’s better to flank your enemy. Surprise is on your side that way. A scout should always be on the lookout for opportunities to get past the enemy.”

  “Then that means we should have known the land better. We don’t have the luxury of that,�
� Pol said. “Unless it’s dark. Then I have an advantage with my location spell.” He thought for a bit. “First of all, let’s follow this up, but not on this path. We’ll make our own. They might see our own hoof prints.”

  Paki shook his head. “How do you come up with all this?”

  “For me it’s just common sense. I’ve been reading about battle strategies,” Pol said. He had to admit he had learned a lot since Mistress Farthia had come to teach him.

  “Then let’s do it,” Darrol said. “Your strategy sounds good to me.”

  They mounted again and rode fifty paces west, and then headed north again, into the Spines.

  ~

  There is a man on a horse heading down the other path, Demeron told Pol about an hour and a half later.

  “How do you know?”

  Horses can see and smell better than humans.

  Pol closed his eyes and reached out with his spell. He could see a colored dot, orange, moving south. “Someone is coming down the path. It’s time to find some cover.”

  Since the hills had become steeper, jagged rocks now poked through the soil, making them ride around the stony clusters. Pol thought that they made great hiding places. The three of them dismounted and waited.

  Pol sensed the man getting into sight range, and there he was, an older man, dressed rather well, ambling along with his horse down the trail. He suspected that was Clorence Noster.

  “You stay here. Demeron and I will follow him down for a bit. I want to get a look at his face,” Pol said.

  “Don’t waste too much time,” Darrol said.

  “I won’t.” Pol mounted Demeron, and they paralleled the rider for a few hundred yards until Pol nudged Demeron forward. He looked back at Noster and saw a man with a grizzled gray beard and narrowed eyes. He looked mean.

  He was about to return when he noticed more men riding from the south. They would intercept Noster in a few moments. Pol dismounted. “Help me if I get into trouble.”

  Demeron shook his head, and Pol crept through the underbrush that led all the way to the trail. Dixtor Tildan, the Chief Guard of Rocky Ridge, rode into view with two guards.

  “Three Deftnis monks are searching for you,” Tildan said. “They figured out what we’ve been doing. It looks like they headed east of Rocky Ridge, but they might end up coming this way.”

  Noster laughed. ‘What’s three against my eight men? With you three that makes eleven against three.”

  “Where will you be?” Tildan said.

  “I have to find another rich visitor or two. I won’t let any monks ruin this summer’s ransoms. Spend the day up at my camp. I’ll make it worth your while,” Noster said.

  Pol was close enough to see the displeasure on Tildan’s face. “I’ll make sure that it is. There is a boy who is a powerful magician. He lifted me right up from my seat,” Tilden said.

  “Tricks are all magicians know,” Noster said. “Go on up. You’ll be just in time for lunch. I feed the men pretty good at festival time. If nothing has happened when I return tomorrow, you can return to Rocky Ridge.”

  Tilden nodded and motioned to his two men. They headed up the trail.

  “Monks!” Noster muttered as he continued south towards the road.

  Pol watched the man go and wondered if he shouldn’t capture him. He decided against it. He had seen and heard enough. He let a few moments pass and headed back towards their hiding place.

  After recounting the mid-trail discussion, they decided they could ride and soon headed along a narrow defile, surrounded on both sides by the rocks making up the Spines. Pol made sure his location spell was active to notify him of watchmen.

  Eleven to three. He had to assume Kell couldn’t help them. “Can we go against them?”

  “Are you intending a battle or what? We can’t just go in and grab Kell,” Darrol said, “Right?”

  Pol nodded. “So we sneak in? Should we wait for dark?”

  “I would,” Paki said. “That will make it easier to use Demeron.”

  Pol had forgotten about the very horse he rode.

  “Are you up for that?” Pol asked.

  I am. I’ll see if I can persuade my fellows into helping.

  “I didn’t think you could talk to other horses.”

  Demeron didn’t reply. Did Pol just learn that horses talked and could keep secrets? He wondered.

  He sensed two men on watch up ahead, so they took a small trail to their right and led their horses through a narrow slice in the rock, which rubbed against Demeron’s sides as he slipped through.

  Can we come down the trail coming back? Please?

  Pol patted Demeron’s jaw as the trail opened up into a little valley. A trail of smoke wound up in the still afternoon from a stand of trees on the other side. There weren’t any brigands close by, so they stopped to mount up and rode closer to the other side, moving along the forested edge so that they ended up behind the camp rather than in front of it. Darrol carved flashes in the bark in case they had to escape the way they had come.

  “Flanking,” Paki said, grinning.

  “Right,” Darrol said quietly. “Our easiest escape isn’t through eleven armed men.”

  They dismounted. Paki volunteered to move closer to check out the camp, but Pol stopped him. “I can use my talent to see where the men are and where they are keeping Kell.”

  Pol took off, but not too quickly. He had to maintain his strength for any magic he would have to perform. He gnashed his teeth, wishing that this had happened after they found Searl and the monk had healed him. As if that would ever happen. He shook off the negative thought and slipped a little closer. Most of the men congregated on the south side of the camp facing the conventional entry to the valley.

  He located ten spots. The other two were watching the trail and were out of Pol’s range. So he could guess the one dot that had no one around it must be Kell.

  The camp was permanent. There were four mud-walled buildings, all faced with a lime wash covering the thick sides. Pol didn’t think Kell could break through the hardened mud. The roofs were made out of wooden shingles. There were two wooden outhouses and a large firepit/outdoor kitchen from which smoke trailed skyward.

  No one guarded Kell in the small building. He crept closer, willing himself into invisibility, still not confident that the spell worked, and spied the sturdy iron lock keeping Kell in his prison.

  Pol could see two tiny windows up towards the roof, but they were only a foot square, enough to let in a little light, but too small to crawl through, especially Kell. He looked towards the brigands. They were just serving lunch. Pol crept towards the little building and used his magic to open the lock.

  “Who’s there?” Kell said.

  After putting his finger to his lips to quiet Kell, he released his spell. It obviously worked, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Are you ready to run for it?”

  Kell nodded. “I didn’t know you could hide yourself,” he said quietly.

  “Wasn’t sure myself.” Pol looked around at the storage shed. Shelves lined the walls. Weapons, pots, pans, and other things littered one side, and the other held food stores.

  “Can you make fire with your magic?” Pol said. “Fire drains my energy too much.”

  Kell shook his head.

  “Then do you remember your lesson making fire? The materials are here,” Pol said. “The floors are wooden rather than dirt so the whole place should burn.”

  “Why?”

  “If we make it out of here, they might think you burned up in the shack, or maybe they’ll spend more time putting the fire out rather than chasing us. We have to do something, since they outnumber us about three to one.”

  The two of them got to work. Kell had his set-up going before Pol. Then someone fiddled with the lock on the door. Pol was glad he had thought to lock it back up when he went in.

  “Don’t try nothin’. There’s four of us here,” the voice said on the other side of the door.

  Pol could see
that only one of the brigands spoke to them from the other side, so he spelled himself invisible. The door opened.

  Kell had pushed their fire making tools behind him.

  “Stay where you are,” the bandit said. He set the food down on the floor and was backing out of the shed when Pol hit him over the head with a hammer from one of the shelves. He used a bit of magic to make the blow as hard as he could.

  “Is he dead?” Pol asked, watching the floor turn red with the man’s blood. He couldn’t believe he had just killed a man. He took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that the brigands could have killed Kell at any time.

  Kell nodded and seemed impressed with Pol’s feat. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Let’s get the fire started and get going.”

  They went to it, and soon they had two small fires growing in the shed. Kell ran out and hid behind the building while Pol locked the door again. Maybe they would think that Kell had died in the blaze. The bandit’s body might be confused for Kell’s.

  By the time they made their way to Darrol and Paki, another trail of smoke floated up over the hideout, and it grew thicker. Pol could hear excited voices. Even from their concealed vantage point, they could tell the shed was lost. The roof was burning fiercely, and the mud was beginning to crumble from the walls, leaving wooden slats to catch fire.

  “Time to leave,” Darrol said. “Let’s hope it won’t come to a fight.

  Pol looked back and saw cinders from the roof catch on another building. None of the brigands or the guards even looked their way. They rode without haste through the woods and found the narrow passageway.

  “Sorry, Demeron.”

  It is a small price to pay to keep everyone without injury.

  “Including your fellows?”

  Demeron nodded with his head while they all dismounted and led their horses through the tight trail.

  When they finally reached the main track, an arrow shattered against a rock by Paki’s head.

  “They’ve found us!” Darrol said and urged his horse on. Pol let the others go ahead, while he spelled the magnetic shield that Vactor had taught him just before they left on their mission, and Demeron had to keep from running ahead of the others.