The Sleeping God (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 4) Page 2

  “So what do we do with these?”

  “You can sell them for a few coppers at a market. I’ll take you to the best one in the city. It’s not that far. Follow me.”

  Shira and Pol walked a few paces behind Namion.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered.

  “Look at you like what?” Pol couldn’t help but smile. “You paid for the books, I didn’t.”

  She poked Pol in the ribs.

  “Ow!”

  “There are ways to make you pay for your impudence.”

  “Spoken like a princess,” Pol said.

  Shira stopped in her tracks and looked at Pol with a surprised look on her face.

  “What did I say?”

  Shira shook her head. “Nothing.” She waved her hand. “Nothing at all,” she said as she hurried up to Namion.

  Pol followed behind both of them. Sometimes Shira totally confused him. She did pay out of her own purse. That brought a smile back to his face.

  She didn’t return to him until Namion led them to a busy square and through the throngs of merchants closing up for the day to a bookseller’s tent.

  “Afez,” Namion said to the bookseller. “It has been a while.”

  A burly man dressed in robes similar to a monk’s looked at Namion. “All of five days, if my reckoning is correct,” he said in Eastrilian. The man looked Shira and Pol over. “These are your little cubs?”

  “Two of four. They bought a couple of traveling books from the bookseller in Prosperous Square. Will you trade them for something useful?”

  Afez held out his hand to Shira who put a book in his hands. “Yours?” he said to Pol, who gladly gave the man his own copy.

  “It’s not really mine. She bought both of them.” Pol smiled and turned his eyes to Shira, who glared at him.

  “A silver plus the ones here in trade for two of these in Eastrilian.”

  Pol pulled out his own purse and handed the man a North Salvan silver coin. “Here.”

  Afez looked a little disappointed. “You are supposed to negotiate, young man. But a deal is a deal in my country.” He went back into his tent and came out with two bound books, thicker than those Shira had bought. “Phrases and basic language tips for all of the languages, except for Volian.” Afez looked at Namion. “I don’t suppose you’ll be leading your cubs through Wessak?”

  “I have in mind an eastern tour, since I have business in Demina. Pol wants to visit Fassin. He thinks he has distant relations in Gekelmar.”

  “Then you can show them our beloved capital,” Afez said.

  Pol detected a stronger meaning behind the suggestion. Namion nodded. He turned around to give one of the new books to Shira, but she had left them.

  “Where’s Shira?”

  “The girl? She went that way,” Afez pointed towards the setting sun.

  Pol took off into the hubbub of men and women taking down their tents. He saw Shira just ducking her head into a tent. Pol regretted leaving his sword at the inn, but he carried three knives on him.

  “Did you see her?” Namion said. “She shouldn’t be alone in all this.”

  Pol nodded. “Follow me.”

  He hurried through the crowd and stepped into the tent. He heard Shira speaking Shinkyan to an old South Parsimol woman. Pol looked at the merchant and could see the faint haze of a magical disguise.

  Shira glared at him and turned back to say a few more words. The woman looked at Pol and said something.

  “That’s him,” she said in Eastrilian. “I’ll introduce you.”

  “Pol, this is Mana, a countrywoman, as I’m sure you’ve surmised.”

  Pol bowed. “I am pleased to meet you. I am sure that Shira might need to speak with you a little longer. I’ll be outside. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t in danger.”

  “I’m in good hands,” Shira said.

  Pol left to join Namion standing in front of the tent. “Speaking Shinkyan?” the Seeker asked.

  Pol nodded. “The woman is disguised.”

  “I already know her. They are always interested in what goes on in South Parsimol and Botarra, even the Shards, for that matter. Shinkyans are a worried lot,” Namion snorted. “Hens!”

  Pol could hear the women pause at Namion’s last word. They started up again.

  “They heard you,” Pol said. He knew he would never say such a thing. Pol had developed a healthy respect for ‘hens’ after his recent voyage with Queen Isa and Shira.

  “She knows how I feel. We’ve met once before,” Namion said. “I gave her information, and she declined to reciprocate.”

  Pol felt someone pinch his back and turned to Shira. “Ow!”

  “She needs help with her tent. I’m sure in the interests of world peace that you’ll both help.”

  Namion winced. “If it will promote world peace, tell me what you want us to do.”

  ~

  “What are you reading?” Paki said, when he finally returned from his own tour of the port.

  Pol looked at the cover of his language text. “A book on the languages of Volia. I want to understand the natives.”

  “It’s funny, huh? Each country speaks a different language. That’s a lot different than Eastril,” Paki said.

  “Before the Empire, the countries of the Baccusol Empire spoke different languages. With eight hundred years of Imperial Rule, everyone speaks the same. Shinkya is on the continent of Eastril, but they don’t speak Eastrilian. Imagine how it is, fighting a foe who doesn’t speak your language. It is probably easier to think of them as an enemy if you can’t communicate properly,” Pol said.

  “Boring…” Paki said. “I don’t care. I don’t need to speak a different language to admire pretty girls.”

  Pol shook his head. “But what if you want to do more than admire?”

  Paki grinned. “I’m sure there are ways to break the language barrier,” he said. He looked at Pol’s book again. “But it wouldn’t hurt to learn. Maybe when you’re done, you’ll let me read it. Maybe the languages are familiar, you know, fit a pattern.”

  “A pattern!” Pol said. “Good thinking. I’ve never thought of language like that before. Maybe I can use magic to learn.”

  Paki didn’t look very convinced. “Magic to learn?” He grunted. “That’s not something they teach you at Deftnis.”

  “The monks don’t need to do that in the Empire.”

  “All of this talk has built up a thirst. I’m heading down to the common room.” Paki left Pol to his studies.

  Pol skimmed the sections on Bottaran and Parsimolian and looked for similarities, but didn’t find very many. He wondered if border towns mixed the two languages. He looked for a pattern in Parsimolian and found conceptual similarities to Eastrilian. Once he found the key, he tried to use sips of magic to interpret Parsimolian, but that didn’t work. Someone would have to teach him the technique, if there was one. So it all boiled down to a matter of memorizing grammar and words.

  With his excellent reading memory, Pol felt confident enough to try speaking a few sentences to Namion. He tucked the book under his arm and went to join Paki.

  When he walked into the common room, he saw the back of Shira and Paki’s excited face. Paki always found something to be excited about. Kell looked on, less enthusiastic than his friend. Pol sat down next to Shira.

  “Did you have a nice conversation with your friend?” Pol asked. Shira hadn’t said much after she walked out of the Shinkyan woman’s tent.

  She had gotten a few good pinches in after they finished helping put the Shinkyan woman’s tent on her cart. Pol ended up trailing Namion and Shira for most of the way back to avoid Shira’s punishment. He noticed that she hadn’t pinched Namion at all, and the Seeker had made the comment.

  After nodding and taking a sip of what looked like watered wine, she pursed her lips and looked at Pol, who had just been served some dark ale.

  “I don’t think my people are happy with my decision to accompany you. They
think it’s too dangerous.”

  Pol looked up at the ceiling, wondering what the Shinkyans were thinking. “Once they put you in the Tesnan Monastery, you were in peril the entire time. We were in two armies and fought to save Queen Isa. Kolli died defending the Queen. And they think a tour of Volia is too risky?”

  Shira nodded and gave Pol a weak smile. “I think it odd, as well. Maybe I should assume a disguise, something more Volian.”

  “What’s this about a disguise?” Namion said as he sat down on the other side of Shira.

  “My conversation this afternoon. They would rather have me return directly to Shinkya.”

  “What do you want to do? If you’re going to leave, it’s better to do it from here. The only other port that does much trade with Eastril is in the northeastern coast in Duchary.”

  “I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” Shira said.

  Pol felt her press her knee against his leg. He could tell that wasn’t punishment.

  “A disguise wouldn’t be a bad idea for either of you in South Parsimol or Bottara. Fistyra and Bossom are a bit more cosmopolitan. Bossom even has a decent-sized Teriland community. A number of them have Pol’s hair coloring,” Namion said to Shira.

  “I’ll look around and find a suitable face and coloring.”

  “A little lighter skin is probably all you need, with some small tweaks to your face, and it might be nice to put a little curl in your hair,” Namion said.

  “What about me?” Pol said.

  “Paki could nearly pass for a local, but for the sharpness of his features. You should find a decent pattern in the common room tonight.”

  Pol would do just that. He looked around and found a face that seemed similar enough to his own, but blunter with rounder eyes. The fewer changes would mean a less painful transformation.

  “I’ll be back,” Pol said. He walked into the washroom and looked at the tiny metal mirror over a washbasin. The vision of the face that he saw filled his mind as he tweaked a new look, a feature at a time. It was less painful that way, and when he finished putting a little curl in his now-black hair, he smiled.

  He walked up to Namion and said in Parsimolian, “Is this seat taken?”

  “Pol?” Namion looked at him and frowned. “The words were about right, but the diction was a little too ripe. You are a quick study.”

  Shira hadn’t recognized him. “Good job,” she said. “I’m impressed.” She actually looked friendly now.

  Pol sat down. “Paki told me to use patterns to learn languages, but I couldn’t find any way to use magic to learn faster.”

  “There isn’t any that I know of,” Namion said.

  Shira looked surprised at Paki. “Good job.” She repeated through her teeth what she said to Pol and squeezed Pol’s leg, a little harder than necessary.

  What had brought on Shira’s need to punish him?

  “Patterns.” Namion said. “That will actually help you learn how to speak like the natives, but you must listen to how the words are said to get the pattern down.”

  “Parsimolian is quite different from Eastrilian. The grammar is in a different order than what I’m used to,” Pol said.

  “Order,” Shira said, sarcastically. Order was the term Tesnan monks had used to describe patterns that were used in exercising magic in the Empire.

  “I’ll have to practice pronunciation,” Pol nodded. “We can do that while we travel.”

  Namion nodded. “You, too, Shira,” he said. “Then you two can teach Kell and Paki the basics. I have other things to keep my mind busy.”

  Pol looked at Paki and said, “I won’t need the book after a week. I can retain written words rather well.”

  “Then you can concentrate on the writing. We should have kept one of the language books written in Parsimolian,” Namion said.

  “I have one of my own,” Shira said. “My Shinkyan contact gave it to me. It is in Shinkyan, but it also has basic writing.”

  “I can learn Shinkyan, too,” Pol said.

  “I don’t even know that language,” Namion said. “You think you are going to be linguists?” The comment came out a bit too sarcastically for Pol.

  Paki didn’t look very enthusiastic. “Learning languages isn’t adventure,” he said. “But the tour will be.”

  Kell looked nonplussed, but joined in. “I guess I’m game. The more I travel, the more the family business appeals to me. I never thought that would happen.”

  “Once we leave the port, we are heading east for a number of days before we travel north to Fassin,” Namion said. “If you have any lingering doubts, now is the time to decide.”

  “I’m in,” Pol said.

  “So am I.” Shira put her arm around Pol’s shoulders. “I’m going to follow this Parsimolian all the way to Fassin.”

  “And back,” Paki said.

  “Not back here.” Pol looked at them all. “We’ll take a ship from Duchary back to the Empire. Right, Namion?”

  “That would be my suggestion.”

  “And along the way we learn about Volia,” Shira said. “That is one of my conditions.”

  “Conditions? You never mentioned anything about conditions,” Pol said. “What are you up to?”

  Shira colored a bit. “I had to justify my going along some way. The Queen has to know why I’m not returning immediately. I’m going to get the same education that Pol gets in behalf of his Emperor.”

  Namion shrugged his shoulders. “There is that,” he said.

  “Why does the Queen have to know where you go?” Kell asked.

  “I am her subject,” she said. “I am also very talented, and Shinkya won’t be able to use me while I’m gone. I was told to return today,” her voice broke a little, “and I refused. The Queen may be disappointed, but I’m not.” She gave them all a smile. She lifted up her cup of wine. “Here is to a successful tour!”

  Pol felt that Shira’s decision might have come with a personal cost. He didn’t know what it was, but it definitely affected her. He was still glad that she decided to come with them. He knew at some time in the future they would have to part ways, but Pol would enjoy her company for a few months longer, maybe all the way to spring.

  ~~~

  Chapter Three

  ~

  Pol pulled the cloak a little tighter around his neck. A cool wind blew at their backs from the ocean, bringing in ominous gray clouds. He shifted on the unfamiliar saddle that Namion said was typical in Volia. He’d have to get used to it. Shira looked miserable, just ahead. He rode to her side.

  “Lovely weather,” he said.

  Shira shrugged and burrowed into her cloak a little tighter.

  “Does it get cold like this in Shinkya?”

  She looked over at him with a face filled with uncertainty. “It does, but…”

  “But now you’re having second thoughts about our Volian tour?”

  “I am,” Shira said. “I’ll admit it.” The comment seemed to have wiped away some of her pain. “I was thinking Volia would have perfect weather, and we would be singing and laughing and telling jokes and pulling pranks the whole time, but we are stuck in this awful weather, and with Namion.” She lifted her chin in the Seeker’s direction, “He isn’t the friendly guide I thought he’d be.”

  Pol’s eyes turned forward to Namion riding ahead, talking to Paki and Kell. He could tell that Paki’s animated gestures indicated that he was probably talking about Volian girls. The Seeker didn’t reflect Paki’s enthusiasm.

  “He has his own purposes in traveling the length of Volia, and it isn’t to be our travel companion,” Pol said. “He’s already said we’ll be spending more time in Demina. I’m not happy that he’s controlling how fast we travel.”

  “I know what Namion is trying to do. He’s working on a revolution in South Parsimol. You remember the bookseller in the market?”

  Pol nodded.

  She continued. “There is a lot going on in Volia, and we know absolutely nothing about what we face. Namio
n could be leading us into mortal danger, and we would have no idea.”

  Pol nodded again. “I agree, but what can we do? Both of us have been working on learning Parsimolian and Bottaran, but unless we practice with someone who knows Eastrilian, we can’t go off on our own. It’s clear that the Volian cultures are too different from the Empire.”

  “And Shinkya, which is nothing like the rest of Eastril,” Shira said.

  Pol thought as their conversation paused. “I feel isolated. Do you feel the same?” Pol thought that Shira felt the strangeness of South Parsimol more intensely than he did.

  She pressed her lips together and looked at him, and then held out her hand. Pol moved his horse closer and took it.

  “We are together, and that makes everything better.” She struggled to give him a smile, and Pol felt relieved when she succeeded. “Maybe we should spend more time with Paki and Kell. Paki approaches life like it’s one big joke.”

  Pol smiled back. “I think you are right. He’s entertaining Namion, who always look like he needs cheering up. Let’s move closer.”

  They had let the others move ahead of them. “Race you.”

  Pol let her reach Paki before he did, and saw Shira’s face brighten.

  “Talking about me?” Shira said as she matched paces with those ahead.

  Paki turned, blushing. “Not exactly. We were talking about girls in general.” He cleared his throat.

  “What about ‘girls in general’?” Shira asked. She looked like a hawk ready to dive on a hapless mouse.

  Paki cleared his throat again. “I wanted to know how friendly girls are in Volia.”

  “That depends,” Shira said.

  Namion turned and looked at Shira with an amused expression. Shira might not be the only person enjoying her attack on his friend.

  She continued. “It depends on you and the girl—”

  “And the culture, and the relative economic class of the girl and the suitor,” Namion said, cutting off Shira.

  Paki’s eyes widened. “Suitor?”

  “In many areas of Volia, approaching a girl for sexual purposes assumes an indication of an interest on the part of the male to marry. A woman’s aggressiveness towards a man may be her attempt to acquire a husband.”