The Fractured Empire: Book Seven of the Disinherited Prince Series Read online

  “Is the Empire in grave danger?”

  Jonness nodded. “It’s on the verge of fracture. Daftine is now controlled by the Winnow Society, as is West Huffnya, where they originated. Grostin, as you know, has made common cause with them, and Tarida is threatened and will soon fall. Quite frankly, if it wasn’t for Shira and the Shinkyan forces, South Salvan might have succumbed long ago.”

  “I couldn’t have come back any sooner,” Pol said.

  “Yes, you could. If those damned Shinkyans hadn’t knocked you on the head, you could have taken your brother’s throne and secured the East for Hazett III.”

  Pol knew he would not have done such a thing, but that was all in the past. He now had to face a more uncertain future than he had ever envisioned.

  ~

  Anna Lassler, the abbess at Mancus Abbey, welcomed Pol, Akil, and Gula inside the nunnery. The Abbey that Pol had left behind four years ago looked quite different, with new buildings and novices scurrying around in dark gray habits.

  “How many women are here?” Pol asked.

  “We will reach one hundred by Winter’s Day,” Anna said.

  Pol smiled at her large tummy. “When do you…?”

  “By the end of summer, our third,” Anna said, smiling.

  Pol kept thinking he had only been gone for a season or two, but he kept getting reminders that he had been gone for four years.

  “Gula would like to study with you for a while,” Pol said. “She doesn’t speak Eastrilian very well.” Other than lessons on the ship, she hadn’t spoken a word of Eastrilian until she had left the little Zasosian slip on Daera. Pol gave lessons to Akil and Gula, but Akil had picked up the language better than the healer had.

  “We can manage that, can’t we, Gula?”

  Gula tentatively smiled and shrugged. Pol translated, and then she enthusiastically nodded her head.

  “We will get by,” Anna said. “I have novices who would love to help her, especially if she can see into a person’s body,”

  “I tested her,” Searl said, sitting with a little girl on his lap. “We can make her into a wonderful healer. I think once she learns the language, she can teach your novices quite a bit. Gula heals using natural remedies, as well.”

  Pol rose. “I have to get back to the Isle.” He turned to Gula and spoke Zasosian. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but be patient with the language, and they will be patient as they learn new healing techniques from you.”

  Pol left Searl and the healer in the abbey. He looked out toward Deftnis and saw the boat midway between Deftnis and Port Mancus. He had a little time and walked along the main street of the Port. It had grown just like Deftnis had across the water.

  He walked into a newly-built three-story shop, remembering the old one-story shop that sold hardware on the same plot. This shop sold clothing. Pol’s Zasosian clothes were too different to wear on the road. He didn’t want to attract any attention, so he would let any watchers focus on Akil’s Zasosian styles.

  “Tailored or ready-to-wear?” the shopkeeper asked.

  “Ready-to-wear,” Pol said. “I’m leaving in the morning for Yastan. I don’t know what styles are like.”

  “Been over at the monastery all this time wearing one of those scratchy gray robes?”

  “As good as,” Pol said. He strolled through the merchandise. “Something comfortable to ride in. Two outfits. Maybe I’ll get something more in Yastan.”

  The shopkeeper nodded. “I’ve got some leather outfits. Soft trousers and a vest. I have some new linen shirts in that you might like. The weather is good, but I’ve got a nice rain cloak.”

  Pol wondered where his warded cloak had gotten. The Scorpions had not stuffed it in his bags when they sent him off to Daera. The thought reminded him that he had not had his talk with Karo.

  “Two outfits and a waterproof hooded cloak,” Pol said.

  The shopkeeper gave him a price, and after a little haggling, Pol handed over Imperial coins that he and Akil had exchanged with the monastery, who could use the Zasosian money.

  Pol looked out the window as the shopkeeper wrapped up his purchase. The ferryboat was just putting into port. He noticed Searl walking up to the pier.

  He stepped out into the sunshine and watched monks and sailors heading towards the delights of Port Mancus. Abbot Pleagor had not indulged the port master by adding dens of iniquity on the Isle.

  “Searl,” Pol said.

  “Made a few purchases? I noticed you left Gula to her own devices.”

  Pol nodded. “I needed some new clothes.” He lifted up the package. “Do you think Gula will do well?”

  Searl nodded. “I’m glad you brought her with you. Anna needs an outstanding healer. She has a few novices who show progress in advanced healing, but my daughter doesn’t have anyone to teach them, other than me, and my schedule doesn’t permit regular visits as much as I’d like. Gula will pick up the language, I’ll make sure of that. She will be useful serving the Empire.”

  “If that’s what she wants to do,” Pol said. “I thought she would be heading back to Zasos.”

  Searl smiled. “I guess that’s up to her. In the meantime, Anna will have three novices who can see inside trained to do so. Relax. Gula isn’t who you should be worried about.”

  “Shira?”

  “Heavens, no,” Searl said. “I’d be worried about whoever is stirring up your brother. It might be more than one person. The Empire needs you,” Searl said, putting his hand on Pol’s shoulder.

  “I’ve been told that before,” Pol said. He tried to get the disappointment out of his voice.

  “And you will again. You know it’s true. You have unique skills that can save us.”

  Pol shook his head and helped Searl down into the boat. “I’m just me.”

  “Yes, and an extraordinary person you are. Just calm down and let your mind work.”

  Pol nodded and stayed silent. He felt the weight of the Empire on his shoulders. He told himself that he was only one person again and again, but he knew Searl’s comment struck home. He would do what he could to protect Shira, all his friends, and his adoptive father’s subjects.

  ~

  Karo Nagoya sat in his monk’s cell. He let Pol in but pointedly did not shut the door. The man embodied fear.

  “What do you want?”

  “Answers. Shira told me some of them, but I want to hear them from you,” Pol said. “I trusted that you told me some semblance of the truth, and you violated that trust when you hit me over the head. Why?”

  The magician looked at Pol for a moment. “You returned. We expected you to. Shinkya was on the verge of being torn apart with your first appearance at Shira’s side. Our Elders felt the time had not yet come for you to arrive in Shinkya.”

  “Did you ever think to talk to me about that?”

  “Would you have agreed to stay away from Shira for four years until your maturity?”

  Pol didn’t think he would have. Karo had a point, but Pol felt like he had to disagree with the Shinkyan.

  “Why did you include Demeron in my exile?” Pol asked.

  “To help you along the way. We didn’t intend you to be shipwrecked. I just about lost my life in the ocean. We had put in at the fishing village. I had every reason to believe that you had survived. You are the Great Ancestor, and your work hadn’t even begun.”

  “Great Ancestor,” Pol said. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Am I not going to die? Does the fact that I am the last Demron make me indestructible?”

  “You are here, aren’t you? You survived the Kirian villages and fought your way out of the Kitangan Dragon Academy. Can you deny that fate placed you in Zasos at a critical time?”

  “What critical time? The Clan Lords would be gambling today if I hadn’t shown up and, nothing would have changed.”

  “Don’t you see, Pol? You did show up. Kiria is lost to foreigners, but Zasos isn’t. You saved the country. It can move on now, thanks to you and only you,
since you are uniquely qualified to have gone into the country and do what you did.”

  “What if I made everything up?”

  “You told the truth. I know it,” Karo said.

  “I did.” Pol had a sinking feeling that in some crazy way, Karo was right. The Scorpions preserved Pol to appear at a more critical time in the Empire’s fight with the Winnow Society. Heroes were often disruptors, and Pol had certainly disrupted in Zasos. He didn’t want to be a hero; he wanted Shira to live with him at Redearth, regardless of what Karo claimed. Pol had to admit he would have to return to Shinkya with Shira to eliminate any threat the Queen that might make on their future together. “I can’t thank you for what you did, but thank you for reminding me that I accomplished something positive while I wandered in Daera.”

  “Positive is right. I’ll be heading back to Redearth. I am nearly as exiled as you are. There is a Fearless Elder who will accept me. I wish you every success until we meet again.”

  “You believe that we will?”

  Karo nodded. Pol could see the conviction on his face. It made him shiver.

  ~~~

  Chapter Three

  ~

  A s soon as Pol, Shira, Ako, Akil, and Fadden left Port Mancus, Pol and the two Shinkyan women assumed disguises.

  “I didn’t think I’d be able to bond with a Shinkyan,” Fadden said. “Hunter is a good match for me. He’s a little older and a little slower, but that works, since so am I.” He leaned over and patted Hunter on the neck, “Doesn’t it boy?”

  Hunter nodded his head.

  “What about you Akil?”

  “I’ve never ridden such a noble beast,” the Zasosian said in his native tongue.

  “He doesn’t have a name,” Pol said.

  “How about ‘gold’ in Zasosian?” Akil said.

  “Ziirn?” Pol said. “What does Akil’s horse think, Demeron?”

  He doesn’t care. He accepts Ziirn. Gold, eh? It certainly fits combining his color with the origin of his companion.

  “Ziirn it is,” Pol said, as he switched to Eastrilian. “We have Demeron, Amble, Hunter, Ziirn and Sunflower, Ako’s horse.”

  Shira laughed. “I thought you didn’t remember the horse’s name.”

  Pol lifted his chin. “It helps to have a good friend beneath you.”

  Demeron lifted his nose and whinnied.

  “So there are ten of us heading to Yastan. The thieves have become emboldened since we last passed through the Spines,” Fadden said. “How are you with a sword, Akil?” Pol translated.

  Akil looked at Pol and pointed to him.

  Pol grinned. “I taught him all he knows.”

  “Did you get a chance to improve?” Fadden said.

  “I became an assistant sword master at the Kitanga Dragon Academy. Akil was one of the pupils, but the sword master did most of the teaching,” Pol said.

  “And I would imagine you developed your skills well enough to defeat the sword master?”

  “There is that,” Pol said. “I got more practice than I wanted. The students were not enough for the Dragons, the police force in Kiria, so I had to fight the Dragons after awhile, and that was my downfall. I had to fight Dragons who didn’t come to spar but to either kill me or trap me.”

  “I assume you were trapped?”

  Pol had to smile. “I’m here, aren’t I? The Dragons convened a court to determine if I had unlawfully hurt one of their own in a sparring match, but they had already made a decision. They kicked me out of the Academy. As it turns out, that forced me to Deftnis that much quicker.”

  “And you honed your non-magical sword skills, as I thought you would.”

  Pol had to nod his head. “If I ever lose my magic again, I can do a serviceable job of defending myself. I even learned how to shoot a bow and arrow,” he said, pointing to the short bow that Demeron carried.

  “I wondered why you brought that,” Shira said. “We will have to have a match.”

  “How can I be as good as you?”

  Shira glared at him. “I want to take my measure against you. No magic.”

  Pol shook his head. “No magic.”

  ~

  They decided to skirt around the Duchy of Sand’s capital, so they spent the night in a wood at a well-traveled campground.

  Shira didn’t want to wait to find out Pol’s new expertise with a bow and arrow. Fadden carved a circle out of the bark on a tree, leaving a small circle as a bulls-eye.

  “Don’t waste too many arrows, Pol,” he said.

  Pol watched as Shira put three arrows within a thumb’s width of the bulls-eye.

  “I can’t match that,” Pol said, putting down his bow.

  “Humor me,” Shira said. “Try your hardest.”

  Pol nodded. “I will do as you command.” He didn’t want to compete with Shira, but she had issued a challenge, and he would follow through.

  He shot and the first arrow was right in the middle. His second and third arrows shattered against the first, with none hitting the tree.

  “Tell me I didn’t see that,” Shira said.

  “You didn’t see that,” Pol said. “I guess we’re done. Nice victory.”

  She looked at Pol through narrowed eyes. “You didn’t use magic?”

  “Do you want me to shoot more? Stand behind me and watch the path of the arrow to see if I corrected the flight.”

  “I’ll do it. Go back to the other side of the clearing.”

  Pol shrugged.

  She stood right behind him and watched him do the same thing again with the second arrow, but the third arrow slipped to the side of the first.

  “Time for me,” she said.

  “The tree is too chewed up,” Pol said. “You won.”

  She grunted and pushed Pol out of the way after Fadden cleaned up the target. Pol stood behind her, just as she did to him.

  She was close, but one arrow hit the edge of the bulls-eye. Shira threw down her bow.

  “How did you get so good so quickly?”

  Pol picked up her bow and gave it to her. “I had a couple of nomad experts show me how to use ‘the flow’ to shoot. They said I fought with myself,” he shrugged, “and I did.”

  “The flow? Can you teach me? It is rhythm, right? I learned that, but you’ve mastered it.”

  “I’d be happy to, but I’m hungry and want something to eat. Maybe another stop.”

  While they ate their cold rations, Ako, Fadden, and Akil kept smiling at them. Even Akil knew what had just gone on, even though Pol didn’t think Akil understood more than a few words of the conversation.

  Pol stood. “I am pleased to provide you with such wonderful entertainment on our way to Yastan,” he said, as he headed into the bushes. Shira rose to follow him, but Pol smiled and shook his head. There were snickers from the three this time.

  Shira sat hard on the ground and folded her arms, but then Pol heard her say to the others, “I’ve been waiting to banter with Pol, and I am utterly thrilled.”

  He returned to another glare, but it was clear Shira played him. He decided he was thrilled, too.

  ~

  They reached Rocky Ridge after dark. Pol led them to his favorite inn. The same woman kept the inn, still.

  “Rooms for five?” Pol said.

  “Been here before?”

  All of them shook their heads.

  “Three rooms, the women share, two men share, and I suppose you can flip for the other. All have two beds apiece. No singles are left.”

  “Dinner and breakfast included?”

  The woman nodded. “Baths are extra.”

  “Baths,” Ako and Shira said simultaneously.

  Pol paid and took the single room for himself.

  After everyone had a chance to bathe, they sat down to the best the inn had to offer. Dinner tasted wonderful to Pol. He liked Imperial food, best of all.

  After dinner, Akil got Eastrilian lessons from the other four before they retired. Pol heard a knock on the door not too
much longer after they all retired.

  “Ako kicked me out,” Shira said. “I can’t imagine why.”

  Pol could, and he strongly suspected that Shira did, too.

  “Are you telling me that Akil is going to end up with the single room?”

  “I promise I won’t attack you, or anything.”

  “Good,and I’ll vow the same.”

  Shira looked a little disappointed. Pol thought she could stay disappointed. He didn’t want to face anything unforeseen until they were married and at Redearth.

  “Can we talk?”

  “About what?” Pol said, curious about what Shira would come up with. He couldn’t describe how much he enjoyed just talking with his girl.

  “Is the Emperor going to demand that you live in Yastan?”

  “Does that matter to you?”

  She nodded her head and sat down next to him on his bed. She put her head on his shoulder and took his hand. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “I can’t promise that, but I can say I will do everything I can to return if we are separated. I returned from Daera, didn’t I?”

  She sighed. “I knew you would. It was just a matter of time, a long, long time.”

  Pol stroked her hair. “The Empire has already broken apart,” he said. “I can’t promise you that I can put it together. I do know that we have to defeat Grostin’s army in the East to preserve our duchy.”

  She looked up at him. “You said our duchy.”

  “Did I?” Pol said smiling. “I meant it. You’ve already put your stamp on it, and I haven’t even made a footprint.”

  “Paki will take care of it,” Shira said.

  “And Darrol and General Axe and the Fearless Elder Harona, right?”

  “And Captain Corior.”

  Pol paused. “Should I be worried about Captain Corior?”

  “Not at all. I’m in love with Pentor.”

  “My steward?” Pol said.

  “Our steward, remember? He’s probably fifty or sixty.”

  “Sixty, then,” Pol said. “Fat, bald, and creaky.”

  “He is fit and has iron gray hair, but he’s already taken. His wife’s name is Annet.”