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

  He shrugged again. “Maybe half of it, maybe more. I didn’t pay a lot of attention. I was surprised I could do it at all.” He looked at his questioner. “Sir,”

  “Show me,” the monk said and put a coin on a grid.

  Paki narrowed his eyes in concentration and must have moved the penny, but Pol was too far away to see.

  “Good. We generally don’t take anyone into our order below the age of sixteen, but you were recommended as a companion for Poldon Fairfield. Welcome to Deftnis,” the Abbot said. “Quarter of a penny-width,” the Abbot said to Pol.

  Pol felt his face burn with embarrassment. Had he looked too eager to see his friend’s result?

  “You may sit in the hall, Horstel,” the monk with the ink-stained hands said while he scribbled on a paper. “Pol Cissert. You may stand where your friend did.”

  Pol looked behind him as Paki gave Pol a thumbs-up and closed the door behind him.

  “You represent a conundrum. Do you know what that word means?”

  Pol nodded. “I have a good vocabulary, sir. It means I am a hard-to-solve problem.”

  “Good. Tell us what spells you know,” the Abbot said.

  After thinking for a few moments, Pol let them know what he had done. He didn’t call them all spells, but he thought the men might want to know the times he had ‘tweaked’ the pattern.

  “Third Level, or even more if he had stamina,” one of the monks said.

  “What is a third level?” Pol said. He had heard Malden say something about third level something or other.

  “Multidimensional levitation is a key element. Levels are determined by a basket of capabilities, if you will. Not all magicians have equal abilities in the same spells. They may be better than their peers at one spell, but worse with others,” the monk he had moved said. “What spells do you have trouble with?”

  “I can do location spells without losing strength and I can anticipate moves with sips of magic in a sparring match. If I move large objects, I can faint. You saw that in the courtyard yesterday. I didn’t faint, but if I had done anything else or moved you for longer, I would have.”

  “Malden Gastoria mentioned that you have discovered spells on your own?” The last monk to ask him a question just did again.

  “I think I made myself invisible. I have no way to verify it,” Pol said shrugging. “It’s a matter of thinking of a pattern and then tweaking it. That’s the term Malden used.”

  “It is the acceptable term among magicians,” the monk said. “More spells?”

  “I figured out how to enhance hearing. I was eavesdropping on my mother.” Pol took a deep breath and pressed his lips together to avoid getting emotional about his late mother. “I remembered learning about sounds bouncing in a room, and then expanded the pattern to my ears.”

  “It worked?”

  Pol nodded. “Yes, sir. I can’t say I heard things perfectly, but well enough.”

  “Well enough,” the Abbott snorted. “Tell me about patterns and magic.”

  “On a basic level, magic is about detecting patterns and the corresponding ability to tweak the patterns. That means to use your powers to change the pattern. Val taught me—”

  “Val?” one of the monks said.

  “Valiso Gasibli. He called me Pol and I called him Val. He taught me to use patterns in non-magical ways. We solved some mysteries together.”

  “As Seekers?” the Abbot said.

  “Like Seekers,” Pol said, nodding. “He was my bodyguard, and we spent a lot of time together in the summer months.”

  “How long have you been studying magic?” one of the monks asked.

  “Since late spring,” Pol said.

  Pol didn’t know why, but the monks looked impressed.

  The Abbot nodded. “It’s all here.” He pointed again to Malden’s letter. “You may go. Welcome to Deftnis. I am sure you will find your experience here illuminating. We are aware of your physical limitations, and once things have settled down, you’ll be under the treatment of our Healers.”

  Pol bowed to them. “Thank you for accepting me.” He turned and left to find Paki looking out one of the windows lining the corridor.

  “Gorm said we should return to our rooms and unpack our things.”

  The two of them found their beds and pulled their packs out and emptied them into the wardrobes that stood on the right side of each bed. Keys had been inserted in the locks while they were gone. On the chain that held the key was an amulet depicting a braided circle behind a symbol of fire surrounding a sword. Pol noticed the device elsewhere around Deftnis.

  He began to fold his soiled clothes and put it into the wardrobe. Gorm walked by. “Only clean things go in there. You’ll find a place to wash your clothes and a clothesline through the corridor.” Gorm pointed towards the back door that they hadn’t yet used.

  Everything that Pol possessed was dirty, but he would have to wait to wash the clothes that he had on tomorrow. Paki groaned, but Pol just shook his head.

  He rarely had to personally wash anything until his days-long trip north to the Taridan border weeks past. It seemed like the time he spent in North Salvan was a long time ago rather than just weeks. Pol wouldn’t mind getting used to fending for himself now that he was out of danger; in fact, as Pol Cissert, he had to learn how to be independent.

  He had no desire to return to Borstall Castle and constantly avoid his murderous siblings—no longer siblings, since he now knew they weren’t related by blood. The revelation from his mother, that King Colvin wasn’t his real father, shocked him, but now that she had died, he had accepted the fact that he was truly an orphan. Pol didn’t feel sorry for himself. He had to learn what he could and accept as much time as he had left to fulfill his life.

  If the gods wanted him to avenge the death of his mother, the opportunity would come. If it didn’t, Pol might feel disappointed, but he was grateful for the very fact that he could feel the disappointment.

  The pair of them returned from washing and hanging their clothes to complete their unpacking. Two robes had been placed on both of their beds. Paki’s had a white rope belt, and Pol’s was orange.

  I’ll be wearing clothes under that,” Paki said. “It’s wool, and it’s scratchy.”

  Pol rubbed the material. He agreed with Paki’s decision. Pol had never worn anything so uncomfortable, but then he currently lived in a strange place compared to Borstall Castle.

  He plunged his hand to the bottom of his pack and felt the bag of books that Malden had given him. He noticed a ledge above the back of his bed that could be used as a bookshelf and looked around the room and saw that the other magic acolytes had books on their ledges. He heaved the bag onto his bed and pulled out the sack. He hadn’t touched it after Val had repacked his things for their trip.

  Pol gently shook the contents onto his bed. He found a book on magic spells and another book on patterns, but as he thumbed through them, it looked like he knew most of what was written. His notebook on religions had been included, but Pol didn’t know why Malden would have included that unless Mistress Farthia had made him do it. Another book talked about herbs.

  What intrigued him was a large pouch. He vaguely remembered Malden putting it in the sack during the burning of his mother’s funeral pyre. He opened the pouch and poured the contents onto his bed.

  Paki whistled. “Your mother’s jewelry, I’ll bet.”

  Pol examined the items piece by piece. “I never saw her wear some of these, and others have stories that Mother used to tell me over and over. I think all of these came from Listya.” He ran his hands over the worn items, knowing that his mother had done the same.

  Pol treasured the amulet that his mother had given him when she told him of his heritage and his real father, Cissert. He didn’t know if he could believe that he had shared ancestors from an alien race that gave his mother and him silvery hair, and his father and him a bad heart. He fingered the amulet underneath his shirt and wondered at the value of the
gold, silver, and jewels that lay before him. He quickly bundled it back up and tossed it in the back corner of his wardrobe.

  “Pretend you never saw this, okay?” Pol said to Paki. “I don’t want anyone to know about these.”

  “Those are worth a lot, Pol. It would tempt anyone, except me, of course.”

  “Of course,” Pol said. “Look at these books. He tossed the herb book, which looked pretty new, to Paki. “Do you know these?”

  Paki thumbed through the illustrated pages. “Lots of pictures. This is an expensive book.” He spent a bit more time looking at it. “I know a few of them, and there are a bunch I’ve never seen before,” Paki said.

  “If you want to learn healing, I guess this is part of it.”

  “I want to be a scout.” Paki said, putting the book on Pol’s bookshelf.

  “I want to be a Seeker,” Pol said. “Less muscle, more brain.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Pol smiled. “I will, if they let me.”

  ~

  Pol and Paki wandered around the monastery after their testing. Gorm had told them there would be nothing more today, but the boys would be evaluated for specialties tomorrow. They passed by the stables, but their horses had not yet arrived on the barge, since the seas were still too rough. They helped the stable master groom horses. Paki asked about gardens, but there were no ornamental gardens in the monastery, and the healers liked to tend to their herbs without outside help.

  They washed the clothes they hadn’t wash the day before, and when dinnertime finally came, the boys drifted over to the commissary. A few more acolytes seemed to be present. Gorm had told them that classes wouldn’t start until after the harvest break that took place during the last month of summer and the first two weeks of fall.

  Pol had never thought about harvests before, but it made sense to him. Families might be willing to give up their sons to the monastery, but harvest time needed as many helpers as possible, and the monastery understood that. He wondered about those who lived far away from Deftnis, but perhaps a lot of acolytes and monks might just take the time to get away from Deftnis Isle for a bit.

  The food was as good as the previous evening. Pol remembered reading about religious orders where the members endured severe diets as part of their worship. He didn’t have to worry about such a thing in a monastery that was pledged to arms and magic. Both disciplines required strong bodies. Pol would endure as long as he could until his own body gave out.

  Even though they didn’t have any reason to, the boys got up at dawn and rushed over to the commissary. A monk they hadn’t met before gathered the boys and showed them to the armory. They hadn’t made it around to the back of the castle on the previous day. The armory and other buildings sat in the back. Pol noticed that an open gate led outside the castle down to practice grounds.

  They waited for some time before an old monk called them over.

  “Pakkingail and Pol?”

  “He’s Paki, and I’m Pol,” Pol said to the man.

  “You can call me Edgebare. or Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir Edgebare,” Paki said, giving the man a bow.

  The monk laughed. “Paki, right?” He pointed at Paki. “What arms specialty are you interested in?”

  “I want to be a scout,” Paki said.

  “Swords and Archery,” Edgebare said. “Archery is not my area, but you should also learn Seeking and Survival.”

  “Seeking!” Paki said, grinning.

  Edgebare grunted. “You won’t be so happy after you’ve been in training for a few months. What about you, Pol?”

  “I’m most suited to Seeking. My physical condition isn’t very good.”

  “Hmmm,” Edgebare made the sound as he rubbed his chin. “Any experience with swords?”

  “He nearly won the North Salvan tournament when the Emperor visited.”

  “Is that right?”

  Pol nodded. “For fifteen-year-olds. I can use a little magic to help boost my strength.”

  “A pattern-master, already?” Edgebare said.

  Paki furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”

  “Not all magicians can perform anticipation magic. It requires a fast mind and disciplined thinking.” The monk squinted at Pol’s belt. “A Third, eh? You anticipated to make short work of your opponents until your magic gave out?”

  Pol shook his head. “Not my magic, my strength. If I overdo things, my heart begins to pound, and I can barely breathe.”

  “We can try to fix that. It’s a shame Searl isn’t still with us.”

  “Searl?” Paki said.

  “A Master Healer. Probably the best to ever walk these grounds. He’d have you fixed soon enough. Hopefully our current crop of healers can help. If you are a pattern master, you will eventually find yourself under my tutelage for swords. You won’t have a choice. Any other weapons skills?”

  “I can throw knives.”

  “Do you use magic to guide them?”

  Pol had to think. “I don’t think so. I practiced really hard. I had, uh, challenges before I came, and I actually used the knives.”

  “Against a real person?”

  Pol nodded.

  “He’s killed with his knives before,” Paki said. “I was with him.”

  “Perhaps a story for another time. You did this in self-defense?”

  “I did. Valiso Gasibli taught me. He served as my bodyguard.”

  “Ah. That explains it. He probably flashed all of those fancy knives he owns.”

  Paki nodded. “We both had to learn how to handle them.”

  “Knives are good for Seekers, but we don’t have a Knife Master in the Monastery right now. We have a few monks who might be adequate to teach you enough skills to be dangerous, but not at Valiso’s level.” Edgebare looked at both boys. “Knives are not an especially popular specialty. We don’t encourage the training of assassins at Deftnis.”

  Pol had wondered about that. “But don’t Seekers need to learn knives?”

  “A Seeker might be in a position where wearing a sword or other weapon might not be advisable, so you need to be prepared with a defense.”

  Pol asked the question that had always bothered him. “Is Val an assassin?”

  Edgebare pursed his lips. “He has been called on to kill in the Emperor’s service. He’s not an assassin for hire, but are his hands clean?” The monk shook his head. “Valiso has his own code. I consider him an honorable man called upon to do dishonorable things.”

  That answer would have to do, thought Pol. “So swords, knives, and what else?”

  “For an undersized youth? I think what you’ve identified is enough for now. You will learn about all weapons while you are here, but when you get older and bigger. Neither of you want to become battle healers?”

  Both boys shook their heads.

  “Paki needs to learn basic magic, and I think I’ve been classified Third Level,” Pol said.

  “Third Level, and at fourteen, fifteen? You could ditch the weapons and become a magician.”

  “I have strength problems when I cast spells,” Pol said. He didn’t want to be a magician like Malden Gastoria, as much as Pol liked him as a mentor at Borstall Castle. Pol didn’t like the way Malden was always called away to talk to King Colvin, his stepfather.

  “Then do your best. I think Seeking might be a good start for a bright boy. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have a few monks here to evaluate your present skills. Don’t worry about having to decide today or even in a year. Most acolytes are with us for years and often change their specialties. That’s why you’ll be exposed to a lot of different aspects of healing, war, and magic at first.” Edgebare looked up at the sun. “Time to visit Jonness, who is both a Survival and Seeker Master, although his assistants are still out on Harvest Break. Go on, now. I’ll spread the word. You might even get some instruction in before the hordes return,” Edgebare said.

  After getting directions to find Jonness, the boys crossed the keep to a large room, but
not as large as the armory. Jonness was a tall, spare man. His head was shaved. He looked exactly like Pol imagined what a monk at a religious order looked like.

  After introductions and a conversation with each boy that was similar to Edgebare’s, Jonness took them through small gate into a wood that grew right to the castle wall. Pol had to smile. This was a larger version of the little wood where Paki’s father had taught them how to hide and walk in the forest.

  “So you’ve learned a bit?” Jonness said. “I want you both to hide. No tree climbing permitted. I’ll find you.”

  Pol had done this drill a number of times with Siggon, Paki, and even Val. He nodded and took off. Once the trees hid him from Jonness, Pol stood and soaked in the pattern of the woods. He noticed a person located to both his right and his left. That brought a smile to Pol’s face. So Jonness had observers. He watched his footsteps to make sure he didn’t leave any tracks. He moved towards the observer on the left and made sure to keep trees between both of the observers’ lines of sight.

  Pol’s senses saw that Paki had moved towards the opposite side, and that would be fine with Pol. Finally, he found the spot he sought, a dense area of the trees. He found a suitable place and stopped.

  He sat with his legs drawn up, and with his back to observers. Jonness went after Paki first. He noticed that the tall monk moved quickly. Jonness consulted with the observer on Pol’s right and found Paki.

  The three of them walked to the observer on the left and stood for a bit. Pol could imagine them conferring on Pol’s whereabouts. Pol just sat where he was, seeing the four of them wandering about the woods until Jonness spotted Pol.

  “How did you do it?”

  Pol smiled. “I cheated. I used a locator spell. I found your two observers and kept out of their sight. I found this cluster of trees and waited. I tried to imagine myself invisible to magic.”

  “No tracks,” Paki said. “I told you he was good at this.”

  “Indeed. It’s obvious I can’t locate as well as you,” Jonness said. “You wish to be a Seeker?”

  Pol shrugged. He fought off being giddy at defeating a Deftnis master. “It is something that I think I can do.”