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

  The sorting was only a first step. Since the inn seemed prosperous enough, Pol guessed that the daily tallies of cash in and cash out would be more accurate than adding receipts and bills and figuring out the inn’s financial situation from those stacks.

  It wasn’t how Pol had been taught, but he could see how the innkeeper could keep the inn working without any kind of system, until the cash ran out, of course.

  ~

  When the innkeeper inspected the office the next morning, Pol had impressed him enough that he allowed Pol to summarize the bills, receipts, and tallies. The letters were put into folders by date and placed in a locked drawer in the desk for the innkeeper’s attention at a later time.

  “I will give you three days to make the summaries. You said you wanted to take food to your grandfather, so go to the kitchen and take what you want. Any dishes or pots will have to be returned, or you’ll have to pay for them.”

  Pol spent another hour in the office reorganizing the tally sheets and left to visit Searl. He had to prepare Searl’s food in the kitchens, now that he was an employee of the inn.

  Hawker’s Cross wasn’t too far from the inn. Pol looked up at the grim building. Somehow they had found an ugly, black stone for the guard headquarters and jail, where most of the rest of Alsador used a paler stone, although now that Pol walked the city’s streets, and noticed that some buildings were cleaner than others.

  “I’m here to see Searl Hogton. He’s my grandfather, and I’ve brought him food.”

  “Brought him food, eh?” the old guard behind the desk in the busy lobby laughed. After looking at a logbook, he pointed to Pol’s left. “Take the first stairs you come to. The jail takes up the basement floor.” The man gave Pol a blue-painted token. “Give this to the guard at the bottom of the stairs.”

  Pol did as he was told. The guard at the bottom looked over Searl’s food and helped himself to a piece of bread. Pol kept quiet. All this was quite beyond his experience.

  “Aisle Seven, Cell Three. There is a guard every two aisles.”

  Pol walked to the right and saw the corridor extend the entire distance beneath the guard building. Windows set in the edges of the ceilings brought light to the corridor. There were signs every so often from One to Ten. Pol walked past alcoves between each aisle. Just past Aisle Seven, he stood at the guard station. The man who sat at the desk was talking to the guard one desk down. He looked at Pol before he sauntered back.

  “I’ve come to see my grandfather, Searl Hogton. He’s in Cell Three on Aisle Seven.”

  “Is that food?” Pol nodded. “Good. We’ve been a bit hungry today. You can leave that here. Visiting hours end in twenty minutes.”

  Pol looked as the guard began to dig into Searl’s food. “I brought that for grandfather.”

  “So?” the guard said, his mouth already full.

  Pol sighed. “I have to take the pot and utensil back.”

  “They will be waiting.”

  There were four or five other people visiting inmates. Oil lamps lit each aisle with a dim light. The smells reminded Pol of his last visit with his mother to the poorest section of Borstall. Searl sat in a corner examining his hands when Pol called out to him.

  Searl brightened and walked to the bars. “I suppose it could be worse. I imagine they could beat me on a regular basis.”

  Pol looked at Searl’s face. “Should I produce a light?”

  Searl’s face looked shocked. “Don’t do that! It would make everything worse. All I have to do is endure this for two weeks, and we can collect my daughter and be on our way. Have you made any progress today?”

  Pol shook his head. “I’ve got a new job as the innkeeper’s secretary. He needs one. I offered to work in his stables, but I told him I can write.”

  “So you haven’t found my daughter, yet?”

  “No, but I have this afternoon off and a list of healers. They can’t all be in here, can they?”

  “There are four in this cell, alone.”

  Pol quickly counted seven men of various ages joining Searl. “Evidently Queen Bythia is starting to assert herself. The healers aren’t the only ones.”

  Searl twisted his lips. “I know. It is less than useless to talk about it, especially here where there are many ears.”

  Pol knew the significance of Searl’s statement. “I brought food, but the guards took it.”

  Searl smiled without humor. “The guard who took me was able to get an additional meal for his friends.”

  “I’ll continue to bring them.” Pol looked back and saw three other guards, taking care of what he had brought Searl. “Do you get anything to eat?”

  “Enough to survive. At least we can all heal each other.”

  Pol looked at the other healers. “Are they all as good as you?”

  “We all have our unique styles of healing,” Searl said.

  That was a polite way of saying no. Pol really didn’t have anything else to say. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

  Pol went back to the street and pulled out the list of healers. Any who would have an address might know where Searl’s daughter was healing. He hoped she hadn’t tried to practice on the streets.

  All of the walking exhausted Pol. It took him three hours to visit four healers. He hadn’t brought a map, so he ended up wasting a lot of time in unnecessary travel. None had heard of either of the Lasslers.

  Pol walked into a bookstore and asked the clerk for a map of the city. He looked about the shop and decided to ask him about Searl’s kin.

  “I’m looking for a healer from Dasalt. Her husband is an ironmonger. I’ve been talking to other healers, but I found myself walking back and forth without any plan.”

  “A healer you say? Is she any good?”

  Pol didn’t know if Searl meant that his daughter was proficient. “I think so.”

  “Have you checked the Royal Infirmary?” the clerk said. His long thin fingers caressed the spine of an old leather book.

  “No, is she injured?”

  He looked at Pol with narrowed eyes, but with a sly smile. “Are you joking with me?” he giggled, and then continued. “The Queen wanted a female for her personal healer, and the infirmary didn’t have the right kind of person. The Queen recently installed a woman as her healer. If she is good, she might be the one. Perhaps she was given an offer she couldn’t refuse.”

  Pol furrowed his brow. “Does that happen here?”

  “It has since the Royal couple arrived last fall. Things are changing in Alsador very quickly.” The man waved his fingers. “Ask me no more. It is dangerous to talk. Even you might be related to the Royal Couple.” The man laughed at his little quip. Pol nearly shocked him with the truth, but he stayed quiet since he had finally gotten what he wanted.

  “How much for the map? I think I’ll be using it a lot.”

  “A silver fox will do. It’s a bit old, but most of the streets are accurate.”

  Pol paid him the right coin and left the bookstore. He had to be careful about his information. If Searl had been in the royal dungeons, Pol might have a better chance of enquiring about the Lasslers.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ~

  POL THOUGHT HE MIGHT TRY TO GET A JOB on the castle grounds. He returned to his rooms and changed into his most worn clothes and hiked up to the castle.

  As expected, guards stopped him at the gate.

  “I’m looking for work. I’m an experienced gardener,” Pol said. “I can tend stables, as well. Do you have any openings here?”

  The four men laughed at him. “Do you think any beggar can walk into the castle and get a job?”

  “I’m not a beggar. I can handle a sword, too.” He looked at the guards, trying to behave like his friend Paki would have in a similar situation.

  “That we can test,” one of them said, chuckling. “Here, you fight him.” The guard pointed at another.

  “Not me. I don’t want to bring tears to his mother’s eyes.” The
guard pulled his sword and offered it to Pol.

  Pol took the sword and tested the balance. “Come on, gentleman. A single, bloodless touch. If I win, I get inside. If I lose, I’ll go back to begging. What do you say?” He grinned at them, again playing the role of Paki.

  The beefiest of the guards took off his tabard and handed it to one of the others. “I’ll teach you a quick lesson.” The guard swept his sword back and forth. He certainly didn’t lack for power.

  Pol could move faster than he with his own sword, but the thing they had given him was heavy and unwieldy. He’d have to act the part of a pattern-master as well to get inside the castle.

  A crowd grew on both sides of the gate.

  One of the guards raised his hand. “We are teaching this urchin a lesson, here. It won’t take long.”

  The dismissiveness of the man’s tone irked Pol. He ran through a quick warm-up trying to get a feel of the sword and found its pattern. Confidence didn’t exactly flow from him, but Pol had nothing to lose.

  The two of them stood off right in the middle of the gate. They saluted each other. Pol did the vertical position and the swoosh to the side. The guard just held his blade out.

  “First touch, no blood if you can help it,” one of the guards said.

  Pol wanted this done quickly, but he still didn’t trust his new strength and played defense, using sips of magic to move the sword more quickly. The guard was good enough to keep Pol occupied, and the match extended longer than Pol wanted.

  The guard became frustrated and began to use more force. That gave Pol more holes, so he quickly slapped the flat part of his sword against the guard’s elbow after one of his more wild swipes. The guard’s sword clattered to the cobbles.

  Pol backed away, breathing hard, but his heart hardly beat. He couldn’t help but smile, but the guard glared at Pol and threw a punch, which Pol hadn’t expected, as his jaw exploded in pain. Then the guard hit with his other fist, right in his cheek, and that put Pol on the ground. The guard continued to punch him until other guards pulled him up.

  The guard stood over Pol with fists clenched. Pol couldn’t get up as his vision began to whirl before he blacked out.

  ~

  “Oh, you are awake.”

  Pol looked up at a woman dressed in a white healer’s robe. “I am,” he said, mumbling through a swollen jaw.

  The healer smiled.

  “Did you really beat a guard?”

  “He wasn’t happy about it.” Every word hurt. “Then he beat me.”

  Pol put his hand up to his cheek. He couldn’t see well out of his right eye. The lower left side of his face seemed to be numb. “Is my face swollen?”

  The healer giggled. “You might say that. Your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.”

  “I think I have a concussion, don’t I?”

  That stopped the healer’s giggle. “You know what a concussion is?”

  “I do. I’ve been injured before.”

  “And did healers treat you? You aren’t an urchin, are you?”

  “No. May I ask what your name is?”

  “Yes.” The woman smiled at her little joke.

  Pol rolled his eyes, but the pain in his right eye stopped him. “What is your name?”

  “Anna Lassler. I am the Queen’s personal healer, but she doesn’t need healing most days, so I spend the rest of my time treating adolescents who fight the King’s Guards.”

  “What is Mansen doing these days?” Pol said. He couldn’t quite keep the giddiness out of his voice. If he had to get his face pulverized to find Searl’s daughter, it was well worth it…once.

  Pol smiled at the shock in Anna’s face. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “A friend of Searl Hogton. I tried to get a job in the castle to see if you were here.”

  Pol heard a commotion enter the room. Bythia rushed in with four ladies-in-waiting right behind her. His breathing stopped. He looked for an exit but couldn’t find one. His eyes locked with Bythia, his brother’s wife. How would he ever survive? Pol was totally defenseless.

  Bythia’s eyes shifted from his to Searl’s daughter. “Anna, I don’t like you treating other patients. I’ve told you that before.” Bythia looked at Pol, again. “You are treating riff-raff? How did that thing get in here? You are not to touch another patient other than me from here on out. Come with me.” Bythia left the room without hearing Anna’s response.

  “Where can Mansen find you?” she whispered to Pol.

  “The Turning Wheel Inn.” Pol said to Anna before she hurried out.

  Another healer told Pol to leave the Infirmary. “Sorry, the Queen’s orders,” he said.

  Pol understood. He had a new understanding of the kind of person his brother had married. She had not exhibited this kind of abominable behavior when he had first met her in Borstall Castle. He was never so happy that his features were unrecognizable.

  The healer gave him some pain powders as he walked out. “Take it easy for a few days,” he said.

  Pol nodded and made his way to the gate.

  The guards’ attitude had changed when Pol left the castle. They smiled at him, and one of the guards walked up to Pol. “Our Captain would like to meet you.” He shoved a message in Pol’s hands. “Ossie shouldn’t have beat you with his fists.”

  Pol mumbled his thanks and continued on towards the inn. He told the innkeeper he would have to have the day off. Pol went into the kitchen and asked for an early dinner to take up to his room.

  He sat down and put his head on the table. He remembered the medicine and took it before he unfolded the message the guard had given him.

  Bring this message to my office in the castle when you’ve recovered.

  I might have use for a boy who can swing a sword.

  Regent Tamio

  Captain of the Guard

  Pol held onto the message for a moment. He had a safe job with the innkeeper, but he wondered what good that would do him now that he had located Searl’s daughter. She lived in the castle, under the tight watch of Bythia. Anna seemed to be as much a prisoner as her father. If he could get on with the Guard, Pol stood a chance of seeing her again.

  It hurt to chew, but Pol managed as best he could. The numbness in his jaw began to wear off, despite the medicine. He lay down, prepared to spend a fitful night.

  ~

  Pol stayed in bed for much of the next day. In the evening he worked on the innkeeper’s files.

  Someone knocked on the office door. It couldn’t be the innkeeper, since he would just walk in. Pol got up from the desk to see who was there.

  “You know my Anna?” a good-sized man with big hands said.

  “Mansen Lassler?”

  “I am.”

  “I am a friend of Searl’s. Come in. My name is Po—, I mean Aron Morfess.”

  Mansen poked his head in the door and looked at the office. “You work for the innkeeper?”

  “For now,” Pol said.

  “How did you find us?” Mansen said as he sat down on a visitor’s chair.

  “You really want to know? We went to—”

  Mansen’s eyes grew large. “Searl is here? How did that happen?”

  Pol sat back. “Maybe I can answer one question at a time.”

  The big man smiled. “Go ahead.”

  We went to your old house in Dasalt and learned you had come here. That didn’t work out very well, did it?”

  Mansen shook his head. “I took some bad advice. Alsador already has too many people in my line of work.”

  “We found that out. So Searl thought we’d become street healers and get information about Anna. If you weren’t working, then she would likely be earning some money healing.”

  “My Anna did too well. After a few weeks, she gathered a good number of patients. Most of the street healers in Alsador are charlatans. Queen Bythia wanted her own personal healer and took her right off the streets. She finally got a message out to me, and now we both work for Listya. I’m working in
the royal blacksmith’s as an apprentice, after being a journeyman.”

  “So why don’t you come with Searl and me back to Deftnis?”

  “His addiction. They won’t let him back,” Mansen said.

  “He threw it off a few weeks ago,” Pol said. “That’s why he made the trip. It gave him a goal to get sober.”

  “If you were the one to help him, may the gods bless you. He’s to be a grandfather, you know.”

  “Searl? He didn’t tell me.”

  “He has no idea. My Anna just found out last week. Where is Searl?”

  Pol ran his tongue against his cheek. “He’s in the Hawker’s Cross jail. They imprisoned him for healing on the streets.”

  “Oh, that. It’s part of King Landon’s money grab,” Mansen said. “Can I visit him?”

  “Visiting hours are the two hours around noon.”

  Mansen clutched his fists. “I’ll make some time and see him tomorrow.”

  “Good. I won’t be showing up until the day after. My face…”

  Mansen smiled. “Anna told me.” He pulled out a bag and gave it to Pol. “This is better pain medicine that what the healers would have given you at the infirmary.” Mansen rose to his feet. “I have to get back.”

  “How can we get in touch with you?”

  “Send any messages to me in care of the royal blacksmiths, for now. Anything sent to Anna will just get read by the Queen’s creatures. She has plenty of them. Most of the leadership of the City Guard are South Salvans.”

  “What about Regent Tamio?”

  “Except for him. Tamio is legendary in Listya; the people wouldn’t stand for a new man in his position. He’s a pattern-master.”

  ~

  Pol waited for visiting hours to start. His face had begun to look more normal, but large purple splotches still dominated his shrinking features.

  He brought food again, and, like last time, it didn’t make it to Searl. When the monk appeared at the bars, Pol brought out a waxed-paper packet containing a small, fresh loaf of bread that was buttered.