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

  “Did Mansen come?”

  Searl nodded with his mouth full.

  “He told you how I found Anna?”

  Another nod.

  Pol told the monk his complete tale, including the encounter with the bookseller.

  Searl swallowed. “That was foolish of you. What if the guard skewered you right there?”

  “With forty or fifty people looking on?” Pol shook his head. “He didn’t hesitate to make me pay for the privilege of getting the first touch.

  “Let me—”

  “No. This acts as a disguise,” Pol said. “Have you ever heard of Regent Tamio?”

  Searl nodded, his mouth full again.

  “He’s the popular Captain of the Guard at the castle. He wrote a note. He wants to talk to me.”

  “Are you going to do it?” Searl managed to say with his mouth full. “Sorry, this is the best thing I’ve eaten down here.”

  Pol looked back up the aisle at the light coming from the main corridor. “We need to find the best way to rescue your daughter and son-in-law. She can only treat the Queen and no one else.”

  “You were told you couldn’t get a position in the stables?”

  “Maybe I can work in their armory or something. If Tamio has integrity, then perhaps he will help us.”

  “Don’t plan on anyone helping us. Who knows what relative he has had to sell to maintain his position,” Searl said. “What about me?”

  “You have another ten days?”

  Searl looked away. “Some people, who were supposed to be here for days, have been locked up here for months. It’s like they put you down here and forget that you exist.”

  “I’ll find a way to handle that when the time comes,” Pol said. Searl must also know how to manipulate a lock. The problem would be getting through a corridor full of guards.

  “Thank you, Aron,” Searl said. “I wouldn’t have known I’m to be a grandaddy without you. I didn’t care about anyone but myself for so long.”

  “Well, think of yourself a little longer. We aren’t in the clear yet.”

  Pol couldn’t help but wonder if everyone couldn’t be in worse shape. Searl was in prison and his daughter was held captive, albeit in better surroundings. Pol had been beaten but might have an opportunity to work in the castle, after all. Perhaps their fortune had bottomed out.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  ~

  SEARL SEEMED THRILLED ABOUT THE PROSPECTS OF A GRANDCHILD. That made Pol smile as he walked back to the inn.

  The innkeeper came out at him waving his fists. “Your horse just about destroyed my stables!”

  “What?”

  “The city guard came by for their monthly inspection and seized the big horse. They said that he couldn’t be your property and took him to the Royal stables.”

  The innkeeper took Pol to survey the damage. Half of Demeron’s stall had been crushed.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Pol asked.

  “That was the miraculous part. For all of the horse’s wild frenzy, he struck no one.”

  Good, thought Pol. Now he had one more reason to go to the castle.

  “I’ll pay for the damage.”

  “You’d better.” The innkeeper’s amiability disappeared. “I want your double room to rent. I’ve got a small room for you, since you are an employee.”

  “But I’m paid up for another two weeks.”

  “Take it or leave it.”

  Pol ground his teeth, trying to keep his anger in check. “I’ll take the small room. I’ll pay for the stable damage, but I still want to board my grandfather’s horse and keep my cart.”

  “Everything must be paid for in advance.”

  Actually, most of it was already paid for, and the small room wouldn’t cost as much as the large one that Pol and Searl shared.

  “Fine. I’ll move our belongings now.”

  The innkeeper followed Pol to his rooms. “Two dolphins, and we are paid up for the next three weeks.”

  “Will South Salvan lions do?” Pol said.

  “They will.” The innkeeper’s lips nearly smiled. He would, since the fee was outrageous.

  Pol pulled out his purse and gave the two lions to the man. “I will fill out my own receipt at work tonight.” His six lions were now down to three, but between the weeder’s money and Pol’s, they could still live a long time in Alsador if they needed to. Pol shuddered at the thought.

  After quickly shoving their most valuable belongings into two saddlebags, Pol followed the innkeeper down to the first floor. He led him past the bathing rooms and past the corridor outside the kitchen to a set of four doors. He opened one of them with his master key.

  A small window lit up the dismal room. Two cots hugged the walls with three feet between them and with blankets and a pillow at one end. The storage room where Pol nursed Searl back to sobriety was larger. He put the saddlebags on one of the cots.

  “Where is the key?” Pol asked.

  “Come with me,” the innkeeper said.

  Pol used his magic to move the lock. The weeder money was on the other side of that door. He followed the innkeeper to his office where he gave Pol a key. Pol looked on the familiar desk and saw a receipt for the sale of one large warhorse. On his way back, the innkeeper looked nervous and for good reason. The man had betrayed Pol.

  So much for the progress Searl and he had made in Alsador. Pol went to their old room and bagged up all their possessions and returned downstairs.

  Now alerted to danger, Pol used his locator spell, there were four men hiding in one of the small rooms. The lock on the door of his tiny room showed new scratches. Some had tried to get in.

  Pol quickly entered his room and buckled on his sword and hid his knives. Now it was apparent the innkeeper moved him down here in order to rob him of all his goods. He wondered why the man hadn’t just cleaned out their rooms, but perhaps Pol’s extra attention to the door locks had been enough to thwart him.

  He opened the door and saw the four men, thugs from the streets.

  “I’m giving you fair warning. If you fight me, I won’t hold back.”

  The biggest of them laughed. “With a face like that? Did your mother beat you bloody, little tot?”

  “No, a guard did after I beat him in a duel.”

  One of the other ruffians touched the big man on the shoulder. “He must be the one who bested a castle guard.”

  “Don’t matter.” The big man rushed Pol, who thrust out his hand and blew all the men down.

  Pol took a deep breath, wondering if he would join them on the ground, but his strength held up. He began to slash at the men as they stood, and in the close quarters, he suffered two cuts, but the others lay still on the floor.

  He didn’t want to kill the men while they were down, but what was done was done. Pol bound his wounds as best he could, changed his clothes, and then took the side door out to the stable yard. He made quick work of pulling out the cart and hitching it to Searl’s horse. He loaded all their things, including Demeron’s big saddle, and left the stable and The Turning Wheel Inn.

  Once he had ridden a few blocks, Pol pulled out the old map and found the location of a boarding stable not too far away. Now he was homeless, and his job at the inn had ended. Demeron was at the castle, but Pol still had his proof of ownership signed by the Emperor.

  Pol buried most of his money in the filthy dirt of the stall where he slipped the cart. He carved a little line in one of the boards opposite of the burial place of his little hoard, thinking of what kind of pattern Val might create to protect himself in a hostile city.

  Pol had no choice but to head to the castle for a meeting with the ‘legendary’ Regent Tamio.

  ~

  The guards at the gate recognized Pol. He gave them the message from their superior. One of them grunted and took him towards a castle outbuilding, where they walked up the steps. Pol could see a practice yard through a window at the back of the building.

  He fol
lowed the guard and went through a set of double doors to an office area. Guards sat behind three desks, busy filling out paperwork or reading orders or receipts. They seemed more efficient than the innkeeper.

  “Sit,” his escort said before he spoke quietly to one of the clerks, giving him the message from Tamio. They both looked at Pol with distrust, but the guard left Pol sitting by himself.

  Pol sat for an hour and a half before a tall, straight-backed man walked purposefully through the offices and disappeared behind the Chief Guard’s door. He presumed that was Regent Tamio.

  A few minutes later, the man exited and went to one of the desks. He looked up and noticed Pol.

  “You are the boy who bested one of my guards?”

  Pol stood up straight. “I am.”

  “Come with me,” he turned and went back into his office with a parchment in his hand. He sat at his desk. “Close the door and have a seat.”

  Pol dutifully did as he was told. What a difference between Kelso Beastwell, the bearlike Chief Guard at Borstall Castle and Tamio. The Alsador Chief Guard was a cobra compared to Kelso.

  “Name?”

  “Aron Morfess of Hill Creek in Hardman.”

  “Why are you in Alsador?

  “My grandfather and I came to town. He’s a healer. He was picked up—”

  Tamio impatiently waved his hand. “I know about the new regulations.”

  “I needed work, and I thought they would pay better at the castle.”

  “Pay better for what?”

  “I’ve done gardening, and I know my way around horses.”

  “You were staying at The Turning Wheel?”

  That bit of information surprised Pol. “Yes.”

  “That Shinkyan Stallion is yours?”

  Pol began to get hot. How much could he tell this man? “Yes.”

  “Did you steal him?”

  “No.” Pol didn’t know what to do or say at this point. He went with the truth. “I have an Imperial dispensation to own the horse.”

  That brought Tamio’s eyes up. “Let me see it.”

  Pol took the leather carrier from within his shirt. He pulled out the document and handed it over. “My real name is Pol Cissert.”

  “Hmpf,” Tamio said. He stared at Pol over the document before examining it.

  “You are from Deftnis, of course.”

  How could Tamio know all of this?

  “I am.”

  “Who is your ‘grandfather’?”

  “Searl Hogton.”

  “I know of Searl. A great healer gone sour. You met him in Hardman?”

  Pol nodded. “Near Hill Creek.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “It’s his own personal business.”

  “And that personal business got him in jail for an indeterminate length of time.”

  Pol sat with his hands together. This man was so far ahead of him that Pol had nothing to say.

  “You’re a bit young for a pattern-master, aren’t you?”

  Pol shook his head. “I’m no pattern-master. I know how to anticipate, but that is only part of it.”

  That got another grunt from Tamio. “Level?”

  “I was a Red when I left the monastery.”

  How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “I want to test you, of course. I’m surprised they let you go.”

  “Personal reasons, sir.” Pol thought he’d throw in the ‘sir’. “I’m welcome to return.”

  Another grunt.

  “You’ll tell me if it’s important. I need someone for a unique position. I may be able to get your horse back to you as repayment. Are you interested?”

  “Can you free Searl?”

  “I don’t run the city guard, Pol or Aron.”

  “Call me Aron, please.”

  “Aron, then. You’ll have to find a way of getting him out on your own, or the guards might want to clear out their cells and let him go. They are rather capricious these days. I was originally trained at Deftnis. I had a falling out with the Abbot and chose to leave. Let’s go down to the practice hall. We have a private room where we can use our arts more freely.”

  Tamio got up and didn’t even ask Pol to follow, so Pol had to scramble after him. He opened a wide door into a room about twenty feet on a side. The ceiling was twelve feet or so high. Swords and long knives were mounted on a wall along with other weapons. A long table held knives and small shields.

  “Pads?”

  Pol still nursed the cuts he had received not long ago. “Pads.”

  “Good. You should be able to find a jerkin that fits.”

  They faced each other. Tamio asked for Pol to choose a thinner blade. After trying a few out, he found one that wasn’t too bad.

  “You choose well. You can’t have been at Deftnis long. I’m surprised they accepted someone as young as you.”

  Pol took a long knife along with the sword.

  “Why the long knife?” Tamio asked.

  “It helps me to parry against a larger opponent.”

  “And all of your opponents are larger.” Tamio said it as a statement. “Very well.”

  “I started last fall.”

  “And a Fourth Level? You are a prodigy.” Tamio shook his head. “I don’t know how you got in, but evidently you have connections.”

  “I admit that I do,” Pol said, “but I did earn my level.”

  Tamio nodded. “Let’s find out.”

  They both used a Deftnis-style salute. Pol didn’t know how well of a fight he’d put for a genuine pattern-master.

  For the first few moments, both of them warmed up on each other, then Pol could see Tamio about to take more than a sip of magic. It was an obvious move. He thrust, which Pol successfully parried with his sword alone, but then Tamio used his power to withdraw his sword faster than normal and then slapped Pol on the shoulder.

  Pol nodded.

  “Did you see what I just did?” Tamio said, a little surprised.

  “I didn’t think to speed up moving the blade back.”

  Tamio smiled for the first time. “Good.” He nodded and then turned his face to stone once more.

  The sparring took longer than Pol had ever been able to last. Tamio was a much superior swordsman and it showed; however, Pol was able to get two touches in during the session.

  “That is enough. What else can you do?”

  “I’m good with knives.”

  Tamio nodded. “Show me,” pointing to a worn wooden shield hung on the wall.

  “Where do you want me to hit it?”

  Tamio looked at the shield with his hand holding his chin. “Throw five knives around the edge.”

  Pol walked over to the table and took six throwing knives. He didn’t take long to throw five of the knives along the left hand edge and then the sixth in the center.

  “You use sips to do that?”

  Pol nodded. “Mostly to strengthen the throw. I can transport a blade, but it takes too much magical strength.” Pol took a seventh knife, the last one and held it in his hand, point out. He magically transported the knife next to the knife in the center.

  “I’ve never seen that before.”

  Pol could feel his magical strength diminish with the last throw, but he didn’t feel weak.

  “With good reason. I’m about out of strength.”

  Tamio nodded and looked at the knives for a while.

  “How do you feel about the Royal Couple?”

  “I’d rather not say, sir,” Pol said.

  “Then don’t. I need you to protect me.”

  That request took Pol by surprise. “You don’t seem to need any protecting.”

  “Oh, I do. I don’t serve at the Royal Couple’s command, but by the people and my allies in government. The Queen—”

  “Is putting South Salvans in leadership positions.”

  “Yes. They currently run the city guard,” Tamio said.

  “Does Landon know?”
/>   “King Landon?” Tamio corrected.

  “Does he?”

  “I don’t believe he does,” Tamio said.

  Pol had no choice but to trust the Chief Guard. If Coram was the only pattern-master in Tesna, and Searl had heard of Tamio, then perhaps he had found an ally.

  “Then I pity the King. I’ve met the Queen.”

  Another surprised look decorated Tamio’s face. “After your guard put me in the infirmary, a nice lady looked after me, but Queen Bythia showed up and took her away.”

  “Anna Lassler. The Queen has turned the woman into her own pet healer,” Tamio said.

  “I guessed as much,” Pol said. He took a breath and looked up at Tamio. “What do you want me to do?”

  “We can talk about it during lunch in my office.”

  ~

  Pol took the time to look around Regent Tamio’s surroundings. He noticed a black leather belt intertwined with a gray cord sitting on a shelf. That would be Tamio’s Deftnis ratings. The man must have played with him, even to let him get two touches in.

  “I see you’ve noticed my little play to vanity,” Tamio said, his expression back to less emotion than Valiso Gasibli.

  “Did you teach at Deftnis?”

  “For less than a year. Some are given to teach, others to perform. I perform. Who taught you anticipation magic?”

  “Malden Gastoria.”

  “Impressive. You have combined magic in your fighting. I didn’t learn that until my few years at Deftnis. Malden wouldn’t have taught you that.”

  Did everyone know the North Salvan Court Magician? Pol was amazed that Malden had accepted the position in his stepfather’s castle.

  “I picked that up on my own,” Pol said. “I’m not very strong, and used to be weaker than I am now. My knives wouldn’t penetrate wood, so I learned to give them a sip of magic in order to move faster. It works with swords as well.”

  “But you never saw anyone pull back using magic before. Interesting. That verifies that you are self-taught. Not many magicians are, since most lack the power to experiment.”

  “I lacked stamina. I used to faint after one big spell.”

  A guard knocked and brought in soup, which Pol thought an odd choice at the beginning of summer. Tamio directed Pol to sit at the conference table in the room. The soup was cold and fruity, something that he had never tasted before.