The Sleeping God (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 4) Read online

  “How widespread is this?” Paki said.

  “It’s better that you assume that is the case all over Volia,” Namion said. “We were just about to get into that when Shira rode up.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said there are lots of pretty girls with exotic appeal where we are going. There hasn’t been the mixing of different peoples in Volia like the Baccusol Empire, so people in each country have more of a distinctive appearance. That’s in general, of course, but even though it’s acceptable to look, it’s generally not acceptable to touch,” Namion said.

  Paki looked crestfallen. Kell laughed. “Looking is good enough for me. You’ll just have to watch yourself. Since Pol will incur the wrath of Shira if he strays, I’ll have to take it upon myself to keep you in check.”

  Paki narrowed his eyes at Kell. “Just wait. You’ll find yourself enthralled by some woman, and I’ll have to save you.”

  “Fat chance,” Kell said. “You keep me from gambling too much, and I’ll protect you from the hordes of women who will be clamoring for your attention.”

  Paki broke into a grin. “Deal. Now, we’ll likely both get into trouble from losing too much money and initiating too much intimate contact with girls.”

  “Misery loves company,” Pol said.

  “I’m still a bit miserable,” Shira said quietly to Pol. She put out her hand again to Pol. “I’ll protect you from drink, if you’ll protect me from being assaulted by Paki,” she said bit louder.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Paki said. “You’re not my type.”

  Shira pursed her lips. “And what is my type?”

  “A magician whose ability far exceeds mine, with a sharp tongue and a boyfriend even more powerful than she.”

  Shira squeezed Pol’s hand. “Are you more powerful than I am?”

  Pol gasped inside. This was another of those questions where the answer brought peril. “I yield to your overwhelming feminine power.”

  Shira yanked her hand back. “You are right about that.”

  Pol noticed his friends ahead of them shaking with silent laughter.

  ~

  Paki looked up and down the road they traveled. “My bottom is very sore. Why didn’t we take a carriage?”

  Namion lifted his chin. “That’s because outside of cities and towns, a carriage is an indicator of wealth, and bandits are drawn to them. When a carriage passes, notice how many armed men accompany it.”

  “Is South Parsimol a lawless place?” Kell said.

  “Volia, as a whole, is more dangerous than the Baccusol Empire.”

  Shira glanced back at Namion, and then turned to Pol. “I wouldn’t consider Borstall safe,” she told Pol quietly.

  Pol had to agree. He had lived the life of the youngest royal sibling, and now as a disinherited prince, he had never felt safe except when he stayed at Deftnis Monastery. Even there, he had been assaulted.

  “For that reason we will be staying at inns all the way to Demina, the capital city. It’s not a good idea to travel cross-country.”

  Pol moved a little closer from the back of their group. “But what about Port Molla? It seemed safe enough to me.”

  “Trade,” Namion said. “It is an island of safety, along with Demina and the major border town of Voerra. Without Port Molla, the Pastor loses a large portion of his revenue. Namion looked ahead. “We have visitors.” He kicked his horse in the ribs to rush forward towards a group of ten men wearing bits and pieces of uniforms just riding into view from around a hill. Pol wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but he didn’t need to know the language very well to know they weren’t overly friendly.

  After riding back, Namion clapped his hand on Pol’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. I know these men. I arranged for them to accompany us the rest of the way to Demina.”

  Pol glanced at the men ahead of them. They didn’t look like guards, but then what did he know about South Parsimol? He grudgingly accepted the fact that they would have to rely on Namion’s judgement. “Why do they look like ruffians?” he said.

  Namion laughed. “Because they are! Normally we would be fighting them to keep all our possessions, but they are members of an underground group that I have ties to. It wouldn’t be a good thing for you to talk to them. You might get an ugly perspective of South Parsimol and the Pastor who rules it.”

  Pol found himself leery as the riders took up positions to the front and rear of them. Namion didn’t look concerned, so he forced himself to relax. For the first time since escaping Borstall, Pol wondered if a tour of Volia made sense.

  His friends seemed to echo his unease as their new companions stifled their conversation, so they silently rode through the countryside. Namion’s suggestion of not talking to them would be heeded.

  The fields were mostly fallow, looking forward to a winter’s rest. “We’ll need warmer clothes,” Pol said to Shira.

  “I’m all for that. I was barely warm enough on the ship, but then I could walk around wrapped in a blanket. Does it snow in South Parsimol? It looks much the same as North Salvan,” Shira said.

  “We’ll ask Namion at our next stop,” Pol said.

  ~

  They approached a town. The walls looked more formidable than Borstall’s. There were no buildings outside the walls and Pol wondered if that supported Namion’s claim that the countryside was unsafe.

  Pol could see Namion pay the riders, who left them at the city gate and rode off.

  “They will join us on the other side of town in the morning.”

  Namion slipped a few coins into the guards’ hands as they entered the town. From what Pol could tell, the town’s name translated into Tree Town, but he couldn’t see many trees outside the city. When they rode further towards the center of town, Pol understood the name. Parks filled with trees seemed to be on every other block. The formal layout of the town, with its straight streets, surprised him.

  “Why is this town’s layout so organized?” Pol asked Namion.

  “Religion. A sect of Heraldists started Tree Town. Do you know what they are?”

  Pol nodded. “It’s practiced in a few countries of the Empire. They look forward to the appearance of a Herald who will usher in a new dynasty. There always seems to be the desire for gods to rule the people,” Pol said. “The particular new dynasty will be ordered and plant lots of trees?”

  Namion nodded. “That’s right. Paki needs to be particularly careful in this town. There is no better-run place in all of South Parsimol than this one. The Pastor, who is the head of the South Parsimol state, refuses to visit Tree Town. If we keep to ourselves at the traveler’s inn, we will be just fine.”

  “I see the guards are not above bribery,” Shira said. Without the repartee that had taken place before the escort arrived, she seemed to have sunk back into a silent, pensive mood.

  “Money is considered sinful. It is always passed as unobtrusively as possible. Local custom,” Namion said.

  Pol blinked at the revelation. He hadn’t thought of such minor cultural differences. Spending habits, he thought. What else could trip them up? Riding unprotected, hiding monetary transactions, what else would they miss without a guide? He had approached the trip to Fassin like a trip within the Empire, but it had quickly turned into a more serious venture.

  He sat up straighter in his saddle. The Emperor wanted him to get some breadth, and Pol would have to face his tour as an education that would not be the pleasant trip he had always imagined. His Seeker eyes began to look differently at the people and the buildings. The streets were swept, and the buildings looked better-maintained than at Port Molla. The Heraldists had incorporated discipline into their lives, but if the Pastor avoided the town, there had to be a reason.

  Namion stopped in front of a modest inn that didn’t bear a sign and dismounted. Pol didn’t see a door leading inside.

  “We’ll take our horses around to the stable. The citizens aren’t happy to have to provide a place for strangers in their
town, but it is a national regulation. You’ll notice that it isn’t named. That is not an oversight,” Namion said as he led his horse through a gate on the right side of the inn.

  As soon as they entered the stable yard, three boys ran up to take their horses. Namion turned away from the inn and gave them each a coin, slipping it into their palms while they looked away. Namion, Paki, and Kell were given their saddlebags. Pol and Shira followed the boys to the stalls and removed their saddlebags themselves. The boys stared at them as walked through the side door of the inn.

  Pol noticed a few patrons sitting at tables in the common room. It didn’t look like a drinking establishment to him. Namion was just leaving the bar while a thin, older woman looked away as she slid the coins on the bar into a box.

  “Same arrangement as before,” Namion said. “Baths are included in the fee. I suggest that you take advantage of it. This will be the cleanest inn before we reach Demina,” Namion snorted. “If you want warmer cloaks, see the lady at the bar. She will give you a price, but just leave the money on the bar and walk away. It’s what the locals expect. We won’t be leaving the inn.”

  “I wanted to look around,” Paki said, whining just a bit.

  “Not here. The Tree Town fathers want you in and out as quickly as you can. The citizens won’t sell you anything and might even attack you for soiling the streets. The city has its own laws, and they are stricter than any other place in South Parsimol. The Pastor is fine with that as long as he gets his taxes,” Namion said.

  If the Emperor wanted him to have unique experiences, Pol could start in Tree Town. He might just do a little Seeking in the town when darkness fell. Was he acting too impulsively? Pol had never considered himself restless, but he still felt very unsettled by Shira’s moodiness and would ask her if she wanted to accompany him.

  They all took baths. The inn had four bathrooms. Pol guessed there weren’t more than ten guests at the inn, but he enjoyed the bath. True to Namion’s claims, the bathrooms were spotless, tiled with small white squares. The water was hot, and the soap was scented.

  Namion and Pol sat at a table for six, waiting for the others to arrive.

  “What do you think?” Namion said.

  “Everything is very presentable. You’ve stayed here before.” Pol said it as a statement.

  Namion nodded. “Presentable is a good word. Everything is perfect. Clean linens, clean, clean, clean. The food isn’t spectacular, but it is adequate, presentable, even.” He gave Pol a mild smile.

  “I’m going out tonight,” Pol said. Someone should know.

  “Why?”

  “An itch,” Pol said. “The Emperor wants me to experience things. I want to get a better feel for Tree Town. Do they practice magic?”

  Namion shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, and I don’t recommend you trespassing in the city.”

  Pol could sense more resistance than Namion’s words indicated. “I won’t enter any buildings. I just want to wander around a bit. I know how to be unobtrusive.”

  “Your invisibility spell?”

  Pol nodded.

  “It’s your funeral,” Namion said, but then he gave a grim smile that reminded Pol of Valiso Gasibli, his Seeker mentor. “I’ll expect a full description of what you observe.”

  Pol grinned. “I can do that.”

  “Do what?” Paki said as he sat down at the table with Kell.

  “Study languages in the room, while Namion sleeps,” Pol said. “Namion asked me to use a dim magician’s light.” He glanced at Namion, who gave Pol an even, appraising look in return.

  “You and your studies. Always on the prowl for information, you Seeker,” Paki said.

  “I might ask you to tutor me on Parsimolian once we’re on the road,” Kell said. “I felt uneasy that I had little ability to talk to our escorts today.”

  “You’re going to have to get used to that,” Namion said. “It might be months before you hear someone speak Eastrilian.”

  A notably unattractive girl walked up to the table the minute Shira sat down and took their orders. “It will be a while to cook your meals. Do you want some ale or wine?”

  Pol could understand most of what she said as Namion translated her words.

  “Ale!” Kell said.

  “Me, too,” Paki said.

  Namion peered at Pol and Shira. “Ale for me and wine for these two.”

  Shira smiled back at Namion. “Thank you.”

  Pol remained silent. He observed the innkeeper wiping glasses at the bar. “I’ll buy us cloaks,” he said to Shira. “What about you two?” Pol looked at Kell and Paki.

  “I’m good,” Paki said. Kell nodded his agreement.

  He rose from his seat and walked to the bar. The woman ignored Pol until she had finished with her glass. Pol looked forward to speaking in Parsimolian.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “The girl and I would like thicker cloaks. Our guide says we can’t go out and acquire them ourselves.”

  The woman’s eyes widened once she evidently puzzled out Pol’s words. “No, no. You can’t do that. Two temples each.” She glanced at Shira. Temples were silver coins. “Don’t worry about the size. I’ll have them brought up to your rooms just after breakfast tomorrow. Colors?”

  “We can choose?”

  “Limited to Black, Dark Blue, Dark Brown, and Dark Green.”

  Pol lifted his index finger. “A moment.” He strode over to Shira. “Black, Blue, Brown, or Green? All dark.”

  “Black is always fashionable,” Shira said.

  Namion put his hand on her wrist. “Not black. Green for you, Shira and Blue for Pol.” He looked up at Pol. “Black means magician in some towns and you don’t want shouting that you have power in South Parsimol.”

  “Not in Tree Town?” Pol asked.

  “I don’t know what the styles are here,” Namion said.

  “Blue for me and Green for the lady,” Pol said.

  “Lady? I don’t like her kind here.”

  “Do you get many Shinkyans staying at this inn?” Pol hoped he had spoken correctly.

  “Shinkyan? Is that what she is? I thought she was Shardian. My apologies. I don’t get many Shardians, but never a Shinkyan before.” Her eyes turned to Shira. “Now that I notice, she looks quite different. Shinkya, eh?” She looked back at Pol. “You have just learned our language?”

  Pol nodded.

  “Decent job.” She turned and went back to polishing the glasses.

  Pol pulled out four Temples and looked away as he laid them on the counter. The innkeeper ignored him and didn’t remove the money until she had finished her task.

  “She said I did a decent job speaking the language,” Pol said, hoping his observation didn’t come out like a boast.

  Namion merely nodded, but Shira gave him a smile.

  An older man walked up to the table once they had finished with their dinner. “There is a gaming room if any of you would like to play. I guarantee that Treetowners will be there.” He laughed. “We can actually play with money.”

  Namion raised his eyes to the man. “I’ll come along.” He relayed the request to the others. “Paki? Kell?”

  Kell’s eyes lit up. “Small stakes?”

  Namion translated Kell’s Eastrilian response.

  “Absolutely. It’s Tree Town, isn’t it?” the man said.

  “Pol?” Namion said. He had ignored Shira.

  “Not me,” Pol said. “Shira?”

  The man stiffened. “No women.”

  Shira understood enough Parsimolian to understand.

  “Not me,” she said in the local language. She looked at Pol. “Let’s do some language study in my room.”

  Paki gave Pol a leering grin.

  “Don’t worry,” Pol said to his friend.

  “I’m not worried,” Paki said. He pointedly looked at Shira as Kell and Namion rose to follow the man out of the common room.

  Pol watched them walk away an
d played with the scraps of food remaining on his plate. Shira reached under the table and put her hand on Pol’s leg.

  Pol smiled. “I told him not to worry.”

  “Why would he be worried?” Shira said. “That should be my role.”

  “Did he think I was contemplating doing something daring with you?”

  “In my room?” Shira’s voice went low.

  “No,” Pol said. Did he sense a trace of disappointment?

  “I want to see what Tree Town is like. I was going to do—”

  “A little Seeking?” Shira asked. Her eyes lit up.

  Pol nodded.

  “My man. You do know how to perk up a girl.” She grinned at him.

  At least he had brightened her mood. Pol wondered how many times he would have to do that during their trip. He dreaded to wonder what would happen if his melancholia ever returned. He’d have to make sure it didn’t. Pol wasn’t excited about feeling responsible for anyone.

  He had had to lead at times when he traveled with the Tesnan army in the fall, but then there were people he looked up to that would help. Pol didn’t feel he could rely on Namion to keep their spirits up, and that only brought more worry. He shook his head to clear out negative thoughts. No doubts would linger in his head tonight when Shira and he walked the streets of Tree Town.

  ~~~

  Chapter Four

  ~

  Tiny torches flickered in glass enclosures on poles. Streetlights, Pol thought. He liked them. Shira walked behind him. With the lights, he had to use his invisibility spell. Shira had her camouflage spell keeping her nearly invisible in the dark night. Clouds covered any moon in the sky.

  There were few people out, scurrying around in the cold air. A chill wind whipped at the blackened cloak that kept Pol relatively warm. He occasionally heard the clatter of Shira’s teeth when they walked slowly through the streets.

  Pol didn’t detect anything noteworthy. He had wondered what the Treetowners were hiding, but it looked like he’d be disappointed. Still, it was good to be out using his magic with Shira at his side, or in this case, right behind him.

  His location sense picked up a large group of people in a building up ahead. Shira walked beside him when they turned the corner. Rows of streetlights lit up the square in front of a large building. Peaked windows flanked double doors open to the elements. The building reminded Pol of the meeting hall at the Tesnan Monastery.