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

  “Good work. I like the bit about the cook. Go ahead and make friends. You never know when you’ll get unexpected information. I see you didn’t like Lord Greenhill.”

  “No, sir. He’s not a serious man for having financial responsibilities.”

  “Your ruling lessons are taking over. He does well enough, as long as you understand him. You handled the delivery of the message better than I would have thought. I have an errand outside the castle. There is another envelope for something I’d like you to try tonight after dinner, long after dinner.”

  Pol made another delivery, this time to the Royal Weapons maker who had a large shop outside the castle. He never thought he’d be leaving the grounds. Perhaps he could see Searl tomorrow, he thought. One of the sword makers gave Pol two new swords in shiny scabbards to return to Lord Tamio.

  Pol felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

  “Aron,” Mansen said quietly. “I didn’t expect to see you in the King’s uniform.”

  “I’m just a messenger at present. Have you been reassigned?”

  Mansen shook his head. “I work here three days a week and at the stable forge for the rest. I had a hand in making that one.” He tapped on one of the swords that Pol held.

  “Good. I’ve got to get back, but now you know where I can be found. Did you get a chance to visit Searl?”

  “Twice. He said you stopped by.”

  “I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow. I need to tell him that I am working for Regent Tamio.”

  “The Chief Guard knows him? I will let Searl know.”

  Pol waved to Mansen on his way out. He didn’t like the look on Mansen’s face when Pol dropped Tamio’s name. Pol felt like he struggled in a political web again, except there were three lives at stake, not just his mother’s. He felt a pang from her loss, like he always did when he thought of Queen Molissa. He wondered what she would think of him, playing guard in her father’s castle.

  He returned the swords to the clerk’s desk and noted that the other two desks were empty. “Dinner time?” He asked the remaining clerk.

  “You better get some. If you haven’t read the assignment that Lord Tamio gave you, do so before you eat.”

  Pol rushed to his room and took his assignment out of the envelope. He read it and sighed. He was to sneak into the castle and remove the document that he had given to Lord Greenhill earlier in the day at two in the morning.

  Now he was expected to be Tamio’s burglar. Pol wondered what kind of game Tamio played. This had to be a test. Pol would have to pass it, because he would probably need an ally in the castle.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ~

  WHEN THE MIDNIGHT BELL RANG, POL PUT ON HIS BLACK CLOTHES, and then stood in the middle of the room trying to discern a pattern. Did Tamio want Pol caught? If he did, wearing the black outfit would point him out as an interloper in the castle, so he changed into the darker gray of the dress uniform. He would also go at the edge of a respectable hour to be about the castle corridors.

  He walked out of his cell and proceeded into the castle, just as if he belonged there, and in a sense, he did as much as anyone. He found the circuitous route he had traveled before pretty empty. It wouldn’t matter to see a messenger walking purposefully through the castle’s corridors at any time of the night.

  He spied a light underneath Lord Greenhill’s office door and expanded the pattern of sound so he could hear.

  Tamio’s voice came through loud and clear. “The boy should show up in a few hours. Have your men stationed in your office. It won’t hurt for the prince to feel a little fear.”

  “He’s no prince,” Greenhill said. “I know you like your projects, but this is a dangerous line you tread.”

  “And with the boy, I will be able cross it sooner than later. Get your men stationed before much longer,” Tamio said.

  The door opened. Pol shrunk into the shadows, willing his body to match the pattern of the office. One of them extinguished a light, and Greenhill locked the door. Tamio turned and looked towards Pol, but he didn’t focus on him. Pol wondered if a magician could sense another working magic. He held his breath for as long as possible, until Tamio shook his head and walked away.

  Using his location magic, Pol determined that no one occupied the office. The locked door didn’t impede Pol. He walked in and created a small magician’s light and levitated it above the desk. Greenhill had placed the leather portfolio in the second drawer amidst other files. Pol opened the paper and saw a list of numbers and descriptions, so that must be the right document.

  He put it inside his coat and extinguished his light. He crept to the door and used his location sense to see if anyone approached. Not seeing anyone, he looked harder for any magician cloaking his presence. Nothing.

  Pol re-locked the door and walked away, just as if he was delivering a message. He passed a few guards and other late-night wanderers in the castle, and then exhaled once he was outside on castle grounds. The night was crisp for early summer, and that cooled the sweat that Pol hadn’t noticed while he was out on his mission.

  Tamio’s office was lit, so he knocked on the Chief Guard’s door.

  “Enter.”

  Pol opened the door and slipped inside. “Here is the expense portfolio,” Pol said, pulling the leather case out from his coat.

  Tamio looked surprised, and Pol didn’t think he faked his expression. “When did you take this?”

  “I came straight here. There were two men in Greenhill’s office. I couldn’t make out who they were since the lighting is a bit sparse in that part of the castle at this time of night. When they left, I unlocked the door and slipped in.”

  “You’re not wearing your black outfit. Why?”

  “This one is dark enough. I thought if I left a few hours early, no one would notice a messenger boy, but they would stop a black-clad thief.”

  Tamio smiled thinly and bobbed his head. “Good thinking. You don’t lack for initiative.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Report back in the morning. I’m sure I will have more dispatches for you to deliver.”

  Pol bowed. He still hadn’t had any kind of orientation on being a guard, and he had thought that odd before his foray, but not now. For any number of reasons, Pol agreed with Tamio that he wouldn’t be a messenger for long.

  He reached his rooms. Pol had to talk to Searl about Tamio. Anything the monk could remember would help him deal with the Chief Guard. The man intimidated Pol, to say the least, and he might, or might not, be an enemy.

  Pol remembered his mother’s words about trusting no one.

  ~

  The cook remembered Pol and gave him a large lunch to take to Searl. After putting on street clothes, Pol visited Searl in the jail. As expected, the food didn’t make it down the aisle to Searl.

  “Pol, Mansen has visited. He says you are in the castle. Is that right?”

  Pol nodded. “I’m a messenger for the Castle Guard. That’s why it’s important for me to visit. Do you know Regent Tamio?”

  “He is the Chief Guard, still?” Searl said.

  “I work directly for him. Can I trust him?”

  Searl shook his head. “He was one of the best pattern-masters Deftnis ever produced, and he knows it. Tamio was smooth and ambitious. That ambition burned so bright, and it must still motivate him. I can’t recommend him as trustworthy, only because I remember him being ruled by his own thoughts and not by anyone else. He left Deftnis not long after he earned his black swordsman’s belt.”

  Pol knew what ambition did to a man. He had personally experienced it with his step-father and his siblings. He would have to add Searl’s impression to the pattern developing on the Chief Guard. It only made Pol more wary of his situation.

  “He got me into the castle, and he’ll, willingly or not, help me get Demeron and Anna out.”

  “You play a dangerous game,” Searl said. “What if your brother or his wife recognizes you?”
r />   “Does royalty ever notice lowly servants? That is my primary disguise.”

  “But Tamio must surely know who you are.”

  Pol nodded. “He easily got it out of me, and he has told at least one other as well, but if the pattern holds up as I am beginning to picture, my identity won’t be learned by Landon.”

  “Don’t be naive, Pol. Tamio will use you for his own ends.”

  “If I am captured or killed, you can still live in Alsador after you are released and see your daughter.” Pol told Searl where he had hidden their money.

  ~

  Pol’s meeting with Searl didn’t go the way he wanted, and that disappointed him. He couldn’t afford to react to other patterns, he needed to continue to create one of his own. Pol needed to talk out his plans, but Searl didn’t seem to want to listen, so he took to the practice field and sought out Demeron in his thoughts.

  I’m still here, Demeron said.

  “I need to come up with a way to free you and Searl’s family.”

  Demeron didn’t respond immediately. I can’t help you. Even though we can talk, from where I stand, there is only so much I can do.

  The horse’s response was a surprise, and Pol realized that Demeron, for all his magnificence, always reminded him of his mental limitations. “If I ask you to break out of your stall and come to me, can you do that?”

  I could ever since they put me here, but where would I go? Demeron said.

  “I will let you know when to come to me, and we will escape from Alsador.”

  I would like that.

  “We’ll be gone from here in days, not weeks,” Pol said. His vow to Demeron sounded bold, but as Pol walked through the practice yard, he knew he would have to make it happen. He felt lonely and isolated now that he had no one he could trust in the castle. He stopped and realized that lonely and isolated were things he had to avoid. Pol dreaded falling back into the depressed state he had experienced in Deftnis. He straightened his uniform and lifted his chin. He would make something happen. If he waited weeks, so much could go wrong.

  For now, Pol still had his anonymity until Tamio and Lord Greenhill decided to let others know, but he couldn’t see how broadcasting his presence would benefit either man, if they hadn’t already. Pol thought that Tamio had big things in mind, and Pol’s role in those big things had to be kept quiet, for now.

  The capture he avoided the previous evening seemed to have been concocted to scare him. Tamio was looking to control him. Pol admitted that he was afraid, but he had been living in constant fear for a good portion of his life. He knew he could function while afraid.

  Alone, but with a firm mission in mind, Pol decided that he would frame his dilemma as a Seeker would. Regardless of his reluctance to engage his stepbrother, he would gather information, so that if a confrontation happened, Pol would have an idea how to act.

  The clerk didn’t send Pol out for any messages in the afternoon but instructed him to practice his swordsmanship. Pol found a few willing guards. He fought them enough to make the experience exercise, but he let them win.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ~

  THE NEXT MORNING, POL TOOK HIS PLACE BEHIND THE DESK waiting for his next assignment.

  Tamio poked his head out of his office. “Aron, inside.”

  Pol rose and entered Tamio’s office. “Three messages for you.”

  After checking his map, Pol nodded and was about to leave. “Lord Greenhill has a message for you after you’ve taken these.”

  “Are you expecting a reply for any of the deliveries?”

  Tamio shook his head. “No. There will be more when you return. I’ll be keeping you busy this afternoon, as well.”

  Pol bowed and left the Chief Guard’s office. He checked with one of the clerks to note his destinations on the map and left on his deliveries.

  He had to slow down as he was catching up to three women. One was Bythia. He stayed as far behind her as he could and still maintain his pace. The women stopped at a functionary’s office. Two of them proceeded onward, but Bythia remained and stepped inside.

  Pol checked his map and confirmed that she had gone into the office of one of his later deliveries. He stood in the middle of the corridor. What would Val do? Pol knew the answer. He took a seat outside the office door and sat with his face away, should Bythia come out the door unexpectedly.

  Using his hearing spell, Pol listened in on their conversation.

  “…get Landon to think that the Shinkyan horse is his to keep,” Bythia said. “Can you color the feet and the diamond so it looks like someone disguised it?”

  “My Queen, I will have it done. God’s know how dense your husband is. He’s already enamored of the beast enough as it is and visits it every day.”

  “Anything to keep his little mind occupied while I solidify South Salvan’s control of Listya,” she said.

  “We are close enough as it is, although it is too soon carry out our plan. More officers should arrive within the month. The regent kept the local lords on his side, and it might be wise to continue to placate them for a bit longer.”

  “What do we need Listyan lords for? They will eventually get in our way. I won’t let Father’s plans be delayed by the local gentry. They are little better than commoners.”

  “They do not think so, My Queen.”

  “You are too presumptuous, sir. Father appointed you as my chief advisor, but once Landon is eliminated, if you do not suit me, you will be sent packing, or worse.”

  “As you wish, My Queen.”

  Pol bent over and began coughing as he heard her footsteps get closer.

  “Do something about your coughing, boy,” she said.

  Boy? Bythia wasn’t all that older than he was. Pol made as if he cleared his throat and mumbled apologies as he heard her rush down the hall away from him.

  He stood and knocked on the door. On it was a plate with a large ‘W’.

  “Lord Wibon? A message from Lord Tamio,” he said through the door.

  “Come in.”

  Pol walked into an ornate office. Every book was ordered on the shelves. The paper and parchment on the man’s desk was set just so. The first thought Pol had was that the man had little to do other than to scheme in behalf of Bythia and her father.

  “You are new here?”

  Pol nodded. “I started yesterday. I’m still finding my way around the castle.”

  “There will be some changes soon. I’m sure you’ve noticed some already out in the city. Do a good job and you can find yourself in an ideal position.”

  Pol bowed. “Do you have a reply?”

  Wibon looked up at Pol and then back down at the letter. “Oh, this is from Regent? No, no. These are guard assignments.” The man tucked the letter into a thick portfolio that he took from a close-by shelf, and then he straightened all the pages before he put it back. Wibon made sure the portfolio wasn’t any further in or out of the shelf in comparison with the others.

  “That is all. Remember what I said.”

  Pol bowed again. “I will, sir.”

  “Lord, if you please.”

  “Of course,” Pol tried to look flustered. “Lord Wibon.” He bowed again and left the office.

  After delivering the letter, Pol consulted with his map and made his way to the other assignments. The walking gave him time to calm down after this closest call with the royal couple, yet. He didn’t know if he could be more careful, but with the new information, Pol knew that Bythia wouldn’t wait very long before doing something drastic.

  He furiously digested the disturbing information. Bythia had no love for Landon. That was plain. Indeed, it appeared she had little love for anyone, and he had once thought his oldest stepsister, Honna couldn’t be exceeded in that category. Now he had something sinister to add to Bythia’s pattern.

  Each of the other two recipients of Lord Tamio’s messages were also South Salvans. One worked for the Chamberlain in hiring castle staff and the
other was an assistant to the Royal Surveyor. Where did these men fit into Bythia’s own pattern? He would have to ponder their roles in a South Salvan-led rule.

  Pol smoothed his hair as he approached Lord Greenhill’s office. What test would this be? He stood at the snotty clerk’s desk.

  “I came to pick up a message for Lord Tamio.”

  The snide man curled his lip. “You mean Lord Regent?” He giggled. “Knock and enter. My lord is expecting you.”

  Pol quickly looked away from the sneering face and knocked.

  “Enter.”

  Greenhill stood looking out his window. Rain pattered on the glass, and that meant Pol would be getting wet when he crossed over the castle grounds to the Guard’s headquarters.

  “Ah, the messenger boy. Have a seat.”

  “I just came to pick up a letter, My Lord.”

  “Must I plead?” Greenhill said. Mockery filled his voice.

  Pol didn’t seem to have a choice. He sat and folded his hands in front of him.

  “Tamio speaks highly of you. Do you have a lofty opinion of yourself?”

  Pol looked up at Greenhill. “Not particularly. I know I have some good points and some faults, just like everyone.”

  Greenhill sat down and looked across the desk, examining his fingernails. “What are your faults?”

  Pol could feel his face get hot. The man intimidated him, and Pol could do nothing about it. “I have a temper that I sometimes cannot control, and I am naive, even for a fifteen-year-old.”

  The lord leaned over his desk towards Pol. “Naive? That is precocious self-knowledge, boy. Just how are you naive?”

  “I trust others too easily.” Pol had just about eliminated that tendency, “and I am not one for drinking nor am I comfortable around girls.”

  That brought laughter to Greenhill, and he sat back again. “I would say that you could easily be led astray, then. Do you agree?”

  “I’m only fifteen, sir.” Pol said.

  “I know some fifteen-year-olds…” Greenhill waved the comment away before he finished it.

  “What do you know about the political situation in Alsador?”