The Monk's Habit (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 2) Page 33

  Pol used his magic to switch the wine cups while Landon opened the door and looked down at the sleeping guard.

  “Fool,” Bythia said.

  Landon put his sword across the arms of another chair and picked up the cup on the side of the tray.

  “No!” Bythia said. “Drink from my hand, husband.”

  Landon grinned. “That’s more like it.” He put the wine down and sat, adjusting his clothes. “Watch how devoted my wife is,” he said. Pol hated the smug expression on his stepbrother’s face.

  Bythia took the wine from Landon’s hand and picked up the goblet in the center. She put it to his lips. “It’s sweeter this way, isn’t it?”

  Pol couldn’t believe the audacity of the woman, killing her own husband, but then she was the Queen, and she probably felt that she could do anything she wanted to.

  “Drink it all, darling.”

  Landon let her drain the cup into his mouth. Wine overflowed from his mouth and dribbled down his chin.

  “Now I’ll do the same for you.”

  Bythia’s eyes widened, but then Pol could see her smooth her face. “Of course.”

  Landon, heedless of Pol watching on, took the other goblet and laughed as Bythia drank from the cup he held. He looked over at Pol, obviously proud of himself.

  Bythia moved Landon and the goblet. She wiped her chin and put her hands on her hips.

  “He dies, and you will, too,” Bythia said, grabbing onto Landon’s sword.

  “What?” Landon said.

  “You’re a dead man. I poisoned the wine.” The cold smile directed at her husband chilled Pol.

  “No, he’s not,” Pol said. “I used my magic to switch the cups. I wanted you to know that before you began to feel the effects of the poison. I find it ironic that you poisoned my mother through a Fairfield, and I poisoned you through a Fairfield.”

  She dropped the sword and clutched her throat.

  Landon looked totally lost. “What’s happening, Poldon?”

  “Her father wants Listya for himself, and they were going to kill you tonight. She’s already put South Salvan guards in high positions. Then I suppose King Astor’s next step would be a takeover of North Salvan.”

  “No!” Landon stood. “You lie!”

  “Why would she poison herself, then?” Pol said. He tweaked the binding cords, and they fell to the ground as he stood in front of his brother.

  Bythia began to blink. She swayed on her feet and collapsed to the floor. “That wine was meant for you, Landon!” Those were her last words before her eyes rolled up into her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

  Landon put his hands to his head. “No!” he cried out.

  “There’s the proof.” Pol picked up Landon’s sword and pointed it at his brother.

  His stepbrother sat back down and cringed. Pol let Landon stew for a bit.

  “What do I do now? You’re the smart one. What do I do?” Landon begged, looking up at Pol with pleading in his eyes.

  A figure stood at the door. Regent Tamio entered the room.

  “Kill him,” he said to Pol, without emotion.

  Pol threw down the sword. “No.”

  “I order you to kill him.”

  Pol shook his head. “Landon is the King, and you are the King’s subject. You ask me to kill him? That would make me a traitor, wouldn’t it?”

  Tamio looked disgusted. “You are making it difficult for me, boy. I had other plans for you, but this will be better, much better for me.” Tamio flicked his wrist, and Pol found himself frozen in place. He tried to figure out what kind of tweak Tamio had performed, but he remained in place.

  Landon rose and ran behind his desk, holding the chair as if it were a shield. Tamio stepped to Pol and picked up Landon’s sword. “You’ll be caught with this in your hand, My Prince, getting revenge on the King and Queen. What a crime!”

  Landon obviously caught on that his life was in danger from the Chief Guard. Tamio advanced on Landon.

  Pol couldn’t move, but could he use his magic. He levitated one of his boot knives up to his shoulder with the point facing the Chief Guard. All Pol saw was Tamio’s back.

  “I’ll be taking your place, Fairfield,” Tamio said. “The Emperor will agree to it with the trouble your father has stirred up, allying himself with South Salvan. But these things are evidently above you.” Tamio raised the King’s sword over the King of Listya.

  Landon closed his eyes and cringed, covering his head with his arms.

  The knife disappeared from Pol’s view as he ‘moved’ it into Tamio’s heart.

  Tamio’s stricken face turned to Pol. “What have you done?” his voice came out as a croak.

  “I have saved my brother’s life,” Pol said as he watched Tamio collapse. Landon’s sword clattered to the floor as Tamio died.

  Pol wondered if the tweak was a stiffening of his joints. He spelled a counter and fell to the floor, but he quickly got up.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Landon pressed himself against a bookcase. He held his hands close to his chest. Pol had never seen his stepbrother show such fear.

  “Why would I do that? I said I saved your life. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “You’ve changed,” Landon said, looking up at Pol, and not relaxing one bit.

  Pol shrugged off his comments. He helped Landon to his feet. His brother let Pol help sit him in his desk chair.

  “I’ll write down a few suggestions to get your new rule going.” Pol wrote down Greenhill’s name and the other interviewers from the past two days. “These people may not be your friends, but you need to find Listyans who will help you. If you marry again, marry a Listyan girl. Immediately stop the stupid taxes and the other measures that Bythia put into place. You’ll only succeed if the people see you as a benefit. Do you understand?”

  Landon nodded, but Pol doubted if he was listening.

  “I’m taking Anna Lassler,” Pol said.

  “Who?”

  “Bythia’s healer. The Queen doesn’t need one anymore.” Pol glanced at her body. “I’m also taking Demeron with me.” He showed the certificate of title to Landon. “Signed by the Emperor, see?”

  Landon nodded again, still bewildered.

  “I’m leaving Listya in your hands. Rule the country well, or there will be another Tamio ready to take your head, but I won’t be here to save you, then. Do you understand?”

  “I understand. Why are you doing this for me? I’ve never treated you well,” Landon said.

  “As I told Tamio,” Pol shook Landon’s shoulder, and shuddered. He voiced his unexpected revelation. “You are my brother, no matter if I want you to be, or not.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ~

  POL MET DEMERON CLOSE TO THE GUARD HEADQUARTERS. Pol wore his guard uniform, and stood with his saddlebags. He put them on Demeron, always a struggle with the tall horse. Anna stood by him, wearing street clothes with a big bag hanging from her shoulder.

  He pulled out the empty message portfolio and trotted to the castle gate with Anna sitting behind. “I have a message that needs to go out tonight. It’s an emergency. Let me through with the healer.” Pol waved the message case. “Quickly!”

  The guards muttered, but they recognized Pol and let him through. He rode through mostly empty streets. Men and women were leaving the taverns for home as the pair threaded their way through town.

  “Get Mansen to the boarding stables before noon. I’ve got to extract Searl.” He let Anna off where she directed and proceeded to the stables where Pol had placed the cart and Searl’s horse and then lay down to sleep on musty hay.

  ~

  Pol woke up and changed clothes. Queen Bythia’s demise hadn’t yet been announced, and there had been no alarm about Pol’s actions the night before. He stopped by an inn and purchased a pot of stew for the jail and a bag of bowls and spoons. As usual, the guards seized the stew and began to wolf down the food. Pol watched as they ate before he walk
ed down the aisle to Searl.

  “You’re back,” he said.

  “I am. Now it’s time to go.”

  “Here? The guards.”

  Pol laughed. “Don’t worry about them. We just have to wait a few more minutes.” Pol used his power to unlock the cell door.

  “I could have done that,” Searl said.

  “Hey!” Pol said. “I’m going to take all the credit.” He gave Searl a smile and led him out of the dungeon. All along the corridor, the guards lay on the ground with grins on their faces.

  “You drugged them?”

  “Minweed from your garden. Somehow the last twenty-four hours has been filled with irony.” Pol said.

  Searl’s eyes goggled.

  Pol pulled on his guard coat and escorted Searl out of the city jail.

  They walked to the stable.

  “Anna!” Searl said. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.” He put his arms around his daughter, and then around Mansen.

  Pol stood apart watching for any intruders. While they talked, he pulled out the cart and hitched it to Searl’s horse. Then he dug up the two bags of money and put them in his saddlebag.

  “Time to go,” Pol said, taking off his uniform coat and tossing it back into the stall. He hoped that would be the last he’d have to wear it.

  ~

  There was a line to get out of the city. By now, stories of the Queen’s death at the hand of Regent Tomio and King Landon’s heroic attempt to save his wife were on every tongue.

  “Aron Morfess?” Carlon Winters pulled up alongside Pol. “Where is your grandfather?”

  Pol looked at Mansen, and realized that he had to make up some kind of story.

  “He’s back in Alsador, in the city jail,” Pol said.

  “I don’t think so,” Winters said, looking at the cart. “This must be the son-in-law. Where is the daughter?” His gaze didn’t leave the cart.

  They approached the guard who eyed the three of them.

  “What’s the matter?” Pol said.

  “Some trouble in the city. An old man escaped from the city jail with his grandson.”

  From the guard’s comment, Pol and Searl were sought by the city guard, not Landon. His brother wouldn’t hesitate to include a description of Demeron.

  “If we see them on the road, we’ll send them back to Alsador,” Winters said.

  He looked at Pol and Mansen. “Let’s go, men.” Winters looked back at the guards. “I vouch for these two. They are my servants.”

  The guard waved them on, and they were soon on their way out of Alsador.

  Pol’s eyes bored into Winters’ back. Why had the man inserted himself into their affairs? It didn’t matter since the man’s action allowed them to easily slide past the guards.

  ~

  Pol looked in the mirror and changed his dark hair back to his normal silvery blond. Searl still slept on the bed behind them. It had taken all four of them threatening Searl to leave him, without funds at the inn, before he agreed to take a bath. Pol made sure the clothes Searl had worn to jail had been burned.

  He walked down to the common room for a meal with Anna, Mansen, and Winters. As he stepped into the room, he noticed Valiso Gasibli sitting with Searl’s daughter and her husband.

  “What are you doing here?” Pol fought off the confusion that he felt.

  “I have business with the Abbot, so I’m accompanying you all to Deftnis,” Val said. He grinned in his cold way. “You’re probably wondering where Carlon Winters is, aren’t you?”

  Pol heard Winters’s voice coming from Val’s lips. “Seekers are also masters of disguise,” Pol said, amazed that Val’s transformation had fooled him so thoroughly. He remembered Searl’s comment about Winters’ disguise.

  “You get to learn that in advanced classes,” Val said. “I owe you an explanation. The youth, who was Regent Tamio’s last project before you showed up, suspected a coup. Ranno sent me to investigate. You wouldn’t believe how surprised I was to run into Searl and you.”

  “Valiso Gasibli, surprised?” Pol said.

  “It does happen,” he said, drily.

  “I kept my eyes on you two, and went about my investigation. I was surprised again,” he bowed to Pol, “when I found you working for Regent. I had no doubt he would figure out who you were and accelerate his timetable.”

  “So you knew he was going to kill Landon?”

  Val nodded. “You knew the pattern that developed as well as I did,” Val said. “I was right behind you in the castle and heard your conversation with Anna, here.” Val gave her a little bow. “At that point, I just kept out of the way, unless I was needed. You did very well, for a beginner.”

  Pol snorted. “I am a beginner, aren’t I?”

  “A very good one,” Anna said, patting Pol’s hand.

  Pol folded his arms. “Was this another test?” He hoped he didn’t sound too petulant.

  Val laughed, a real laugh this time, and ruffled Pol’s hair. “A very good one!” he echoed Anna’s comment. “I didn’t have to do anything but monitor the situation.”

  “Landon might have killed me,” Pol said.

  “You know better than to say that. Once I knew Searl cured your heart, few men with a sword could defeat you. You’ve noticed that no one at Deftnis likes knives, but how many times have my lessons saved your life?”

  Pol just nodded and ground his teeth. He knew he hadn’t been used, but he felt like he’d been left flailing in a windstorm.

  “Wilf Yarrow is the Emperor’s man,” Val continued, “and will take care of rooting out the South Salvans. I let a few of the more trustworthy nobles know that Landon will need some help. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about your brother, not your step-brother.”

  Pol felt his neck flush. “You heard me?”

  “Hazett will be proud of you when he hears of this,” Val said. He seemed to be enjoying the conversation too much in Pol’s view. “My report to him had left Alsador before I met up with you at the city gate.”

  Pol squirmed in his seat. He hadn’t intended anyone to know about his conversation with Landon. He didn’t know what to do, now that he had finally avenged his mother’s death and was startled by the fact that he no longer desired to destroy his siblings. He’d have to do some work on re-adjusting his own pattern.

  ~~~

  Epilogue

  ~

  EIGHT DAYS LATER, THE FIVE OF THEM LOOKED ACROSS THE CHOPPY OCEAN at Deftnis Isle. Summer was in full force, and the monastery would soon empty out for Harvest Break. Pol groaned at the prospect of riding across that rough water, along with Searl and Val.

  “I’m not going to live on that island, Father,” Anna said. “I had enough of that place when I was growing up.”

  “Then stay in Mancus.”

  “There is nothing for us here. We left Alsador without money and—”

  “Don’t worry,” Searl said. He tossed the fat purse of weeder money to Mansen. “Set up an ironmongery in Mancus. You can even get contracts for weapons from the monastery. Anyway, I want to be able to bounce my grandchild on my knee.”

  “But my healing?” Anna said.

  “I’ll be coming over often enough,” Searl said. “It’s time you learned how to properly use magic, and there is no one better to teach you.” He grinned and rubbed his chin. “Maybe it’s time to start a nunnery.”

  They rode down to the town and left their horses at the stable where Pol had first separated from Demeron nearly a year ago.

  “We’ll get you back over to the isle as soon as the ocean calms.” Pol said to his horse.

  I can wait as long as they feed me grain.

  Pol grinned and patted his horse’s jaw.

  Searl, Val, and Pol boarded the boat that would take them back to the Isle. Anna and Mansen stood on the pier, waving.

  ~

  Pol looked at the seven monks and Val sitting around the table where he usually took lessons from Vactor. Searl and Pol had already given their tale, and Val
had backed them up.

  “So what are we going to do with you?” Abbot Pleagor said to Pol.

  “I’m cured,” Pol said.

  “You are, but I don’t know if I can have a fifteen-year-old Gray roaming around the monastery.”

  “Gray? I’m just a Level Four.”

  The Abbot waved Pol’s ten tests from Searl’s cabin in his face. “This is the standard set of Seventh Level attributes.”

  Pol looked a Vactor. “Tell them it isn’t so,” Pol pleaded.

  Vactor shrugged. “It is. You can color your hair, create your own spells.”

  “Val made disguises,” Pol said.

  “I would hope he could. Val is Eighth Level.”

  “A Black?” Pol glared at Val. He already knew Val was a much higher level than he had ever let on. “You lied to me.”

  Val looked back with emotionless eyes. “So?”

  Searl raised his hands to calm things down. “Steady, boy. Listen to Val.”

  “Yes, listen to him,” the Abbott said.

  “Actually I’ve ridden all the way to Deftnis with a mission, Pol,” Val said. “The Emperor is concerned about South Salvan, and King Astor’s ambitions will not end with the death of his daughter…”

  ~~~~

  An Excerpt From

  A Sip of Magic

  The Disinherited Prince – Book Three

  Chapter One

  ~

  POL CISSERT LOOKED AT SEVEN MONKS AND VALISO GASIBLI, who Pol called Val, sitting around the table where he usually took magic lessons from Vactor. Searl Hogton, the Master Healer, and Pol had already given their account of what happened in the foothills of the Wild Spines, and Val had backed up their adventures in the Listyan capital of Alsador, where Pol had eventually saved the life of King Landon, his estranged brother.

  “So what are we going to do with you?” Abbot Pleagor, the head of Deftnis Monastery, said to Pol.

  “Searl cured me,” Pol said. He didn’t know if it was an appropriate answer, but the vast improvement of his health had been about all he could think about since he had returned to Deftnis Isle from his quest to find Searl.

  “You are, but I can’t have a fifteen-year-old Seventh Level magician roaming around the monastery.”