by Guy Antibes
Pol nodded.
“What kind of coin do you have?”
“Boxall coinage. That’s where I’m from. A gold, a silver, and a copper coin.”
“I can weigh the silver. Pick something out. I’ll give you a good price for the pastries. It’s late enough in the day.”
Pol selected enough to treat the rest of the acolytes in the first year’s basement. He gave the owner his silver and received change in South Salvan currency. “Thank you for you candor, sir,” Pol said as he left the general store.
As he walked down the street, he passed a familiar face and turned back.
“Carlon Winters, what a surprise to see you.” Pol said. Val had used the same disguise when he met up with Pol and Searl Hogton on the way to Alsador, the capital of Listya.
“Nater Grainell? I hardly recognize you without your hair.” Val gave him one of his sneery smiles. “Why are you here? I had some business with the turkey growers in this area.”
Pol looked around. “Is there some place we can talk of home?”
“Follow me.”
Val took Pol to a bench in the little park by a church. The god was not Tesna.
“Is this a coincidence?”
Val folded his arms and looked intently at Pol. “Hardly. Darrol and I have been down here walking Gobbleton’s streets often enough. We can’t just sit around waiting for you. What have you learned?” Val said.
“The Tesnan’s talk about leaving the monastery to go out and dominate the world,” Pol said.
Val snorted. “There’s hardly enough of the monks to staff a castle guard.”
“No, you’re wrong. They have developed something worse than mind-control. They call it compulsion, and I learned how it’s done, but I can’t see how I’d ever want to use the kind of magic where the victim can’t really think for themselves.”
“That’s not a good thing, Nater.”
“Mind-control gets you to think differently. Compulsion forces you to act involuntarily. The shop owner told me about how women that the Tesnan’s use can’t remember a thing. Can mind-control erase memories?”
Val smiled. “Sometimes women will lie about that, but who knows? There are spells that you don’t know that will bring forgetfulness, so they might be tweaking a bit differently. There is a technique that isn’t magic, but we don’t have time to talk about it. It looks like Tesna has a specialty that we never knew. Perhaps that’s why they think they don’t need pattern masters.”
“They don’t practice arms. Acolytes aren’t taught much, nor are servants. As they serve longer in the monastery, they are taught more magic. It’s even a slower process than Deftnis.”
“I suspected that. We shouldn’t be seen talking for long. I found a path from our camp that takes us close to the monastery, so we’ll find a way to get in touch. We will need to keep you there for a bit longer.”
Pol nodded and noticed a couple walking past them. “Please give my regards to Father, when you pass through our manor,” he said.
“I’ll do that. Take care of yourself, Nater.”
With that Pol walked back towards the stable. When he arrived, there were three monks standing by the cart.
“Acolyte Nater?”
Pol nodded. He didn’t like the look on the monks’ faces.
“You came with Monk Willam?”
Pol looked from monk to monk. “I did. He told me he was coming to pick up supplies. I was to help him load.”
“Where is Willam?” one of the monks said. Pol felt the pressure of a spell.
Pol shrugged. “He told me to be here before the third hour ended. I suppose the supplies haven’t arrived yet.” If the monk wanted the truth, Pol could give it without forcing. “If you ask the stable boy he might know. Willam’s been here before.”
One of the monks disappeared into the inn and came back out holding the boy by his collar. The boy protested a bit, but didn’t need to be dragged.
“Willam?” the monk who had found the stableboy said. Pol again felt the pressure of a spell, and the boy blinked.
“What about Willam?” the boy said.
“Where is he?”
“He is with a woman or two,” the boy said. “Upstairs. The innkeeper can tell you what room.”
The monk looked at Pol. “Did this Acolyte know about it?”
“I don’t think so. He asked me where Willam went when he came here.”
The interrogator nodded to the other two monks. “Fetch Willam, now.”
Pol could see the man’s anger as his eyes followed the monks. The angry eyes swiveled to the stableboy.
“I don’t want Willam to see you,” the monk said to the frightened boy. He turned to Pol. “You, on the other hand, stay here. I’ll want you to verify what Willam says.”
“As much as I’m able,” Pol said.
“Oh, you’ll be able.”
Pol wondered what would happen to him. Would the monastery evict him from Tesna? Perhaps he was ready to leave, after all. He looked for Willam and saw Val strolling past the open gate to the stable. The Seeker turned his head towards Pol and gave him the barest of nods.
Pol felt like he was on his own with that nod. He bit the inside of his lower lip, trying to calm down. Maybe he shouldn’t. Nater would be more upset.
“What are you going to do to me?” Pol said, rising to his role. “I’ve only been at Tesna for a few weeks. I didn’t know I did anything wrong. Willam acted like it was a joke coming to town, but I don’t know the man. I really don’t.”
“Calm down. This isn’t the first time for Willam. We have rules about when we can come to town, and he violated those.”
“What about the women?” Pol asked.
The monk shrugged. “What he does here is his own business. Willam is not to take an acolyte out of the monastery to make it look like his trip was authorized.”
Pol had to keep his eyebrows from shooting up. The monastery condoned Willam’s behavior once he was in town? Pol had thought the shop owner might have been mistaken, but those thoughts were erased by the monk’s attitude.
Willam walked out of the inn. His face looked flushed, but he didn’t struggle.
“You are in trouble,” the interrogator said.
Willam bowed his head. “I know I did wrong.” He looked at Pol. “Sorry, boy.” He looked at the monk. “This lad didn’t know anything. I picked him for that.”
The interrogator looked at the other two monks. “I’ve already found that out. The women?”
The other monks nodded in reply. It was obvious to Pol that their minds were probably tampered with.
“You drive,” one of the monks threw Pol the reins. Willam ended up riding behind Pol inside the empty cart.
Pol followed the monks riding back up the road to the monastery. Willam didn’t say a word. Pol looked at the sack on the floor. He had lost any desire for the pastries.
~~~
CHAPTER NINE
~
POL RETURNED TO THE LIBRARY and decided to learn more about the god Tesna. He asked a different monk sitting at the front desk where he could find out more.
“Tesna is an admirable subject to research,” the monk said, directing Pol to the right. It didn’t take long for Pol to find a shelf full of thin books on the monastery’s personal god.
Pol took a thicker one down and shuffled through the pages. This book was a collection of sermons. That wasn’t what Pol hoped to find. He looked at the spines for something more practical and found a book called The Principles of Tesna.
He opened it up and thumbed through the pages. Religious doctrine. He smiled as he walked to a table and began reading.
Tesna was a god, but not an omnipotent one. There were no rituals. Pol went back to the bookshelves and found none of the Tesnan religious texts older than thirty years.
He continued his reading. There couldn’t be a more derivative religion than this. The monks took the roles of priests, but there was no gathering of the common people. This
was a religion solely practiced at the monastery. The great reward that most religions offered was a new order, and Tesna worship didn’t offer anything new, but Pol could tell that Tesna was ‘destined’ to rule the entire world. That matched with the rhetoric Abbott Festor had spouted, but Pol had thought that was figurative until he verified that it might not be when he talked to the shop owner. This book was very clear, indicating the literal domination of the world, but without the actual presence of a god named Tesna. The Abbot would be his mouthpiece.
How would the monks in this out-of-the-way monastery do such a thing on their own? He wished that Val were sitting at his side to help him put a proper pattern together. His conversation in Gobbleton had been much too brief, but an outside army would have to do the fighting.
Everything else in the book had the same religious window dressing he had read about enough times. Diligence, hard work, faith in their god, and obedience were almost universal. He glanced through a few of the sermons to verify what he had read, and it all fit, at least for now. He had read enough about the monastery’s divine master.
Pol didn’t have the time to search for volumes on compulsion, so he put the book back and headed off to lunch. The task board ordered him to polish furniture in the administration building in the afternoon. Maybe he could learn more there.
~
There were three other acolytes in the afternoon crew. They all grabbed rags and dust cloths and split up. Pol took the upper floor where the Abbot had his office. Other acolytes were assigned other cleaning duties like washing windows and floors.
There were worse tasks. He located the inhabitants of the fourth floor and saw that there must be a meeting of some kind. No offices were occupied. Pol started at the west end and entered a room.
Pol?
Demeron spoke!
“I’m here, Demeron,” Pol said.
Val and I had to sneak close to the monastery. I can only ask yes or no questions since I can’t talk to your friend. Are you all right?
“I am, and you are all doing fine?”
We are. Val said you looked well. Have you found anything else yet?
“Something is up, but I don’t have any new information yet. I told Val that the Tesnans are adept at mind-control, like Coram, and even use it on themselves,” Pol said. “How often will you be coming close to the monastery?”
Val told me that we would be doing this every other day in the afternoon. Val doesn’t have any other questions other than to make sure we can communicate.
There was a pause. Pol continued to dust the desk.
He wants me to ask if everything was all right when he saw you in the stable yard.
Pol told Demeron that he was fine.
If you ever want to leave, let us know.
“I will, but not yet. There is a mystery here that I need to solve first.”
That is all for now. I’ll talk to you in two days.
Pol smiled as he did his work. He felt relieved that he wasn’t quite so alone at Tesna.
He entered the Abbot’s office and began to clean. Pol heard the latch rattle and looked up in surprise as Abbot Festor walked in.
“Acolyte, what are you doing here?”
Pol held up the dust cloth and the bag of rags. “I am at work for the monastery, Abbot.”
The man squinted at Pol. “You’ve done my desk?”
Pol nodded.
“You’ve done enough in my office for today. I’ve a meeting in here right now. You may leave.”
Pol bowed to the man and stepped aside as three other monks stepped in. All of them had gold embroidered symbols on their chests.
“Close the door,” Abbott Festor said, as Pol was about to leave.
He stepped into the next office and began to spread his things around to look busy. He used his magic to enhance his hearing. He didn’t recognize any of the voices except for the Abbot.
“The last acolyte, the lad from Shinkya, finally arrives today,” a voice said. “Then we can start training the monks and acolytes to participate with the army as troops.”
Troops? Pol thought. He furrowed his brow.
“Onkar has added 5,000 men to the army from villages far to the south. We are in scour mode now. With King Astor…”
The door latch rattled and Pol, rag in hand, began to clean as a monk in deep purple robes walked into the room.
“Oh, cleaning day. I won’t be long,” the monk said. He wasn’t one of those from the Abbot’s office.
He stayed long enough to keep Pol from listening to any more. There was an army of over 5,000 soldiers in flagrant violation of Imperial law. But he didn’t know what kind of soldiers or whom they were going to fight.
Would the monastery invade Shinkya? That might make some sense. As far as he knew, the Emperor might condone such an act, only if it succeeded. But then he remembered all the talk about a world order. What if they were about to go north and absorb North Salvan and Tarida? Then…
It wasn’t worth extending the pattern with what little knowledge Pol had. He didn’t know how he could get that information out to Demeron and on to Val.
~
He ate dinner with a few of the first-year acolytes and verified that he didn’t have work scheduled for the evening. That brought a thin smile since he was utterly worn out. Pol trudged down the stairs and opened the door to his room.
A thin acolyte looked up from one of the beds. His features reminded him of Karo Nagoya. The Shinkyan’s head was already shaved, and he looked very young. Still, there was something off about him.
“You are my new roommate?” Pol said.
The acolyte nodded. “My name is Shro.” He had a stronger accent than Karo with a clipped cadence evident even in the short sentence, albeit in a much younger, higher-pitched voice.
“I’m P—, I’m Nater Grainell, but we go by first names here, so its just Nater.”
His new roommate stood and bowed his head in a short curt way. “I am glad to meet you, Nater. It is my wish that you will take good care of me.”
That must have been a Shinkyan phrase. When the acolyte looked up, he thought he detected a disguise. Would he be able to detect Pol’s? The thought alarmed him.
They both looked at each other for a few moments.
“You are Shinkyan.” Pol said it as a statement.
Shro gave him a ghost of a smile. “You can tell,” he said sarcastically, “and you are from Boxall?”
Pol nodded. He felt like he was in a duel as they both traded banter back and forth.
“I am familiar with your tutor, although I don’t know him,” Shro said. “Is he really your tutor?”
Karo must have gotten word back to Shinkya about Nater’s true destination. Pol was in over his head. This monk obviously knew he wasn’t Nater.
“You are a talented magician already. Why are you here?” Pol asked. He didn’t need the verbal sparring, as tired as he was.
His roommate laughed. “And so are you. We both wear disguises. In Shinkya, that indicates a high level of talent.”
Pol nodded, but there was something Nagoya had said about Shinkyan magicians. Pol was so weary that he couldn’t remember and didn’t want to continue this verbal duel. “If we are to survive, I think we need to share a bit of information with each other. I have no animosity towards Shinkya. One of my best friends is from there.”
“Someone other than Nagoya?” Shro asked. He looked confused.
“Ah. Actually, it’s my horse Demeron,” Pol said.
“You have a Shinkyan horse?”
“One of the few in the Baccusol Empire.”
A light came into Shro’s eyes. “You are Poldon Fairfield, then? He is the only magician we know who rides a Shinkyan horse. Your emperor sent a message notifying us of his approval of ownership. There are those among us not happy about that, but your emperor has the right to do such a thing.”
Pol couldn’t help but blush. Even the Shinkyans knew of Demeron. He shook his head with dismay at hi
s gaffe. Shro had quickly discovered his identity with a single slip of his tongue. He cast the unhappiness part of Shro’s statement aside. “I see you know who I am. What about you?”
Shro took a deep breath and changed his disguise. Even with the shaven head, Pol could tell Shro was a female.
Pol gasped. “You are a woman!” He had to keep his voice low.
She smiled in a very feminine way. “I am. I only show you in order to prove trust. I pledge to keep your identity secret, if you do the same for me.” Nagoya’s words came back. Only advanced Masters could make a disguise, and all those in Shinkya were females. If she was as young as she really looked, Shro might be as much a prodigy as he.
Pol nodded, trying to collect his wits. “I don’t mind having an ally at Tesna.” Pol went through the agony of removing his disguise and then went through the pain of applying it again.
“Even a Shinkyan?” She looked at him with curious eyes. “You could nearly pass for a Shinkyan if it wasn’t for your nose and coloring.”
Pol looked at her change back into Shro. She didn’t wince like Pol did, but then her face didn’t change a lot, mostly a stronger chin and a heavier forehead.
“Perhaps we can start by you telling me why you’re here? I’m trying to find out information for Hazett III,” Pol said. He couldn’t get her pretty face out of his mind.
“It looks like you’ve already started.” She smiled. It didn’t come across as provocatively as before, falling back into her role as a male acolyte. “We are nearly sure that the monks are organizing an army. Shinkya has always worried about South Salvan. We don’t know who King Astor is going to attack, and we’d like to know if it’s my country. It cost a great deal of money to place me here.”
“But you’re a woman,” Pol said.
“Not yet twenty and the youngest among us who can assume a disguise.”
“Who is ‘us’?”
“I am from Shinkya’s capital, and my orders come from the Queen.”
“I know about the army. I just found out recently, as a matter of fact. All I know is that they added 5,000 to a standing army. I don’t know how large the force is now. The monks said they are going to start weapons training. I don’t think they are accepting any new acolytes after you,” Pol said.