by Guy Antibes
Perhaps Val was on his way to Yastan, the Imperial capital. But why not leave Demeron and Darrol to tell him? He failed to find a pattern that worked, other than Val and Darrol being captured and Demeron escaping. Where would Demeron go? Pol shook his head at the unanswerable questions.
Patience. He’d been counseled enough times to exercise patience, and Pol thought that he’d be patient until the army crossed the border with North Salvan. Val and Darrol might have escaped whoever invaded their camp, and he’d give them the chance to find him.
~~~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~
TWO RIVERS FLOWING DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAIN RANGE that Tesna called home converged in the middle of the country. The rulers of South Salvan built Covial right at that spot. Pol could see a haze in the distance where the capital should be.
With his disguise, Pol had no qualms about being spotted by King Astor. Most of the monks had begun to let their hair grow out, and Pol kept adjusting his Nater hair color when Shro told him light roots began to show.
Shro’s hair grew much faster than Pol’s, and she already sported a dark head. “Have you been there?” she asked, driving Horker’s cart, a task that she had suggested since she shared Pol’s tent. It didn’t get her out of the sporadic training Pol was tasked with by the Captain.
It had taken them nearly a week to get all the way to Covial. “No. I’ve never been to South Salvan before arriving at Tesna.” He was in earshot of Captain Horker, but it was true, anyway. “I heard it’s a unique city,” he said.
“Indeed it is,” Horker said, obviously listening in. “The architecture is unique and said to be reminiscent of Shinkyan buildings. I suppose Shro can judge that.”
She nodded and grinned. “I can and will, but I suspect that the Shinkyan influence will be restricted to flourishes rather than the actual structures. Buildings match the culture, and the Shinkyan culture is…different than the Empire.”
“What’s different about the culture?” Pol asked.
“Food, clothing, we are a different race with a different language. The Baccusolians all speak the same language, and we speak our own. That translates into a different value system. We just don’t think the same,” she said.
“That’s not true,” Horker said. “You are still humans. You laugh, you cry, you get angry, and mothers still love their babies. That’s universal, even if you speak a different language.”
Shro blinked and her eyebrows went up. “I never thought of it that way, but you are right. We are basically human, but believe me, there are differences.”
“Of course. There are differences between men and women, and between monks and farmers. Our perspectives are different, but our reactions to those perspectives are based on the same set of emotions that we all have.” Horker held up his hand. “Four fingers and a thumb. With similar hands and bodies, much of what we do will necessarily be similar. Not matching, I’ll grant you, but similar.”
That was an interesting concept that Pol hadn’t thought of before. He looked on as Horker continued talking to Shro and realized that the man had more depth to him than Pol thought. He wished he would have had the opportunity to know Horker better, and now Pol would be looking for chances to betray him.
Seekers probably had to do a lot of that in the course of their work. He could understand better why the Seeker instructors at Deftnis had left the profession. Pol would have to let this adventure play out before he could make any judgments concerning his future. He currently traveled with the enemy, maybe two enemies, and had already mentally started to become one of the monks when Shro pointed out that he had been training traitors to the Empire.
Life couldn’t be simple. Maybe farmers led a simpler life, but Pol thought that farmers just might have a different set of problems.
They began to pass through the outskirts of Covial. Horker commanded less than one hundred, but that included all the acolytes. People would stand by the side of the road and gawk at them as they went by.
Pol didn’t see any friendly faces. He wondered if the monks had already scoured the countryside for younger men. If Tesna hadn’t done it, then King Astor certainly would have. The column continued until the city walls of Covial came into view. Landon and Amonna had both been here with Bythia. At least he wouldn’t be staying at the castle that he could now see poking above the surrounding roofs. It looked like it had been built on a manmade hill. There had to be a lot of artificial hills in the empire.
The city of the King of South Salvan did look different than the sprawling castles Pol had seen before. The towers had jutting roofs on each floor that made them look like someone stacked each level on top of another. A pointed steeple topped each one. He counted eight towers rising from the castle.
Shro must have followed Pol’s eyes. “The towers look like Shinkyan, but our roofs are not steepled like those.”
Pol thought back to their previous conversation not far back on the road about Shinkyan design and Shinkyan-inspired design. He wondered what other differences Shro might find. Maybe Covial was a mixture of styles. He’d seen such things on a lesser scale during his travels throughout the Dukedoms in the spring and summer.
Horker spoke, interrupting Pol’s musings. “We will travel through Covial and then take the Northwest Road out.”
Pol didn’t say another word as they passed through shabby buildings built outside of the protection of the city wall, but he knew that no one had invaded Covial in centuries. It was too far out of the way, and no one ever passed through South Salvan, for there wasn’t anything but water on the other side.
The column continued beneath the gates to the city. Pol didn’t see buildings significantly different-looking than what he had seen in other parts of the Empire, except he noticed more bare wood showing on timbered buildings. Some of the roofs had a low pitch and curved up at the ends. That was different, but that didn’t extend to a different architecture underneath.
“Do Shinkyan roofs curve up at the ends?” he asked Shro.
She nodded. “Not like this.” He could see a smile on her face. “These are affectations.”
Horker turned around and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll enjoy seeing Shinkya, perhaps when we finish up destroying the Empire,” he said and faced front again.
Shro scrunched up her mouth and looked up at Pol. “I’ll enjoy seeing Shinkya again,” she said, echoing Horker’s comment, but hers was filled with a different meaning.
A rider in the livery of King Astor rode up to Horker. He gave the Captain a message case.
The captain slipped the message out of the leather tube and read.
“Do you know anything about Seeking, Nater?”
Pol colored a little. “There was a Seeker that looked into a murder at one of our villages. My father thought it was political, and the Seeker found that it was. My father insisted that I trail the Seeker as he went about finding the culprits. The Seeker found five, actually.”
“Well, I don’t know a damned thing about Seeking, and neither do any other monks that I know of. It looks like we are going to live a bit better at Covial than spending our nights in a tent.” Horker looked at Shro. “Want to come along? I know you and Nater are close.”
“Certainly.” Shro managed a smile. “Anyplace where I don’t have to sleep on the ground.”
Looking at Pol, Horker said, “Untie the extra horse and take anything you need out of the cart.” The Captain called another acolyte over to drive the cart and called for Spinner.
“Take our unit into the city center and out along the Northwest Road. I’ll make sure one of Astor’s officers guides you to our assigned camp.”
Spinner grinned at Pol. “Wish I would sleep on a bed tonight, but I don’t care much for hobnobbing with my betters. Good luck.”
Shro quickly gathered her bow and quiver of arrows. She buckled her Shinkyan sword to her waist and jumped on her horse with her bag on her shoulders. “Ready,” she said tying her things to the horns on her saddle.
The spear and shield she left in the cart.
“I always have my gear with me,” Pol said. And indeed he had, in case he had to leave the army quickly.
Horker nodded after retrieving a larger bag. “Let’s go.” He nodded to the waiting messenger, and the three of them headed to King Astor’s castle.
Pol couldn’t understand why Horker would be pulled away from the troops, but the monk seemed to be all right with it. Knowing King Astor, Pol suspected a hidden motive. With Horker’s invitation, he realized that the monk did like him and must have thought that Pol had something to contribute.
Horker slid back to ride alongside Pol. “King Astor’s request is unusual, to say the least. I suspect that our presence has a purpose other than solving a crime. Why ask us when the King has his own staff? I want you with me because you are a resister and know how to use weapons. Shro,” he looked back at the Shinkyan, “is our messenger if something untoward happens. You know how people ignore servants.”
Pol nodded. “I do.” By now he had plenty of practice. Horker’s suspicions relieved some of the worries that were building up inside. With Shro, he had an ally just as Horker thought he did. This time, he didn’t have to approach the Seeker assignment alone, but Val was gone with Darrol and Demeron. Pol bit the inside of his lip. He had more than misgivings. If Pol had any influence on Horker, he would have suggested that they just ride on through Covial and stay at their camp until called to arms. Perhaps Horker didn’t have the option. Pol certainly didn’t.
It seemed to him that the monks were uncertain allies of King Astor, but that didn’t make King Astor any less of an enemy to his stepfather King Colvin. He looked up at the castle, getting larger and larger with each step of his horse.
~
Somehow Pol had thought they would be treated better than being assigned servant’s quarters. Horker had his own space next to Pol and Shro, but it was the same size and layout, both rooms had two beds.
“This mattress isn’t any better than the one at Tesna,” Shro said. “Nevertheless,” she smiled, “It’s much better than sharing a tiny tent.”
Pol nodded. “So much for living like royalty.”
“You’d know,” Shro said, a corner of her mouth curled up in a smile.
“Shhh,” Pol said silently, putting his finger to his lips and glaring at the Shinkyan. He spoke a little louder. “We rarely made it to court and when we did we stayed in an inn.”
Shro’s mouth turned into an ‘O’. “My life wasn’t so grand in Shinkya. There is being of noble birth and then there is being as rich as one. If it wasn’t for my uncle, I would have never been at Tesna,” she said.
“You never told me that,” Pol said. Had she told the truth or did she lie like Pol just had?
Shro lifted her eyebrows and sighed. “I still don’t want to say anymore about it.”
They heard a knock on the door. “Nater? It is time to make an appearance. Shro can find something to eat in the kitchens.”
“What should I wear?” He plucked at the dusty tabard.
“What you rode in on. I’ll be doing the same. We’ll present a united front.”
“I’m not wearing that stinky thing,” Shro said quietly to Pol. She had taken off her waxed canvas cloak when they first reached their rooms. “I’ll be wearing what I’ve got on,” Shro said. “Is that all right, too?”
“Suit yourself,” Horker said. “You can pretty much do what you want until we leave.” Pol opened the door for the Captain, who then pulled two wooden plaques from his belt. “These are passes in and out of the castle grounds.” He gave one to each of them.
If Horker looked at Shro as a messenger or a helper if something odd happened, Pol couldn’t have positioned her any better. Horker crooked his finger. “We don’t want to be late, and I believe we will be walking past the kitchens.”
Horker was right. Shro bowed to the Captain and nodded to Pol as she stepped inside the large kitchens. Two guards joined the pair to lead them on to King Astor.
“We will escort you to the King’s Little Chambers.”
Pol guessed it was a smaller throne room, but when they arrived he saw that the chambers consisted of a large wide table with twenty or so chairs along the sides. There were six men seated when they walked in. Pol recognized King Astor, but none of the others.
“You may sit over here,” one of the men said, pointing to an empty space between others. All were men except for one woman, who sat a few chairs from King Astor across from Horker and Pol. He knew she wasn’t Astor’s wife since Pol had met the Queen Isa in Borstall.
“I have a dilemma,” King Astor said, “but first, why did you bring a youth along with you? I thought your aide would be older.”
Horker chuckled. “My King, he has some Seeking experience, and that is something lacking at Tesna. Isn’t it Manda?” The Captain looked at a chubby man about Horker’s age.
“He is too young,” Manda said. His long black beard wobbled when he talked. Pol took an instant dislike to him.
“I’ve been on a few Seeker missions for my father,” Pol said, “and I’ve been complimented on my clear thinking; plus I’m good with a sword for my age.”
Astor shrugged. “Every young man thinks he’s better with a sword than he really is, but if you think his word is good enough, then we will proceed.” He looked at Manda across the table from Pol.
The man gave a curt bow to Astor. “My King.” He turned to Horker. “We have a delicate situation where we need a more independent investigator. A North Salvan citizen has been accused of the murder of Lord Gartor.”
“Who is?” Horker asked.
“A special friend of the Queen,” Manda said.
Pol quickly looked at King Astor, who turned red at the admission.
“Who is this North Salvan?” Horker said.
“He says his name is Kelso Beastwell.”
“What?” Pol said. The men in the room glared it at him, so Pol lowered his gaze to the highly polished tabletop.
“Do you know this Beastwell?” the bearded man asked.
“Isn’t he the Captain of the Guard at Borstall Castle?” Pol said. He fought to remain calm. Even though he wore Nater’s face, Pol realized he might have made the mistake of saying too much. Now he had to scramble to answer, to lie, properly.
“How did you know that?” King Astor said.
“My father, Lord Grainell of Boxall, took me to Borstall Castle three years ago. Captain Beastwell introduced me to the prince there, Poldon Fairfield.”
The King scowled at Pol’s mention of his name.
“The disinherited prince?” Manda asked.
Pol nodded. “I didn’t like him very much, too sickly and whiny for me. Beastwell had me learn what the Borstall guards did for the two days we stayed in Borstall. My father was in North Salvan arranging for grain to be shipped from Boxall to Volia.”
“I didn’t think you looked South Salvan to me,” King Astor said. “What did you think of Beastwell?”
“I only met him a few times. He didn’t hesitate to have other guards escort me, but I thought he treated me well,” Pol said.
“Do you think him capable of killing a man?” the bearded man said.
“He is a professional soldier. They are trained to kill, so he can do such a thing, but the question would be why?”
The bearded man smiled. “That’s what a Seeker would say. Beastwell is here on behalf of King Colvin. So we wouldn’t want to use a truth spell on him.” He looked meaningfully at Horker.
To Pol that meant that the South Salvans wouldn’t administer a truth spell, but if a Tesnan monk did, perhaps that might be acceptable to King Astor. It still didn’t make much sense. If King Astor was about to invade North Salvan, why adhere to niceties? Something still wasn’t right.
“I understand,” Horker said. “I’d like to talk to the criminal.”
So Kelso was a criminal already? Did Horker know why Beastwell was accused of the murder? What would be the mo
tive? Kelso was happily married with children in Borstall, but he couldn’t tell Horker that.
Was the murder going to be the provocation for the invasion? Pol thought King Astor might be the one to kill Lord Gartor for being familiar with the Queen. Pol didn’t get the impression that Bythia’s mother was that kind of person, but then he had never seen the woman in her own environment. Perhaps she had restrained herself in Borstall.
“I will arrange for you to visit Beastwell in the morning. Until then feel free to enjoy Covial Castle and the city. I am unavailable tonight, but perhaps a time might arise for you join us for dinner during your stay. I don’t think this matter will delay your joining General Onkar.” King Astor stood, as did the others at the table. Horker rose and left while Pol scrambled to his feet to follow.
Horker stayed silent until the guards deposited them back outside the doors to the kitchens… the servants’ entrance. The slight didn’t go unobserved from the look on Horker’s face.
“Outside,” he said, pushing through the doors and out into the open air. He stamped on the ground. “So much for a meal in conference with the King. What do you think of this mess?”
Pol worked his lips at the thought. He wanted some time alone to calm down and think. King Astor was both a personal and a political enemy. Pol’s nerves had reached the fraying point towards the end of the meeting. He took a breath and blinked a little longer than was necessary.
“It’s a set-up. We use a truth spell so the King can blame the monastery rather than his own magicians for breaking their side of their relationship with North Salvan. Beastwell still gets blamed for the death, and that is the spark King Astor uses to invade the north.”
Horker looked at Pol with amazement. “You are two steps ahead of me. You left me back at using the truth spell. I understand that, but what of this treaty with North Salvan?”
Pol bit his lip. He really did go too far this time. He would have to construct a scenario based on Pol’s experiences with Val in Borstall. “While I was there, Captain Beastwell caught an assassin who tried to kill Queen Molissa. He enlisted the help of Malden, Malden…”