The Child Prince (The Artifactor)

by Honor Raconteur

  Perhaps he sensed that Bellomi didn’t want company right then. He did appreciate the cat’s presence, though. He knew very well now the dangers that these woods harbored and a part of him had been doubtful of going in during the dead of night. But if any danger came close, Baby would alert him and help him fight it off. He could more or less safely continue now if he wanted to.

  Without really thinking about it, he continued on to the clearing that he and Hana had spoken in not so long ago. Now, of course, it had nothing but moonlight in it, leaving a clearing all around him. He stopped in the center of it and lifted his face to the sky.

  He’d never been able to see the moon properly until he came to Sevana’s home. His window had faced the wrong direction. Strange, then, how looking up into that pale white surface made him feel nostalgic in a way. So many things that he’d missed because of being locked in that room. Until tonight, he hadn’t realized just how much. But seeing Sevana easily speak and tease Sarsen and Morgan made it clear to him. He’d never had a childhood friend. Now, he never would. All of the experiences in his childhood that he should have had—being spoiled by his parents, getting into silly fights, going on long voyages around the world just for the sake of curiosity—all of it. All of it he missed because of greedy men and their selfish ambitions.

  Something hot and furious welled up and he recognized the feeling now. Rage. As glad and joyous as he felt that the curse had finally been lifted from him, he couldn’t help but also feel angry that he’d been forced to live with it. He’d done nothing to deserve such a cursed, wretched existence, and yet he’d still been forced to suffer through it.

  Without conscious decision, his hands reached for the swords on his back and he slid them quickly free. He had no one to fight, no enemy to strike out at, and so he moved against his own shadow. Both blades whistled through the air in a high-pitched sching as he moved, going faster and faster, trying to win against his own shade. His arms started to ache under the force of the speed, sweat dewed and slid down his temples and his back, hands slipping ever so slightly against the tight leather hilts. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow his pace. If anything, he strove to go faster, make his strikes harder.

  The quiet, still air broke under the force of his harsh pants and grunts. His eyes misted as well, making the clearing around him blur around the edges. It took him a moment to realize that his vision had blurred not because of sweat pouring into his eyes but because he had tears standing in them.

  In a jerky motion, he stumbled to a stop, both swords slowly sliding from his grip and landing upright in the soft soil. Throwing back his head, he howled in wordless anger, trembling under the force of it.

  Shaking, crying, and feeling utterly alone, he grieved for the time lost that could not be regained.

  With a feeling of renewed purpose, everyone returned to researching the next day. Sevana’s plan to simply piggy-back on Hana’s research reached an abrupt dead end when Hana tartly informed her that she didn’t have a full list of possible suspects made up. She flagged several different resources that would contain that information, but she hadn’t been able to sort through it all yet and put it in a nice, tidy summary. At which point the librarian sweetly suggested that since Sevana wanted it, why don’t you sit down and compile it yourself?

  With grudging resignation, she did just that and joined the research crew. Sarsen and Axelrad had an easier time of it as they went through the palace step by step with a copy of the old patrol routines and figured out how to infiltrate through the holes. But they were still in Research Room II along with everyone else.

  For a week, that’s all that anyone did. Research, eat, and sleep. Well, more like research, eat, research, eat, research, and then drag themselves to the nearest bed to sleep.

  After a week solid of working on it, Sevana had more or less completed her list. It only lacked being compared to Sarsen’s list before they needed to put their heads together and plan out the next step. But after doing nothing but reading, no one wanted to do further research and they more or less unanimously quit for the night. In fact, without any sort of planning, the whole group ended up in the main room involved in other pursuits. Sevana came in to idly sketch out a new idea for a transport, but Sarsen and Axelrad showed up within short order also with a sketchbook in hand, talking about weapons. (She didn’t find that one bit surprising except for the fact that it hadn’t happened sooner.) Bel and Hana came in with a board game in their hands (where they’d gotten it, she had no idea) and set up in the corner to play. Or tried to. Baby kept putting his nose up on the table to sniff the game pieces, knocking them down.

  They only lacked Aren and Pierpoint, but she didn’t expect to see Pierpoint soon. The magician had sworn adamantly that he wouldn’t let either king or prince in the palace again without the absolute best magical protection available. He and Sarsen had put their heads together to design it, but they lacked all the necessary elements on hand to make it, so Pierpoint had left early that morning to go procure them. Where Aren went off to, she had no idea, nor did she care.

  Almost as if her thoughts summoned him, the king chose that moment to enter the room. Sevana had seen Aren in a variety of moods, from livid to laughing, but not this expression. It could hardly be called an expression at all. He arranged his expression into carefully orchestrated lines that concealed all true emotion. A politician’s face: it revealed nothing and said nothing. This absence sent an alarm ringing at the back of her head and she sat up abruptly, studying him very carefully. “Aren?”

  He gave her a look, little more than a glance, that said he had heard her. But he didn’t address her directly, rather said to the room in general, “Everyone, if you would, I need a moment of your time.”

  Everyone stopped in mid-motion, their hands full of the leisurely evening pursuits they’d been occupied with, and slowly put them down to give the king their full attention.

  Aren took in a breath, his politician’s mask slipping for just a moment to reveal a glimpse of true worry. Then he said in an abnormally calm tone, “I have just reviewed the lists of people that have lost power and gained it in this past decade. For which, Hana, I thank you for your dedicated work.” He spared her a brief smile and nod. “This has been quite enlightening and it tells me something that I feared but did not have confirmed until tonight. The situation we face is not the worst that it could be. It is not, however, the best.”

  Sevana grew irritated at this cryptic talk, and she tapped an impatient toe against the floor. “Aren, the point, if you please.”

  He took in a second, longer breath, before the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I am pleased to say that the Council does not hold official jurisdiction over this land. I have reviewed all the legislation passed in the past decade and I found that the Council made many changes, but that they couldn’t change. They could only give themselves limited power based on whether the ruling family was able to issue commands or not. The Dragonmanovich family is still, technically, the ones that hold authority in Windamere. However, they have spent the past decade building an empire of power to stand upon. Even with all of the legalities and laws in this land, we cannot march against them and win. They will have complete power over us, like a puppet master over his dolls.”

  Bel let out a long groan, slumping so that his head nearly touched his knees. To the floor he said, “So I was right. We really can’t just march in there and expect to wrest it back from them based upon the laws alone.”

  “They’ve changed too much,” Aren said hoarsely, mouth pinched in pain. “We would in effect be in house arrest all over again.”

  So the old plan wouldn’t work, then. Sevana had no idea on the exact details (largely because she hadn’t bothered to follow it) but she knew that those two expected to go in and win a battle of legalities and such to get their throne back. But they’d also expected they would have to have a very large power base from some of the Council, the aristocrats of the country, and the High Judges of Wind
amere.

  “Sounds like we need a new plan.”

  “That is exactly what we need.” Aren slumped into the nearest chair, looking a decade older and beyond weary. “I am open to suggestions.”

  “Shouldn’t you notify the Council of Kings, sire?” Axelrad asked. The way he looked so impassive at this news told Sevana that he also felt shaken at how badly the Council had undermined the king’s authority.

  “That is certainly a step that we must take,” Aren agreed, clearly having already thought of that. “But it cannot be the only one. They will not move for the sake of a ruling family.”

  Sevana had followed that rather well, she thought, until that last statement. “And why ever not? Aren’t the Council of Kings meant for situations just like this?”

  “Not quite,” Hana corrected, grimacing. She put a hand on Bel’s back in comfort and support even as she explained to Sevana, “The Council of Kings will not interfere in the internal leadership and disputes of the countries. They decided on that long ago, to prevent one king from meddling in another’s kingdom without cause. That’s why they didn’t act for the past ten years in Windamere—they assumed that King Aren was still in control. They might not have agreed on how this country was being governed, but they had no right to interfere. They can only do so if the ruler of a country asks for their aid, if there is some issue with the new heir or a country assuming his seat of power, or if the conflicts of a country becomes international in scale.”

  Aren waved a hand in her direction. “I could not have explained it better. We certainly will need to call them here, to have them witness my re-ascension of the throne, but they cannot support a king that does not have the support of his nation. It would spell disaster. At best, they would appoint a new king to govern instead.”

  “Then I think it’s time we won back the support of our country, don’t you?” Bel raised his head, sitting back upright and meeting his father’s eyes with renewed determination. “We might have lost the majority of support at the government level, but I know that isn’t the case among the common people. Our citizens have no love for the Council, or their complicated and costly laws. If we go out, and talk with each town, village and city, re-gaining their support, wouldn’t we be able to call upon the aid of the Council of Kings?”

  The king opened his mouth to respond, paused, thought about it for a long moment, and then said slowly, “That might well work. In fact, I have no doubt it will work. It’ll be dangerous, though. If they catch wind of what we’re doing, we’ll be out in the open with very limited protection.”

  “We’ll need to be secretive, as much as we can, and we can’t stay in any one place for long or be predictable in our movements,” Bel agreed, a smile growing on his face. “But I think it’s more than possible.”

  “We should move on this quickly,” Axelrad advised, brows furrowed as he thought. “If we take too much time, word will spread to the Council and the odds will be stacked even more against us. There’s also the worrisome possibility that they will find this place soon.”

  Sevana didn’t see how that was worrisome at all. “You realize that if anyone tries to enter here, Big will simply re-route the tunnels and lead them on a merry chase? They’ll never find people unless he wants them to.”

  “But it doesn’t really solve the problem,” Aren informed her sourly. “If they do pinpoint my location and I refuse to come out, they can make a solid case of abandonment and claim I am no longer interested or fit to be on the throne. In fact, doing that will actually make things easier for them.”

  She let out a growl. This was why she didn’t like politics. You were in trouble no matter which way you jumped. “Alright, so how much time do we have to enact this new plan before you think they’ll track him down here?” she asked Axelrad, seeing as how he seemed to be on top of this situation.

  “Two months, at most,” Axelrad answered grimly. “They’ll have run out of the obvious places to search, gone through the less obvious, and come to the conclusion that he’s either out of the country or hiding in someone’s home by that point.”

  “With the aid of Sevana’s clocks and other travel devices, and if we split up, we might be able to get the support of the country within that short amount of time.” Bel didn’t sound convinced of this.

  “Or at least the majority of them, which is good enough,” Aren agreed, also not quite sounding convinced. “But the main problem is, how do we contact the Council of Kings that quickly? Or even get them here that fast? It takes months just to get to Appleby! That doesn’t even count getting to the kings of the other countries.”

  Sevana could feel a set of eyes on her so she turned in her chair, the worn-in leather creaking slightly as she shifted around. Sarsen regarded her with frank openness, chin propped up in a hand. “Sev.”

  She lifted both eyebrows, indicating she was listening.

  “Just how extensive is that clock portal network of yours?”

  Without a moment of hesitation she answered frankly, “How much trouble will I be in if I tell you?”

  “That extensive, eh?” Sarsen inclined his head in her direction. “Your Majesty, I think there’s your answer.”

  Aren stared at her with wide eyes. “You have clocks in other countries?!”

  She gave him quite the look for that. “Of course I do. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

  “I will need to use it,” Aren said firmly, ignoring the insulting part of her response.

  “You know, part of the reason why I was so reluctant for you to know about the clocks to begin with is because I knew this would be inevitable,” she informed him tartly. “Eventually, one of you would figure out just how many clocks I have, and roughly where, and then you would be demanding to use them all the time and abuse the privilege.”

  A wry smile quirked up the corners of Sarsen’s mouth. “And you’re the only one that should be able to abuse the privilege.”

  “Precisely.” She gave him a regal nod, glad someone understood.

  “Sevana,” Bel sighed in a long, gusty breath, “Are you really going to let all of our efforts fall to waste just because you don’t want us to use your clocks?”

  “But when the other kings know about it, they’ll want to use them too!” she protested, feeling like pouting. She well understood that the clocks needed to be used to solve this emergency, but what about the next emergency? That’s what no one seemed to be thinking of.

  Aren rose from his chair and came to kneel in front of her on one knee. Axelrad let out a short, inarticulate protest, quickly cut off as Aren waved him down. The king met the Artifactor’s eyes without flinching. “Sevana. Please.”

  She huffed out a breath and grabbed him by the shoulder, cloth warm in her hands, pulling the man upwards. “Oh, stop that. Of course I’ll let you use them.”

  Smiling, Aren rose back to his feet and said formally, “Thank you.”

  She shooed him back to his chair, still a little irritated. Once the clocks were well known, people would be more cautious about buying them, which meant she would have to create some other secret portal system. Curse it. It’d been hard enough thinking up the first system.

  “Sev, I repeat,” Sarsen drawled in amusement, “just how extensive is your network?”

  Well, the cat had more or less escaped the bag. She might as well be frank on the details. With a wicked sense of anticipation, she answered sweetly, “I have multiple clocks in every palace of Mander.”

  Aren’s and Axelrad’s eyes nearly crossed at the thought. Bel just laughed out loud, one hand clamped to his stomach. “Of course you do!” he chortled. “Why aren’t I surprised.”

  “I’m not either,” Sarsen admitted, also chuckling. “You’re a bad girl, Sev.”

  Not bothered by this, she sat back in her chair, smug as a cat. “I have my moments. But if you want to contact the other kings and get them here quickly, we can certainly do so. Pick the day and time you want to go, and I’ll take you through.”

>   Aren gathered himself together enough to respond faintly, “I will. Although heavens above know how I’m going to explain that the reason I could get there was that they have multiple holes in their palace security.”

  “That’s the price you pay for using my clocks,” she replied kindly.

  “That and keeping her out of a dungeon once they do know,” Bel added dryly. “Father, I think we should approach the kings after we’ve talked to most of the country. We can’t make a good case with them unless we can promise them that we do still have support here.”

  “Yes, that’s wise,” Aren agreed. “Let’s sit down with a map and start planning out the logistics of this. We will, of course, require an Artifactor and a guard to go with us to each place.”

  “You can keep Axelrad,” Bel disagreed. “I can handle myself. Sev and I will partner up. You take Sarsen.”

  “You take Pierpoint,” Aren countered firmly. “I do not think it wise for just two people to be moving about.”

  Bel raised a hand in surrender. “Fine. Sevana, where’s a map?”

  They couldn’t, of course, just blindly go into any town or city and arrange for a public meeting. Bel sat down with Morgan, Hana, Axelrad and Aren to work out the logistics of who should go where. In the end, Morgan and Axelrad went out and met with people, sounding out who could be trusted to be the contact point. It took days to set up meeting times and places, spreading the word by hushed whispers to the townsfolk. They started with places that Morgan and Axelrad knew best, with people they trusted, but of course that couldn’t last forever. Eventually they would have to reach out to places that no one had been before, which made the situation even more dangerous than it already was.