The Child Prince (The Artifactor)

by Honor Raconteur

  “Come down, then,” Goethals encouraged, voice still heavily laden with suspicion. “My men shall not attack you until you give them provocation to do so.”

  Good enough. He’d had no intention of actually confronting either Goethals or Clasessens when he’d set out tonight, but now that the opportunity had arisen (so to speak) he’d be a fool to pass it up. Cautiously rising back to his feet, he took a peek over the edge of the roof. They weren’t aiming anything up at him, thankfully, and were waiting with impatience. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went.

  He swung himself over the short iron railing, using the decorative stone along the side of the building as footholds as he climbed down. The stone fence of the two townhouses abutted against each other so closely that mere inches separated them. Bellomi didn’t do anything more than walk along the fence of the house he’d been on to the adjoining stone wall of Goethals’ estate. When there, he stepped off the wall and leapt the last seven feet to the ground, lightly landing so that his knees bent and absorbed the impact.

  Goethals waited as he walked toward him, stepping out of the shadowy corner of the gardens and into the mellow lamplight near the doors. The bodyguard put himself a half-step in front of his master, looking at him warily, one hand on something inside of his coat. Just what had he used to shoot at Bellomi, anyway? He didn’t see a bow on the man. Something like a slingshot?

  Bellomi stopped five feet away, close enough for the light to cover him and for both men to be able to properly see each other, but far enough to pose no immediate threat.

  Goethals stared at him with a furrowed, thoughtful look. “I believe I know you,” he said slowly.

  “It’s been ten years since we last saw each other, Lord Goethals.” With a crooked smile, he swept the man a half-bow. “I’m Bellomi Dragonmanovich.”

  For a split second, no one in the courtyard believed him. Then Goethals’s eyes flared wide and he let out a harsh, wordless exclamation, reaching out toward Bellomi with a shaking hand. “Y-your Highness!”

  That expression of outright relief and joy on Goethals’ face put to bed any lingering doubts he had about the man. Bellomi relaxed into a sincere smile. “Goethals. It’s been some time but I am glad to see that in my and my father’s absence, you tried to take care of my people.”

  Goethals shook his head, a tear running down his cheek. “Your Highness, I do not deserve such words. But your father. If you are free, then is his Majesty also?”

  “Yes.” Bellomi shrugged and admitted frankly, “I was the one that kidnapped him.”

  The man choked, almost laughing, but mostly relieved. He put a hand to his heart and let out a long breath. “Your Highness, I am incredibly happy to hear that. But I must meet with him. There are things that I must tell him, tell you both.”

  Speaking with Goethals directly would certainly be more informative than listening in on council meetings. Bellomi didn’t see a problem with this. “I’m inclined to agree. However, I do not believe we should do it here. I know of a more secure location that we should move to. Do you have a magic post?” Most noblemen had one installed within their homes.

  “I do, Your Highness.” Goethals perked up. “Can we contact the king that way?”

  “No, but close enough.” Now how to word the message so that Sevana would agree to let yet another stranger inside of her mountain….

  ~ ~ ~

  Sevana spread the word at every meeting—if anyone could remember anything suspicious from ten years ago, report it to her or Kip. She didn’t really hold much hope out for that, but she never underestimated the network of servants. People noticed and retained the oddest things, and if their memory had been sufficiently jogged, they would remember it and pass it on.

  She heaved a sigh and looked around her. The meeting this time had been set up in the nearby woods of Sanat, near the outskirts of Klose. She felt distinctly uneasy being here, just because of Klose’s nearness to Lockbright palace. Granted, it would take a good half a day or more for anyone to reach them from the palace, but still…

  Bel stood atop a fallen tree trunk so that everyone could see him, although in the dimming light, that became more challenging. People had set up lamps and torches all around the small clearing so people had more light to see by, but the denseness of the forest around them swallowed the light. Sevana cocked an ear toward the forest, but aside from some very noisy tree frogs and the burbling of a nearby stream, she didn’t hear anything. She rubbed her arms absently, feeling the chill as the night settled in. They were well into fall now, with the colored leaves falling and the air distinctly nippy. Enough so that she wished she’d grabbed a warm cloak instead of just the jacket.

  She and Sarsen stood behind Bel, as usual, partially as a guard just in case things went wrong, but also so they could watch the crowd better. Bel would often ask them for their impressions of people’s reactions afterwards. While he spoke, he found it difficult to gauge his listener’s reactions at the same time.

  After listening to the same speech seven times in a row, she paid absolutely no attention to what he said. Sarsen put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear to murmur, “We might want to cut this short tonight. I don’t like being so close to the palace.”

  “You and me both,” she muttered back. “He’s almost done, though.”

  Sarsen gave a judicious look at the crowd, who were starting to fire questions at Bel, mostly about his future plans. “I know this is working, after all he’s gaining support, but word’s spreading too fast about his reappearance.”

  Sevana gave a sour grunt. Goethals had reported this morning that the Council had become aware of Bel’s and Aren’s secret meetings all over the country. They still didn’t know where they were based or how they were managing to get all over the country so quickly. Fortunately. But sooner or later, someone would figure it out. Sevana personally hoped for later, as sooner would give them way too many problems to deal with. Still, the fact that the Council knew what they were doing made everyone nervous. That meant that their element of surprise had been snatched away.

  Bel finally stepped down from the trunk, stepping forward and shaking people’s hands, speaking with them individually. Sevana stepped around, heading for him, fully intending to drag him away by the elbow if she needed to. But halfway there, he turned to face her and waved her forward. “Sevana. This woman needs to speak to you. She has some information for you.”

  For her? Sevana looked at the woman he gestured to, taking her in with a quick glance. A portly matron, she looked to be in her late forties or so, hair drawn back in a tidy bun, dark dress neat as a pin. She glanced uncertainly from prince to Artifactor.

  “Artifactor Warran has been tasked by the king to find the man that cursed us,” Bel said to the matron, smile kind. “It’s best you tell everything to her, as she knows more than I do about the investigation at this point. Sevana, this is Holly Springer.”

  Sevana gave the woman a nod of greeting and a professional smile. “Mistress Springer. Come aside so I can hear you properly.” The crowd around Bel had enough volume to wake up a dead man.

  The matron lifted her chin a little, determined, and said, “Of course. Godspeed, Your Highness,” she said to Bel with a slightly dazzled smile. “We’re all with you.”

  “Thank you,” he responded charmingly. (Now, when and where had he learned to smile like that? Kip’s lessons aside, he didn’t know how to do that before.)

  Sevana waited, not entirely patiently, for the matron to tear herself away and come to speak with her and Sarsen. Fortunately, the woman’s good sense returned when she left the prince’s side and she spoke rationally as she said, “I heard that you were looking for odd happenings and such from ten years back. Well, I can keep you here all year with tales like that, but thing is, this week it happened again.”

  “What did?” Sarsen asked patiently.

  “My husband and I run an inn,” the woman started, warming up to her story. �
�We’re on the outskirts of Lockbright, right on the edge of the poorer section of town, although that wasn’t always so. But we’ve got a good crowd that comes in, for the most part.”

  Sevana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Would this woman just get to the point already?

  “But nigh on ten years ago, a woman comes in that just don’t belong,” Holly continued. She almost lowered her voice, as if passing on good gossip. “We get that from time to time, for the rooms upstairs, y’know. But this time, the woman that came in had money to her. Oh, she dressed plain enough, but it was all of good cut and quality. And she didn’t stay long, not more than five minutes. She went into a back room with a weasel of a man that I know is no good, and then another man that gave me chills went into the same room. In minutes, the woman came back out again, went straight to her coach and—” Holly snapped her fingers “—gone, just like that. I barely could turn my head before the other two men were gone too. Strange business, I tell you.”

  Sevana glanced at Sarsen, and the man gave her speaking look. That certainly did sound like an underhanded deal being brokered.

  “And this week, it happened again,” Holly exclaimed. “If it weren’t strange enough to happen the first time! Same woman, same two men. But this time, I’d heard about you looking for the man who’d cursed our king and prince, and I didn’t leave them alone in that room. I snuck into the one next door, so I could hear. They kept their voices low at first, so I didn’t catch much, but then the woman started yelling and cursing.”

  “What did she say?” Sarsen pressed. “Do you remember?”

  “Something about her offering good money, and him not doing the job properly the first time.” Holly spread her hands helplessly. “She could swear like a sailor, that one, and that’s mostly what she did. Not a lot of what she said made much sense. But the man stormed out first this time, and the little weasel one followed real quick-like. I came out of the room quick, too, wanting to follow her. She kept her hood up, like last time, but as I came out the door into the back stable yard, I saw her climb into the coach.”

  “Was there a crest on the coach?” Sevana asked, holding her breath.

  “She was too careful for that,” Holly responded, eyes crinkled in amusement. “But she’s not so clever as she thinks, that one. Oh, she rode in a plain carriage and wore plain clothes, but she still had her man drive her. And I recognized him, I did. He’s Chelli Barton’s son, who works for the Verlinden’s.”

  Sevana didn’t know whether to laugh or clap the woman on the back. “You’re sure?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve known that boy his whole life. He even gave me a wave as he drove out of the yard.” Holly shook her head, wonderingly. “Did the woman not think at all? We’ve eyes, don’t we? Of course we’d recognize one of our own.”

  Yes, the arrogance of the nobility would make such a stupid mistake. She probably hadn’t even thought about her driver being recognized. Sevana rubbed at her chin, thinking hard. “This might not be the right person, but I must admit…the timing of all of this is a little too coincidental.”

  “It’s a near perfect match for it to not be tied in, somehow,” Sarsen agreed. To Holly he gave her a smile. “Thank you, Mistress. This might not be what we’re looking for, but it surely speaks of trouble, and the king wants to know about things of this sort. If the woman comes again, can you tell us?”

  “Morgan Chansamone would actually be the best person to contact,” Sevana added.

  “Oh, I will,” Holly assured them, visibly pleased to be of help.

  “This weasel man that you mentioned,” Sarsen started slowly, eyes narrowed. “You said you knew him to be a bad sort.”

  “He’s a snitch, that one.” Holly made a sour face. “Always doing shifty deals. He’s like as not wake up one morning with a dagger in the back, the way he goes on.”

  “So you know him enough to point him out?”

  “More than that,” Holly assured him. “Name is Ticker Sullivan. He comes to our place regularly, as we have private rooms to let. Although why we still cater to the likes of him is a wonder to me. My husband never turns him off, though.”

  “Don’t scare him off,” Sevana advised. “We want to know where that man is. We have a lot of questions to ask him, after all.”

  Holly gave her a sage nod. “That I won’t.”

  “For now, though…” Sarsen looked up and around. “We need to move. We’ve been here too long. Mistress Springer, thank you.”

  “Not at all.” With a bobbed curtsey, the woman turned away and went back to the crowd.

  “You get His Princeliness,” Sevana motioned Sarsen forward, “and I’ll get the horses.”

  Sarsen shrugged agreement. “And when we get back, you get Morgan. I think we need to track down a certain snitch.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “You’re right, the timing is too precise for that to be a coincidence.” Aren sat back in his chair with a thoughtful frown, absently rubbing his chin with one hand.

  Sarsen had gone straight to the king once they’d returned to Big. Sevana chose to go to the main room simply so she could take over the couch and put her feet up, so even though she didn’t intend to report anything, she got roped into it regardless. Aren turned immediately to her and asked, “Can we set a trap for this woman? Using the weasel-informant as bait.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Sevana agreed. “Obviously negotiations didn’t work as well last time. She’s probably still looking for some underhanded thug to do her dirty work. I’ll set Kip on it.”

  “Excellent, please do so.” Aren rubbed a hand over his eyes, looking beyond weary for a moment. “It might not be the one we’re looking for, but I certainly want to know what she’s up to. But for now, it looks like things are going apace. We have several more meetings set up, but I don’t feel it necessary to attend to all of them before we contact the other kings. We have the support we need from the majority of the country now.”

  True, that. “So should we contact them tomorrow?”

  “That would be best. Err…” Aren gave her a rueful look. “I don’t suppose that you have a way of contacting the other kings that doesn’t require stepping through your clocks? I’d rather not be treated as an intruder when going to ask for a favor.”

  And she’d so been looking forward to seeing Aren caught by the guards in a foreign palace…. She gave a resigned sigh and said truthfully, “I do have another method. It’s rather indirect, as I can only contact the magicians serving in the palaces, but I think it’ll do.”

  Aren looked relieved. “That should do fine. Thank you.”

  “But I’ll let Sarsen help you with that.” Stifling a yawn, she said, “I have a bed calling to me.” With a heave, she got to her feet and trudged out the door, stifling another yawn as she did so.

  “Don’t forget to contact Kip about the trap!” Sarsen called after her.

  She waved in acknowledgement, but she had no intention of doing any more work until tomorrow. She and her pillow had a rendezvous that she had no intention of missing.

  Owwww. What happened? Sevana managed to crack open an eye through sheer willpower and peer around. Her cheek lay smashed into hard stone, an oddly familiar feeling, and for some reason her legs were highly elevated compared to her torso. A trickle of dust snuck into her nose and she sneezed violently, making her body flop so that all of her slid straight to the floor. Lying on her back, the coldness of the stone seeped quickly through her shirt and sent a shiver dancing over her skin. The coolness helped revive her mind enough for her to force both eyes open this time and she looked blearily up. Oh. Her ceiling. So…she was in her bedroom?

  Countless previous experiences told her what had happened without her needing to deduce anything. Big had dumped her out of her bed again. Which meant that someone needed for her to wake up and didn’t have the guts to do it themselves. She entertained the notion, briefly, of tracking said varmint down and cursing him. In her not-awake state, a simple frog-morphing
spell would suffice.

  “Big. Who wants me awake?”

  Kip, the mountain sighed.

  That took several moments to process before she managed to think of the next obvious question. “Why?”

  Don’t know. Said important.

  True, Kip never resorted to this tactic unless something important had happened and he really had no other choice but to wake her up. After her last conversation with Sarsen, she’d had every intention of tracking Kip down today anyway.

  Sarsen and Aren had ‘borrowed’ her Caller and research room to contact the kings and bring them into the loop. There’d been a lot of incredulous, “They’ve done WHAT?!”s from the kings. In the end, it hadn’t taken much persuasion to get the other monarchs to agree to eavesdrop on the late night Council meeting Goethals had informed Aren about. But this timing meant that Sevana and Kip had roughly a week to catch their assassin. Heaving a sigh, she rolled and pushed herself up to her feet, shuffling around her bedroom without bothering to properly open her eyes.

  Sevana had been here for years, and had never once changed the layout of her bedroom in all that time. Her four-poster bed sat squarely in the center of the room, with a dresser on either side of it that sat low enough for her to set books and lamps on it. A large chest rested at the end of her footboard, which she normally tossed clothes on, completely burying it from view most of the time. A wingback chair in the corner suffered from the same fate, although she tended to throw her coats and cloaks there. The only decoration that she’d ever bothered to do in this room sat on the mantel of the fireplace—a beautifully rendered sculpture of a dragon in mid-flight that the people of Vash Village had given her. It sat prominently displayed on the wide, marble mantel, with nothing else around it.

  Making inarticulate groaning noises, she maneuvered around her room with dragging feet, dressing in the first clothes that came to hand. Only luck would determine if they coordinated or not. But with her favorite trousers, plain blouse, and vest on, she felt slightly more revived. Enough, at least, that she ran a brush through her hair and bothered to put on her boots before actually leaving the room.