The Fractured Empire: Book Seven of the Disinherited Prince Series

by Guy Antibes

  “Indeed.” Deena looked at Akil. “I’d be happy to help you with your language. There are a lot of opportunities to learn new words as you walk through the city.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “I would be happy to. I have to do something when my friends are out of town, don’t I?” She looked at Shira and Loa and grinned.

  ~

  Loa would be traveling with them as far as Kell’s home country of Fen. Kell, Shira, disguised as Pol’s male assistant, and Pol would be heading north to Ziastya’s border with West Huffnya. From that point onward, Shira and Pol would travel alone.

  They hired a carriage for Loa, and Shira and Kell took turns riding with the Shardian woman on the way. They came across a string of towns that didn’t look friendly until the three magicians walked through the town removing mind-control from the citizens. The Winnowers had, unfortunately, been active in the area.

  Pol and Kell had walked into an inn to get rooms for the night when a group of five men strutted inside. They pushed Kell aside.

  “Rooms for five,” one of the men said to the innkeeper.

  “After I’ve taken care of these gentlemen,” the innkeeper said.

  “Imperials?” the man sneered.

  Pol quickly put a shield on Kell and the innkeeper and reinforced the shields he constantly had active.

  The man summoned one of his friends over and nodded towards the innkeeper.

  The new man looked at the innkeeper, who rubbed his forehead. “You will take care of us first and give us your best rooms.”

  “No, I won’t. Just be patient and wait your turn,” the innkeeper said.

  The two friends looked at each other just as Pol put them all to sleep.

  The innkeeper leaned over the counter. “What happened to them?”

  “They were tired from stirring up trouble,” Pol said. “Do you have a room where we can drag them? They should wake up soon.”

  Kell, Poll, the innkeeper, and one of the grooms dragged the men into an empty room for private parties.

  Pol pulled out the badge that he had kept with him. “I am a Yastan official. I work for the Emperor. I think these men are stirring up trouble, spreading lies about the Emperor and the Empire.”

  “Oh,” the innkeeper said. “They were unlucky to run into you,”

  “Not as much luck,” Pol said. “They have caused a ruckus in the last five towns along this road. We just ran into them at your inn,” Pol said.

  Shira and Loa walked in. “Do we have our rooms, yet?”

  “Oh,” Loa said. “These men are warded.”

  Pol looked at the figures of the men and saw a metallic sheen around them. He took his long knife and tapped it on one man’s chest. The sword did not touch him. Pol waved his hand over all the men.

  “I was so intent on their bad behavior that I didn’t even notice.”

  Loa giggled. “You do that so casually. I don’t have the power to do that.”

  “It’s a Pol Cissert specialty,” Shira said. “What do we do with them?”

  Kell glanced at Pol. All their eyes were on him.

  “Why don’t you look for mind-control?” Pol said to Loa.

  She glanced at them. “None exists.”

  Pol knew what he had to do. Killing the men did not appeal to him, but he could not let them go. With the magician, the town might not be able to hold them. “We will take the Winnowers with us in the carriage.”

  “Out of town?” Shira said.

  Pol nodded “Out of town.”

  “We have a little strolling to do tonight?” Kell said.

  “Like the last six towns,” Loa said.

  ~

  Kell and Pol took the still-sleeping men out of the carriage and used the shovels they purchased in the last town to dig a deep hole in a small wood. Pol took care of the men magically, stopping their hearts. None of the men showed any signs of pain as he put them into an eternal sleep.

  Kell rolled them into the hole and began to cover the bodies. Pol had to sit for a while, with Shira holding his hand.

  “I’ve killed my share of men,” Pol said, “but it doesn’t get any easier to kill someone who is not trying to kill me.”

  “If they knew who you were, they wouldn’t have hesitated,” Kell said. “You never did get over this kind of thing.”

  “I thought I had,” Pol said. He took a deep, shuddering breath and rose. “It was necessary, and I did it, didn’t I?” He took another breath.

  “You aren’t a coward,” Shira said. “A coward couldn’t kill them, but you did. For you, it’s an exercise of courage.”

  “Is that what you call it? It doesn’t feel like courage,” Pol said. “Put a sword in their hand, and I’d have no qualms.” He shook his head. “Let’s go.”

  Pol shuddered one more time as he felt the life leave the last Winnower that he had killed. He knew these were only the beginning of more Winnowers who would fall by his hand. They headed back to the road and left the grave.

  Back on the road, Shira motioned for Pol to ride far enough away from the carriage, that Kell drove with Loa sitting beside him in the driver’s seat.

  “When I was on my way to Deftnis, I had a similar situation. We had taken quite a few prisoners, soldiers from North Salvan. I gave Captain Corior tacit permission to kill them. We couldn’t let them go back to North Salvan, and South Salvan has already taken too many prisoners to safely retain them. I didn’t like it anymore that you do now. I couldn’t bring myself to end their lives. That was a measure of cowardice. Do you think I am a coward?”

  “No,” Pol said. “You made the right decision. Do you think you were responsible for the men’s deaths?”

  “I do.”

  Pol could see her eyes welling with tears. “Let’s make sure that we take the appropriate responsibility for our acts. No more talk of cowardice. I don’t take lives with glee,” he said.

  “Nor do I.”

  Pol nodded curtly. “Then we are together in this?”

  Shira managed a smile. “We are.”

  “Why don’t you get Loa back into the carriage? That driver’s seat is probably very hard for a pregnant woman.”

  “Amble thinks you are a wonderful person,” Shira said.

  “Demeron, I am sure, thinks the same about you.” Pol patted Demeron’s neck.

  The Shinkyan stallion nodded his head and whinnied.

  Pol grasped Shira’s hand and motioned her up ahead. He had missed sharing his feelings during his four-year absence. On the ship, he wondered if they both might have grown apart during their separation, but that had not happened. If anything, Pol felt that their experiences had brought them into a better alignment.

  ~

  Trollhem, the capital of Fen, sat on a large river that rolled down from the spine of mountains that went from the western part of the Kingdom of Lake that curved east and dwindled along the border of the Kingdom of Hentz. He liked the steep-pitched roofs of many of the buildings.

  “Where did the name of your capital come from?” Pol asked, riding in the driver’s seat with Kell handling the reins. Demeron and Amble consented to being tied to the back along with Kell’s horse for appearance’s sake.

  “Trolls. There is a legend of a woman who saved herself from being eaten by trolls by repairing their clothes. For some reason, whoever founded the city had a fixation on the story. That’s what my father told me, anyway. I doubt if it’s true. Trolls only exist in storybooks.”

  “His mother might have told him the story to make him pause to help his enemies if he wanted to survive.”

  Kell shrugged. “The city is centuries old, so who cares? Trollhem is its name.”

  “I like the architecture. Do the houses need the high-pitched roofs?”

  Kell shook his head. “I don’t think so, but it gives Trollhem its own character. Here we are.” He stopped the carriage at a large gate. The Digbee estate in town seemed to be as big as Lord Boria’s compound in Axtopol in Zasos.
Kell jumped down and pulled on a cord that rang the bell that Pol heard.

  A burly man opened the gate and spotted Kell, now back on the carriage. “Master Digbee! Your father doesn’t expect you, does he?”

  Kell grinned. “I have brought Loa home and two friends. Let us in.”

  The man stepped aside and let Kell drive the carriage into a large courtyard. Boxes and crates took up half the space.

  “We ran out of warehouse space,” the burly man said.

  “That’s not a bad thing, as long as the freight doesn’t stay.”

  “It will all be out within the week. I’ll tell your father you’ve arrived and get some lads out to take care of the horses and carriage. Did you hire it?”

  “Bought it for a good price. I’ll be taking it back to Yastan. I’ll sell it for a profit there.”

  “Good for you, Master Kell,” the man said as he disappeared from the courtyard.

  Three teenagers ran out and began unhitching the carriage. Pol grabbed Shira’s things from Amble and his own from Demeron.

  “Keep Amble company,” Pol said.

  I am happy to do that, Demeron said.

  “Good. I’ll be back out to find you if I get some time tonight.”

  I’ll look forward to it.

  Kell urged Pol into the house. He had little in his hands, but then his friend had more confidence in his servants. Pol had learned to keep his important items close. Kell showed them into an impressive foyer. It reached all the way to the ceiling, lined with a medium-colored deep-grained wood. Pictures of ancestors looked at them from pictures on the walls.

  Pol could see why Kell entered Deftnis as a spoiled son of a lord. His father lived as well as any noble Pol knew.

  “Trading can be lucrative,” Pol said.

  “So can being the son of a king…or an Emperor,” Kell said.

  “I guess we all have notable parents,” Shira said.

  “Notable might not quite describe my father,” Loa said with a smile. “Maybe notorious,”

  A matronly woman walked in. “Kell! I thought Jimm joked about you arriving unannounced.” She brightened even more when she noticed Loa. “And how is my daughter-in-law doing?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Loa said. Her smile was too coy.

  “Expected as in expecting?”

  She grinned and nodded her head vigorously. Kell’s mother hurried to Loa with open arms and hugged her.

  “Where is Father?” Kell said.

  “Down at the port. Where else would he be? Are you going to tell him?” she said with her arm around Loa.

  “It’s not a secret any longer, is it?” Loa said.

  “Then go, after you’ve introduced these two people.” Kell’s mother looked at Shira. “You are Shinkyan, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “Of course you are. You must be Shira, and that means that you are Pol? I thought you were missing.”

  “I returned not long ago.”

  “From what I gather, that will relieve quite a few people, not the least our Emperor, Hazett III. Have you had something to eat? I’ll fix it myself,” she said. “Our cook is out shopping for dinner. We’ll let Loa and Kell tell my husband the good news while we get acquainted.”

  “If you don’t mind?” Kell said.

  “Go,” Shira said.

  Kell took Loa by the hand. “The docks aren’t far,” he said as they disappeared out the front door.

  “My Kell has talked and talked about his adventures in Volia, and both of you were entwined in every story he told. Come with me into my kitchen and let me ask questions you’ve probably answered lots of times.”

  Pol and Shira followed Kell’s mother down a long hall, past a large dining room, and into a good-sized kitchen.

  “We don’t entertain as much as my husband’s father did. Kell’s father is all business. Kell has a long, long wait before he’ll take over the family trading company.”

  “Aren’t there a lot of uncles and cousins in your business?” Pol said.

  “There are, but we own the most shares. Kell will get those. He’s learned a lot since we sent him to Deftnis. Whatever you did to tone that boy down made him a much better person. I couldn’t wait to get rid of him and his snotty ways, but when he came back from Volia with Loa…” she shook her head. “I even like him now and love my Shardian daughter-in-law. I can’t wait to see what their baby will look like.” She giggled as she put a frying pan on the stove. The cook must have left the fire stoked.

  “I can cook eggs and bacon best. It’s breakfast food, but the key thing is that it’s food, right?”

  “Right,” Shira said, beaming at Pol.

  While the pan warmed, Kell’s mother cut an onion, diced a tomato, and sliced cheese into tiny strips. She took two bottles of herbs from a cabinet. “Secret stuff,” she said conspiratorially.

  Pol felt a bit sad that his own mother was years gone. Shira did not have any kind of relationship with hers, but this woman was warm, lively, and friendly.

  She cooked the bacon first and set it on a towel to drain. She removed some of the bacon grease, pouring it into a tall narrow crock, and then cooked the onions and set them aside. She put some milk in a bowl and cracked a dozen eggs into it. She put the herbs and some salt and pepper and mixed that up and then poured the mixture into the pan and let one side cook before throwing the onions, crumbled bacon, tomatoes, and cheese in. She let it cook a bit more and carefully folded the egg over into a large half-circle.

  “This is my masterpiece.”

  “An omelet?” Pol said. “I’ve never seen one made before.”

  “But you must have had one a few times.”

  “When I was a prince. They do not serve them at Deftnis, too many monks to make something so fancy. It looks delicious.”

  “I’ve never had one,” Shira said. Bacon is not something that Shinkyans eat. Most of our breakfasts are served cold, except for porridge or soup.”

  “You’ll eat this one, or you can’t sleep under my roof,” the woman said. She cackled and said, “Just kidding. Try it anyway.”

  “I’m well-accustomed to Imperial tastes by now,” Shira said.

  The woman cut the omelet into thirds and plated a section for each of them.

  “Kell won’t eat this cold, and my husband won’t either, so enjoy. Now about my questions…”

  Pol and Shira were surprised Kell had told his parents so much about their Volian adventures and equally impressed with his mother’s memory and the penetrating questions that she asked.

  “Loa told us as much as Kell and from a decidedly different point of view,” the woman said.

  The cook walked through the door carrying five cloth bags of meat and produce. “Been into my eggs again? I hope you left enough for dinner.”

  “Of course I did. It is good to get in a little practice. What if you drop dead some day, and it’s up to me to feed my husband?”

  “Your husband would hasten to escort you to one of Trollhem’s fine restaurants rather than eat an endless line of your omelets,” the cook said and then laughed and looked at Pol and Shira. “I’ve tried to teach her other dishes, but a servant can only beat on her mistress so much.”

  ~

  Kell and Loa sat on a couch in an intimate study upstairs facing Pol and Shira on another couch.

  Kell looked around, “This used to be a bedroom, but it was converted into a classroom where I learned my basics from a tutor. When I left for Deftnis, my father wanted a reading place away from it all. He rarely gets time to read.”

  “It’s cozy,” Shira said, snuggling next to Pol.

  “Don’t get too relaxed,” Kell said. “My father didn’t want to talk about it at dinner. Mother gets upset about unpleasant things happening.”

  “She may get upset, but she’s very interested in what goes on. I think you need to give her a bit more credit,” Shira said.

  “There is lots of talk at the docks about the Winnow Society, and the revolution is openly talked abo
ut,” Loa said.

  “Mind-control?” Pol asked Loa.

  “Here and there,” she said. “Nothing widespread. They were probably turned elsewhere. I removed as many of the spells as I could. Kell’s father thinks that if enough mind-controlled people convince normal citizens that something is wrong with the Empire, the result will be the same as if everyone was ensorcelled.

  “More magicians are going to have to tour the countryside, I’m afraid,” Pol said. “I’ll report using the rune book. I’ve never told Malden about the magicians that we dispatched along the way.”

  “You’ve been regretting the incident?” Kell said.

  “Maybe that’s it.” Pol fidgeted with his hands and took a deep breath. “I’ll work on it now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Pol went to his room. It might have been a servant’s room at one time, but the furnishings were much nicer than a servant would get. He pulled out the rune book and went to the ten-page section that matched with Malden’s book.

  As he put a stylus on the page to activate the tiny dots, he pulled back and grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pencil. He wrote three drafts of the report until the last message satisfied Pol.

  He started at a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” he said.

  Shira walked to him. “Not sent yet?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

  Pol grabbed it. “This is tougher than I thought. My first message was too apologetic. I don’t need to apologize for what I did.”

  “I know you don’t,” Shira said, kneeling at his side. Taking the draft that he handed her, she read his words. “I haven’t had the opportunity to read your writing much.”

  “We never have sent letters to one another,” Pol said.

  “No need when we are together, is there?”

  Pol shook his head.

  “I couldn’t do better than this. I think it’s the right tone.”

  “I know,” Pol said. “Do you want to watch me activate the runes?”

  “I just like to watch you.”

  Pol took the paper back, picked up the stylus, and used it as a guide to activating the dots. The writing took on the tweak’s glow. His report took nearly four pages of the rune book. He tweaked in the code that he and Malden arranged.