The Disinherited Prince

by Guy Antibes

  “I can’t see the coin,”

  “Try until you do. The coin is part of the pattern.”

  Pol tried five or six more times until he sensed the presence of the coin in the grid that Malden had talked about, and then as he concentrated, Pol suddenly felt that the coin was part of the pattern. He visualized it moving one grid over and then another, and another. He left the trance and realized that he had moved the coin.

  “You didn’t move it, did you?”

  Malden shook his head, grinning. “Very good. Knowing how to do that would get you admitted into any monastery that taught magic.”

  Not that it would do him any good, but Pol smiled with the praise. “Can I try it again?”

  The pair of them worked another hour on moving the coin. Pol finally was able to fully visualize the coin moving from square to square on the pattern in his head. He looked at the carpet in front of the door and pictured a long part of the grid to the carpet and moved the coin over the table and onto the floor in the precise place that Pol desired it to be.

  “How is that?”

  “Very good. I had hoped to get you to successfully nudge the coin, but you surprised me, as usual. Shall I order dinner to celebrate?”

  ~

  After sword training the next day, Paki pulled Pol aside. “My Dad would like to talk to you.”

  Paki stood to the side of the door to the armory, while Pol took off a padded jerkin and put away his sword.

  “This way,” Paki said.

  Pol followed after him and soon realized he was headed for the Royal Gardens. They entered the garden, and Siggon rose from planting some flowers.

  “Kelso said you might want to resume training in botany and other things.”

  Pol figured that ‘other things’ meant woodcraft and stealth. He nodded his head. “I think I do.”

  “Good. Figure out a time when you can be with Paki and me for an hour or two every day. You need to learn a lot. Come see me tomorrow. Wear something suitable for spending a night in the forest.”

  “I will,” Pol said. He looked forward to learning from Siggon again. He expected that his training would be at a different level than the casual instruction before his poisoning. “I have an appointment with someone else right now, if you will excuse me.”

  Pol hustled inside the castle and changed his clothes and ran to Malden’s chambers. He was thoroughly out of breath when he knocked on the magician’s door.

  “I’ll be right there, Pol.”

  Malden knew who stood at his door, so Pol looked out at the pattern, as he called it and saw three people in Malden’s rooms. He knew Malden’s color, but he had no idea who the others were.

  “You have guests?” Pol said, as Malden opened the door.

  The magician’s eyes widened a bit at Pol’s question and then broke into a grin. He looked over his shoulder. “I do indeed. Come in, and I’ll introduce you.”

  Pol walked in.

  “Prince Poldon, this is Valiso Gasibli.” Malden pointed to a short, dark, curly-haired man. He had a thin mustache and a patch of beard underneath his lower lip. “And this is Namion Threshell. Both of them come to Borstall from Volia and are passing through on the way to the Deftnis Monastery.

  Namion looked much younger than Valiso, perhaps Landon’s age. They both had a certain posture, tight like the drawn string of a bow. Valiso, especially, looked dangerous.

  “They carry messages for me.”

  Pol didn’t ask why since it wasn’t his business. “I thought we were going to spend some time tonight.” Pol looked at Malden, somewhat embarrassed for barging in.

  “I am sorry we will have to postpone our session until tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Pol chewed his lip for a moment. No one said a thing in the awkward silence until Pol said something. “I’m to train with Siggon for a bit, but I wanted a time to give him. If we might work in the afternoons after sword practice?”

  Malden looked at the other two. “Early in the morning would be best to work in the gardens. See if Mistress Farthia will allow you a late start, then you can spend some time with Siggon right after an early breakfast.”

  Pol hadn’t expected Malden to solve his timing issue, but he appreciated Malden’s suggestion. “I will. Excuse me for barging in.” Pol bowed slightly to the two men, who bowed deeply to Pol. “Tomorrow, then?”

  Malden nodded while Pol didn’t waste any time escaping from Malden’s rooms. He couldn’t help but wonder what business those two men had with the magician. He would try to work up the courage to ask Malden about them the next time they met.

  He strolled back to the kitchen and decided to eat an early dinner and then read more in the religion text in the classroom. Later, when his eyes began to droop reading about a sect in southern Volia that worshipped a crocodile god and practiced child sacrifice, he jerked his head up.

  Pol didn’t want nightmares about little boys being killed and eaten by priests, so he closed the book and put his pen and paper on the proper shelf. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the book on the table.

  Patterns, he thought. He sat down and put his two palms on the table and pictured a grid, including the book. If he could move a coin, he could move a book.

  The grid solidified in his mind, so Pol tried to move the book up a few inches from the table’s surface. He focused on the book and it did, indeed, float above the table surface, but after a moment it drifted down again all on its own. Pol looked over at Mistress Farthia’s desk.

  He imagined a larger grid that included the desk and moved the book from the map table to the other surface. Pol noticed that as he moved the book, that he became winded. He wiped his forehead and unexpectedly found that it was sweaty. So there was a limit to his talent. He stood up to bring the book back to the map table and felt a bit dizzy.

  He sat back down for a minute or two. Would Malden be mad at him? Pol didn’t know. He finally stood up and carried the massive tome back to the map table. Pol sought out his bed and slept that night, wondering what he had just learned in the classroom.

  ~~~

  Chapter Ten

  ~

  WHY DID THE EMPEROR HAVE TO COME? Pol thought as he plucked weeds and removed dead flowers from the garden. If King Astor had stayed in South Salvan, then the constant threat of injury or death that Pol felt might be significantly less if what the thugs had said were true. Pol just wanted to live without any stress. He wanted to ride out into his father’s hunting preserve and hunt with Paki and learn stealth from Siggon without having to worry about arrows or poison. Such a vision of happiness didn’t seem to be a near-term possibility.

  Siggon called both boys into the little wood and lectured them about being aware of where one’s body was and how to conceal it. Pol found the instructions enlightening. He thought of the trees and bushes being the pattern and his movements as a disruption that needed to be minimized in order not to be noticed.

  They practiced moving among the trees. Pol did much better than Paki.

  “How did you do better than me?” Paki said.

  Pol looked at Siggon and then at his friend. “I tried to become as close to the woods. My thoughts were to be as close to the trees as possible.”

  “I’ve never told you that,” Siggon said, “but that is the key to moving through any territory or within any building without being seen.”

  Paki groaned. “How can anybody do that?”

  His friend obviously didn’t get it, but Pol did. He looked at Siggon who just nodded.

  “I have to go to the armory,” Pol said. With only a few days left to train, Mistress Farthia had given Pol the day off from study in order to get some individual training from Kelso Beastwell.

  Pol entered the armory and found Kelso talking to Valiso Gasibli.

  “Prince Poldon, I’d like you to meet—“

  “We’ve met before in Magician Malden’s chambers.” Pol bowed to the man. His eyes hadn’t warmed at all since he met him the first time.


  “You’ll be training with Valiso Gasibli as soon as he returns from Deftnis.”

  “Training?”

  “Val, I’ve known him for awhile, has a certain expertise in knives and other things that Malden and I think would be useful for you to pick up.”

  “What other things?” Pol said.

  Valiso smiled, but coldly. “Wars are not just fought on battlefields. I am an expert on the silent side of wars.”

  “Poisons? Assassinations?”

  “That may be part of it, but the silent side doesn’t dwell on death and destruction as much as learning things that your opponent doesn’t want you to know.”

  “You are a spy?”

  Valiso bowed to Pol. “That might be a better description of my talents than assassin.”

  “Stealth?” Pol said to Kelso.

  The Captain of the Guard nodded. “Siggon and I can only teach you so much.”

  Pol looked at Valiso and nodded his head. “I will call you Val and you can call me Pol.”

  “I suppose that means you will work with him?” Kelso said.

  “I will. Does that mean I won’t be spending time with Siggon?” Pol actually meant to say with Paki, but that might seem too selfish.

  “What you are doing with him is fine for now. Siggon was the best scout in his prime. He knows tricks that I’m sure Val doesn’t.”

  The spy nodded his head. “I will leave you now to take my companion to the monastery in Deftnis. I will return, and then we will spend the time you currently use training with a sword for other pursuits.”

  A change in tutors surprised Pol, but if he could learn to get comfortable around the man with the cold eyes and the cold smile, he might learn something useful that wouldn’t rob him of breath and make his heart pound in his head every session.

  Pol watched Valiso walk out of the armory and turned to Kelso. “Do you trust him?”

  “As much as I trust any man. He’s not a mercenary, although he occasionally sends the shivers down my spine. The Emperor uses him, and he’s coming to tutor you as a favor to Malden Gastonia. We worked together seven years ago in our war with Tarida to the north. That’s the war where your grandfather died. Hazett lent him to King Colvin for a season. He saved a lot of lives on both sides, he did.”

  Pol wondered how a spy could save lives.

  “You doubt me?” Kelso laughed. “Let me say that we knew what the Taridans were going to do as quickly as they did, and the war lasted just a few days after the unfortunate death that brought your father to the throne. Without the information that Val extracted, the war could have gone on for months.”

  Pol could extrapolate what that would mean, not only for the armies, but for the civilians caught up in the war’s path.

  ~

  Two mornings later, Pol worked alongside Paki, weeding patches in the Royal Gardens. Pol looked for patterns among the flowers, and to his surprise he found more than he thought he would. Not only were flowers more similar than they were different, but the number of sets of leaves was always the same. He thought flowers grew totally at random, but as he noticed the weeds that he pulled and deadheaded the flowers, he could perceive patterns, not necessarily order, but patterns.

  After half an hour of doing that, Siggon pulled the boys aside and took them to a grove of trees that stood in its own enclosure at the end of the gardens.

  “We will do additional work in here now that you two have warmed up by doing some constructive work,” Siggon said. “So, let’s review what I’ve taught you in the past. It’s been weeks since the poisoning.”

  Pol had to admit that this session bored him, but he learned nothing new, and Siggon made them practice walking without disturbing the ground for most of the time.

  Eventually, Siggon dismissed Pol. The morning’s program didn’t involve much physical exertion, so Pol washed his hands and changed his clothes before he made his appearance in front of Mistress Farthia.

  “I see you have been working outside,” she said from her desk, looking up after placing her finger on the passage that she had just read in the new-looking book in front of her.

  “I have. How did you know?”

  “Flushed face.” She looked back down and placed a bookmark in the book and closed it. “Now what should we do today?”

  “No religion, please.” Pol said, bringing a smile to Farthia’s face.

  “That’s fine. The Emperor’s arrival has been delayed, so he will arrive in another week or so. King Astor has come, as you know. I found that you weren’t included in the dinner for Bythia, Landon’s soon-to-be intended.”

  Pol stood, trying not to betray any emotion. “I know, Malden told me not to expect to interact with my family until the Emperor arrives.”

  Farthia frowned. “I think you should. Not to intimidate, but you must assert your position, as lowly as you might think it to be. There is a dinner tomorrow night. My assignment for you is to attend. I talked to your mother, the Queen, and she has agreed to set a place for you. It will be in the family dining room.”

  “My brothers and sister are likely to put up objections.”

  Mistress Farthia shook her head. “Not this time. They can’t demand your place be removed in front of your mother or a visiting royal family.”

  Pol wanted to make a face, but Farthia gave him a stern look. “You must go. Consider it a test for the Emperor’s visit, and no one really cares if you attend any more events until then.”

  “Even my mother?”

  Farthia took a breath and looked away from Pol. “She knows how tortured you are when attacked by your siblings. Queen Molissa has seen them interact with you enough. Now let’s go over trade routes between Borstall and the Volian Ports…”

  ~

  Kelso rubbed his hands together. “We will work on patterns today.”

  “Magic?”

  The man laughed and shook his head. “No, not magic, but tendencies of your opponent to repeat strokes and combinations.”

  Track thought back to his only real sword fight. “I already know what you are talking about.” He recounted his fight with the attacker on the street and pointed out the patterns that he saw then.

  “I remember you mentioned something about that, but I didn’t know you actually saw it as a pattern.”

  Pol considered his next words. “Malden has been teaching me about magic, so I had patterns on my mind.”

  Kelso nodded as if he knew, and that was fine with Pol. He had never told anyone about his magic lessons, not even Paki.

  “Good. I wondered if I had waited too long to tell you. You’ve done well enough for a fourteen-year-old, but I still doubt you have the stamina to last an entire tournament unless you put your opponents away as quickly as possible.”

  Pol had wondered about that as well. “So my strategy is to fight until I see a pattern to exploit and then win as soon as I can?”

  Kelso put his hand on Pol’s thin shoulder. “That’s the size of it, My Prince, but the matches will end more quickly if you already know your opponent’s patterns of fighting. Think of the tourney as five or six sparring sessions. How do you feel after each one?”

  “You know how tired I get.”

  “And no knives are allowed, no shields either. I know the other boys in your classification will be waiting for you to get fatigued enough so that you won’t last. I know you’ve improved your physical condition and your sword work matches up with the boys Grostin’s age, but there is only so much you can do.”

  They worked all morning long until after time for lunch. Pol finally developed a scheme for taking care of his opponents quickly, under Kelso’s expert tutelage. Kelso gave Pol a wooden sword to practice with imaginary opponents in his rooms until the day of the tournament.

  Pol dragged himself up to Malden’s chambers after he had washed and changed.

  “More tired than usual?” the magician said.

  Pol could only nod as he dropped to the couch. “I learned fighting pattern
s and how to exploit them. Kelso gave me some hope, since I didn’t really feel I could last through all those matches.”

  Malden chuckled. “That’s quite a change, My Prince. I’ve never seen you express hope in anything before.”

  “What?” Pol furrowed his brow. He didn’t know what the magician was getting at.

  “You expect to win all of your matches, don’t you?”

  Pol squinted his eyes at Malden. “Of course. I have Father’s reputation to uphold, and finally I have a chance to do something useful with this scrawny body of mine.” He pulled on his tunic. “I’ve got to get better so I can learn from your friend.”

  “Friend?”

  “Val.”

  The magician’s eyebrows shot up. “Val? You know him that well?”

  “He will be another tutor when he returns from the West. We met in the armory the morning after you introduced us. He scares me, but we decided to call each other by nicknames. He is Val and I—”

  “You are Pol?”

  The young prince nodded. “I am. He is going to teach me how to spy.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll teach you all about that. But I arranged for him to augment your weapons training. I think you need some additional perspective, and learning a bit about Val’s trade will give you an edge, no matter what happens in the future.”

  “Unless I am killed.”

  “Death has a habit of stopping a person’s endeavors, doesn’t it?” Malden said drily.

  Pol gulped, but continued on. “Now what do we have to do?”

  “Nothing. I want you to rest up for the next few days. It looks like Emperor Hazett’s arrival has been put off a bit more. The tournament will start the day after he arrives. Tonight you will be attending the family dinner with the Hairos?”

  “Farthia told me that I am required to attend.”

  Malden nodded. “I have an assignment for you, as well. Sniff out patterns. Listen to what Landon and Bythia have to say, and if you can, pick up patterns to understand what the adults talk about.”

  “I am a spy?”

  “Not at all,” Malden said. “It is an exercise in quick pattern recognition. You might find that there are bits and pieces of the conversation that won’t make as much sense as you hear it, but you will once you reflect on what was said and the pattern becomes clear.”