The Disinherited Prince

by Guy Antibes

  Val gave the ghost of a smile to Kelso. “He has a good mind, don’t you think?”

  Pol blinked at the compliment coming out of Val’s mouth. He thought the man despised him.

  “Smartest of King Colvin’s bunch, but not the most conniving.” Kelso looked nervously at Pol. “I’ll leave it at that.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t just assume all the men were locals. There are many alternatives that fit into an investigative pattern, and if one can’t think flexibly, you’ll miss where the actual pattern diverges from the one in your mind.”

  Pol couldn’t help but smile that he had caught onto something important while working on the investigation. At least, he knew that some of what Malden had taught him worked with what Val was teaching. Common sense made up a lot of it, but common sense in a structure…the patterns.

  “Is anything else new?” Pol said.

  “The names given at the gate were all false, but one of the guards thought he remembered the face of one of them on a previous arrest when he worked the city patrols,” Kelso said. “I have him combing though the city logs.”

  “So we wait?” Pol asked Val.

  “No. That coin is too valuable to leave behind. I want to spend a little time across the lane from the alley, seeing if anyone will show up. A guard has been dispatched to stand at the alleyway, so the attacker won’t go close until we have gotten into position.”

  They hurried back to the alley. Val nodded at the uniformed guard, who took one more look at the alley and then left. A cobbler’s shop stood across the street from the alley. Val took Pol inside.

  “Keep your eye on the alleyway,” Val said. “I’ll let the store owner know what we are doing.”

  Pol looked back and saw some coins changing hands. It appeared that one paid for permission to look out from the window. Pol had never been in a shoe shop before and inhaled the strong aroma of leather, glue, and shoe dye. He actually liked the smells and listened to the sounds of the cobbler working behind the counter.

  He never had spent much time among the people of Borstall except within the confines of the castle and when Paki and he roamed the streets, but Pol had never actually gone into shops. The closest he had come to buying anything was at street vendors and market stalls. If Paki hadn’t been so seriously injured, Pol would be quite excited about following Val around and getting exposed to other people’s lives as well as learning to investigate.

  They stood looking out at the alley for the rest of the morning. Pol quickly got bored and wondered what he could do while waiting. Val paid the cobbler to buy some food for them and for the cobbler as well. Pol took over looking while Val went to relieve himself in the back of the shop, and Val did the same for Pol.

  Pol walked to the extension of the shop that ran beside a miserable little garden before backing up against an alley that paralleled the street. After he had used the outside convenience, he peeked through the gate, and then he poked his head, looking up and down the alley. Pol noticed three dodgy-looking men walking his way.

  “Hey, you!” one of them cried out, pointing to Pol.

  The prince ducked back into the gate and ran into the shop. He had lost his breath. This was not the time to begin to wheeze, so Pol took a deep breath. “Attackers coming from the back yard!” He sat down, trying to calm his heart.

  The cobbler scrambled into a nearby closet to hide while Val pulled his sword. “Get ready to use one of your knives.”

  Pol hadn’t brought any weapons with them. “I don’t have any,” he said, nearly wailing.

  “Go to the cobbler’s bench. He uses sharp things. Quickly!”

  After frantically sorting through the cobbler’s tools, he found a wickedly curved short knife, with the sharp surface inside the curve. Pol also picked up a long awl.

  Someone shook the door, and then it flew open. Two men entered.

  “There were three!” Pol said.

  “Defend my back, but if there is a lot of fighting, just get out of the way,” Val said.

  One of the men sneered at Val. “We want the prince. We’ve already taken care of his little friend.” The thug looked at Pol. “Saw you gazing out the front window, all moon-faced.”

  “Who hired you?” Pol asked. If he were to die, he’d like to know who ordered it.

  “And wouldn’t you like to know,” the thug said, looking at Pol, but he lunged at Val. The man groaned as Val dispatched the man with incredible speed.

  The other man pushed his dying colleague into Val, who tumbled to the floor, and went after Pol, who got down on one knee and dropped the awl. He used his left hand to keep the attacker at bay, his right hand gripped the curved knife behind his back. The man leaned over and Pol jumped at the man’s feet and took the curved knife and sliced the tendon behind the man’s foot. He sliced the way Val had just taught him a week ago, and felt the blade go all the way through the man’s stocking and into the tendon.

  The attacker fell over. Pol fought for his breath. He could hear the swishing sounds of his heart in his ears. He took another deep breath, and picking up the awl, he plunged it into the man’s chest. He felt it slide against something hard, (maybe a rib, he thought?) and then it went in all the way.

  His strength escaped, and he fell to the floor. Pol looked on as Val got up and extricated his sword before two more men entered the shop, waving the naked blades of their own poorly-made swords. It was back to two to one, but Pol had lost his ability to help his bodyguard.

  Val flailed as he backed up, seeking more room to maneuver. He took a slash to his sword arm, but one of the men had surprising talent and gave Val a fight. The other man passed by his fellow thug and tried to slip to the side of Val.

  Just as Pol yelled out a warning to Val, the closet door opened and the cobbler hit the sneaking man soundly on the head with a large wooden mallet. That distracted the other attacker enough to give Val the opening he needed, and soon three out of four were messing up the floor of the cobbler’s shop.

  Pol struggled to sit up and leaned against the wall just beneath the multi-paned shop window. His heart still thrummed in his chest, but his strength began to return. He gazed at another man he had killed, and then looked up at the cobbler standing over the bodies.

  “Thank you,” Val said, holding his arm.

  “I have something to bind that with,” the cobbler said. The man eyed Pol. “You are the youngest prince aren’t you? I saw you at the tourney.”

  “I am” Pol said, still sitting beneath the window. “You helped us out.”

  The cobbler nodded his head to Pol and gave him a half-smile. “I thought I was a coward, but I couldn’t just stand in the closet and not help.”

  “I’ll see you get a reward,” Val said.

  “A cleanup crew and removal of the bodies will suffice.” The cobbler pulled his tools from the man Pol had killed. He smiled grimly again. “I always keep my tools sharp,” he said to Pol. “You should too.”

  Pol nodded and found enough energy to stand.

  “I’m sorry, lad,” Val said. “Bodyguards can make mistakes, and I just committed a big one. I let you get too close to the window. People can see in as well as seeing out. I forgot that for a moment. You shouldn’t.”

  That got another nod from Pol. “I guess we both learned something, then.” Val’s admission surprised Pol. He would have never guessed that Val would make a mistake.

  Val rewarded Pol’s comment with a long stare. “I learned a few things, My Prince. Let’s get back to the castle as soon as we tie up the man who still lives.” He gave the cobbler a curt bow. “I’ll make sure to send some men over shortly.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ~

  “THEY WERE THE ONES AS FAR AS I CAN RECALL,” the guard on duty the night of Paki’s abduction said. “The one that’s tied up in the cell, he’s the criminal I remembered.” The guard shook his head. “I don’t know how you found them.” He talked to Kelso, who sat behind his desk. Pol and V
al stood behind the Captain of the Guard.

  “It’s a secret,” Val said, winking at Pol. Both Val and Pol had agreed to leave out the fact that Pol had killed one of them.

  Kelso looked up at the guard. “That’s what I wanted to know. You are dismissed.” The guard left the room to continue his slumber in the dormitory.

  “Time to talk to your prisoner?” Kelso said, standing up from behind his desk. He rummaged around and pulled a ring of large keys from a drawer in his desk. He led them through a door behind his desk into a corridor Pol had never noticed before, and they followed Kelso to another door that took them to the cells.

  A man leaned over the prisoner with the door to the cell wide open. Val loosened the sword in his scabbard. The man turned at the sound.

  “Malden!” Pol said.

  The magician turned and stood up. “I wanted to make sure your prisoner felt up to an interrogation. I’d like to stay if it is permissible.”

  “Certainly,” Kelso said, asserting his authority in the jail. “Is he ready to talk?”

  Malden nodded. “I put him to sleep, but will awaken him after you’ve told me what you know.” He looked at Val.

  The bodyguard told Malden everything, including Pol’s role in fighting off the thugs.

  “You have recovered?” the magician asked.

  “I have. Before my tourney training, I couldn’t have moved fast enough to avoid getting killed, but I only lasted for the one man. I lost my energy soon after that.”

  Malden checked on the prisoner and then turned around again. “The mighty Valiso Gasibli makes a mistake, eh?” The magician smiled, but amiably.

  “I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but I rarely have witnesses,” Val said. He glanced at Pol.

  Pol shrunk back a bit. “I generally make mistakes,” he said. His bodyguard’s comment sent a chill down Pol’s spine. He knew how ruthless Val could be when training Paki and him, so it would be no surprise to know how he would act in secret.

  “Not this time,” Malden said. “You don’t have to be here when this man is questioned.”

  “Yes, I do,” Pol said. “I’m still in training, aren’t I?” He looked at Val, who nodded.

  “Very well.” Malden checked the prisoner’s bond, and his eyes lost a bit of focus. All attention was on the prisoner as the man began to stir.

  “Let me go!” the thug said as he began to struggle in his bonds.

  Val drew his sword and put it to the man’s throat. “The rest of your little band are dead, all three. Why did you attack us?”

  The criminal glared at Pol. “You won’t get me to say anything.” The man turned his head towards the wall.

  Val looked at Malden and nodded. The magician looked at the prisoner as his eyes lost a little focus again. Pol tried to imagine what kind of pattern Malden had tweaked, but he couldn’t. Val obviously knew.

  “Turn around and look at us,” Malden said.

  The prisoner obeyed.

  Pol could see that the prisoner’s anger had lost its edge. Did Malden cast a truth spell or something on the thug?

  “Tell what happened this morning. Why were you walking down the street in front of the cobbler’s shop?”

  “Mo had dropped something in the alley. We had to wait until the guard left the entrance.”

  “A South Salvan Lion? Newly minted?” Val asked.

  The prisoner nodded. “We were in the alley on the other side of the street and then cut over when Solly saw him.” The man pointed his chin at Pol. “We all got mad and split up to take care of the prince.”

  “Who hired you to beat up Paki?”

  “Mo worked for a week or two in the gardens a long time ago. He also did a few odd jobs for the stable master.” He looked from Malden to Val. “He’s the one who paid Mo the Lion to take care of Siggon’s whelp.”

  Malden looked back at Pol. “Paki.”

  “I understood,” Pol said.

  “Did you beat up Siggon, too? Did the stable master help?”

  “Yeah, we took care of Siggon. He just looked on.”

  “Were you supposed to kill them?” Pol said.

  The prisoner managed an angry look at the prince. “No, but…” He shrugged his shoulders even though bound.

  “That’s enough,” Kelso said. The Captain of the Guard sighed and held the door open for the others. Once they were back in the passage to Kelso’s office, he sighed. “Too bad we can’t use that in front of the magistrate.”

  “What?” Pol said.

  Malden put his hand on Pol’s shoulder. “Magically-enhanced interrogation is not permitted as evidence.”

  Pol didn’t understand. “Why not?”

  “Think about it, My Prince,” Val said.

  The command silenced Pol as he began to ponder what just happened. “People don’t trust magicians?”

  “That’s part of it,” Kelso said. “Some magicians can also plant responses.”

  Malden patted Pol on the head. “Those can only come out when you use magic to question.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

  “You do now,” Val said. “However, we don’t need a magistrate to charge our friend in the cell with attacking a member of the royal family, do we?”

  “No. I’m a witness, you’re a witness and the cobbler is too.”

  “Right,” Val said. “Who will we talk to next?”

  Pol smiled because he knew the answer. “The stable master.”

  “Good boy.”

  The stable master hadn’t been very cooperative when Paki and Pol found Siggon beaten and dumped in the hayloft. He tried to remember the entire episode and related it to Kelso and Val as they walked back to Kelso’s office. The Captain had to fill out a form for the prisoner, so Val and Pol left him to it.

  “The stable master sent the stable boys off to view the tourney,” Pol said to Val. “He helped me, but I felt that he grudgingly gave me help. Paki had to go off to his match.”

  “Can you piece that into a bigger pattern?”

  “Perhaps the stable master and Siggon weren’t the best of friends? That might have made it easier for him to order the attack on Paki,” Pol said. “That would fit into one pattern possibility.”

  Val nodded. “Let’s talk to one of the gardeners next. You know them a bit, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Pol said. “Bibby was a good friend of Siggon.”

  They walked through the stable yard, with Pol leading them to the gardening storage area.

  Pol found Bibby weeding with his back to them in a flowerbed. Pol nudged him with his foot so that the young man fell forward onto his face.

  “Paki?” Bibby said. “Can’t be him since he’s in the infirmary. He turned around and quickly scrambled to his feet. “My Prince!” He bowed low. Pol caught the sly smile on Bibby’s face.

  “You can cut out the bowing and scraping. It’s just my bodyguard and me. We’ve a few questions to ask.”

  “How is Paki?”

  Pol grinned. “He’ll survive. He would have kicked you harder than I would.”

  Bibby just nodded in agreement.

  “We have a few questions to ask you—”

  The gardener put up both of his hands in protest. “I had nothing to do with the missing garden cart. You know that.”

  Pol looked at Val, who gave Pol a blank look. It appeared that the prince would be questioning Bibby on his own.

  “I really wanted to talk to you about Siggon.”

  “We still really miss him. He worked harder than any two of us and still had time to work with you and his son.”

  “I miss him, too,” Pol said, realizing again that he really did. He found himself sighing with regret, but turned it into taking a few deep breaths. “Did he have any problems with the stable master?”

  Bibby whistled. “Did he! The stable master always thought that Siggon was after his job. You know that couldn’t be further from the truth. Siggon loved the garden, and especially the little wood where you three tr
ained all the time. The stable master is an old fart—a stinky, smelly fart!”

  “Thank you,” Pol said.

  Pol told him what injuries Paki suffered and that Siggon’s son wouldn’t be back to the gardens for a while. Val signaled to Pol that it was time to go.

  They walked back to the stable, and found the stable master yelling at three of the boys about not properly mucking out the stalls.

  “Get on with you!” the stable master said to the boys. When he noticed Pol and Val walking towards him, he smiled. Pol recognized the smile on the stable master’s face. His teachers had long ago told him to disregard a smile that didn’t extend to the eyes.

  “Can I have a minute of your time?” Pol asked.

  “Of course, My Prince. Shall we go outside where the smell of the horses isn’t so strong?”

  Even Pol could notice that the boys hadn’t been diligent in replacing the hay. They walked towards the tack room.

  “In here?” the stable master said.

  Pol didn’t smile at the man’s discomfort. The stable master’s behavior told Pol all he needed to know about the man’s involvement, but Pol wanted to know who had funded the thugs that the stable master hired.

  Val went first to check out the tack room for safety’s sake. He soon returned and motioned Pol and the stable master into the room and stood by the closed door.

  “So, how can I help you, My Prince? Need to arrange for horses for yourself and your bodyguard?” He eyed Val and Pol could see a faint shudder in the man’s shoulders.

  “Do the names Mo and Solly mean anything to you?”

  The stable master’s eyes widened a bit, but he tried to mask it with a cough and shrugged. ‘There are lots of gardeners who come and go.”

  Val folded his arms. “The Prince didn’t say that either of them were gardeners.”

  The stable master put a finger in his collar and began to sweat. “Well, what else could one of them be?”

  Pol couldn’t believe how the stable master had just admitted that he knew that only one of the thugs was a gardener. “Can we make him talk?” Pol said.

  Val nodded and looked at the stable master with an unfocused eye. “Go ahead.”