by Guy Antibes
He began his tour with an inspection of what books Tesna had to offer. As he passed the bookshelves and scroll cubbies, he realized that he might be able to learn about the coercion spells that Coram used to twist Sakwill’s mind at Deftnis.
It was obvious that the man in white, Abbot Festor, used some kind of spell in the midnight Tesnan sermons that were held every few days. Could that be what Coram used? Pol felt a bit lost, since he had never learned any spells that controlled the mind, even truth spells he had seen administered. He had observed truth spells before and wondered if the Abbot tweaked something similar.
He had no idea what the Tesnans would call such magic, but he perused the books. He stopped at a title, Order of the Mind. There were five copies. Pol pulled the oldest-looking one from the shelf and noticed the Tesnan symbol on the cover. He began to flip through the pages. This was it. They would never let an acolyte take this book from the library, so he sat at one of the small tables littered between the shelves and began to read.
Tesnans freely used the term order, but it didn’t serve to hide the theory of patterns that permeated through the text. Mind-control. Pol could see that the Tesnans perceived control as an ordered net over the mind. It was just a pattern that overruled some aspects of thought.
Truth spells were used at a point in time, and this spell might be a more permanent technique of controlling a mind. Even if the Deftnis monks knew something about Coram’s spells that controlled Sakwill, but Val had never spoken of mind-control. Pol wondered if the Deftnis monks might have an understanding of the pattern and the tweak in the book. He wouldn’t be able to find out, so he would have to continue to learn.
He could read more about the theory, but he really wanted to find a shield technique that might be less cumbersome than the one Val had taught him for truth spells. Pol read through the part that talked about the ‘re-ordering’ that made an impermeable barrier in the mind. He used it on himself, but nothing happened that Pol could detect.
Not wanting to be caught, he didn’t go any further and replaced the book. He grabbed one about the history of the monastery and took it to the front desk.
“Can I remove this from the library? I’d like to read more of it,” Pol said.
“An acolyte?” The monk turned up one side of this mouth in a smirk. “Hardly. You read what you want here inside this building and be happy you’re able to do that.”
Pol made himself look offended, but then he bowed to the monk and replaced the book. The monk glared as he left. The monks didn’t welcome him into the library, but he would become a fixture, if he could. With such antipathy towards individual learning, he was surprised there were any acolytes in the library.
He had kitchen duty in the afternoon and while he washed dishes, his mind evaluated the patterns involved in mind-control. Pol loathed trying to use a mind-control tweak on another person, but eventually he would have to. He practiced structuring the shield and removing it until protecting himself was like second nature. He didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t place a shield on another person.
~
While he scrubbed the floors in the classroom building, he overheard two monks at a window talking about the beginning of compulsion training. Was compulsion different from mind-control?
“We’ll be late for class,” one of them said.
Pol put his washing tools in the bucket and followed them to their class. He magically enhanced his hearing as he dropped to his knees and began washing the floor. Another few monks passed by Pol in the corridor and dashed into the room.
With the corridor empty, Pol listened in, curious about compulsion. He found the limit to his hearing range and got down on his knees to scrub the floor.
“Now that we’ve covered mind-control, we move to the related topic of compulsion,” a voice said. “In mind-control, we overlay the mind. The subject’s thinking is influenced by suggesting a change in their attitudes about certain notions. Compulsion goes deeper. The re-ordering is more extensive and changes the physical behavior of the subject. If you command a mind-controlled person, they will think about what you want them to do. Mind-control can be resisted quite easily with a shield.
“With compulsion, the subject has no choice but to obey. Shielding for compulsion is much more complex. Although compulsion can be resisted, it takes a much stronger spell to compel a fellow magician. There is danger using compulsion, since re-ordering isn’t a surface thing. The compulsion plunges into the mind of the subject and grabs it.”
Undoing a compulsion is difficult for us to perform at Tesna. It requires the expertise of a high-level healer, and there are only two healers at Tesna with the ability to remove compulsion. Grand Masters or above generally have this ability. The rest of you are given this knowledge, so you can understand what has been done to subjects that you might be dealing with in the future.”
Let me remind you. You are forbidden to attempt compulsion on your fellow monks and acolytes. A thorough compulsion spell takes away the identity of the subject; however, in the near future you will be able to practice in the field.”
The lecture droned on, but once the re-ordering was described, Pol knew he could perform compulsion on another person. He thought mind-control was unethical, but compulsion alarmed him. The tweak turned a person into a slave. The statement of practicing in the field scared him. Something truly was stirring within the monastery. Now he had another book to look for in the library.
The monk stopped his lecture, and Pol began to scrub the floor even harder. Monks began to leave the classroom.
“What are you doing here?” a green-robed monk asked. Pol recognized his voice as the lecturer.
“I’m scrubbing classroom floors today.”
“Did you listen to what I had to say?”
Pol shook his head.
The monk forced a spell on Pol, putting pressure on his forehead before he had a chance to put up a shield.
“Did you listen to what I had to say?”
Pol looked uncomprehendingly at the monk. After the pressure released, Pol found his tongue. “Not exactly. I just had a blinding headache,” Pol said putting a hand to his forehead. “What did you have to say? I heard voices in the other room, but I couldn’t make out more than a few words, I’ll admit to that.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you a resister?” the monk said.
“What is that? Am I supposed to be resisting something?” Pol tried to give the monk a confused look.
“Bah!” The monk walked past Pol, who returned to his scrubbing. As the monk turned the corner, he gave Pol a glare.
Pol must be a resister. He could feel the application of the spell, but it didn’t take. He wondered if he even needed a shield in the midnight meetings. Perhaps the monk had administered a truth spell. Could Pol be immune to those as well?
He fingered the amulet his mother had given him back at Borstall Castle, before Bythia, his dead sister-in-law, murdered her. What made him different?
Pol knew he had some measure of alien blood coursing through his veins. The Deftnis monk, Searl, had identified malformed organs. So perhaps he had an innate resistance to truth spells, mind-control, and compulsion. Pol could certainly tell when the re-ordering was attempted.
He rubbed his forehead as he thought about it. At least the monk let him know that there were individuals who could avoid the spells. He wondered if Coram had attempted any spells on him during Pol’s stay at Deftnis. If he had, maybe Pol would be dead right now and Demeron would be in the hands of the South Salvans as a result of Coram’s attempt to steal Pol’s horse.
~~~
CHAPTER EIGHT
~
POL ROSE EARLY AND FOUND THAT HE’D START WORK in the stables, but had time off in the afternoon, which he could use in the library. He dragged himself to the stables after breakfast and began to muck out the stalls.
“You’re the new guy, huh?” an acolyte said. He seemed to enjoy the work as much as Pol did.
; “I am. How long have you been at Tesna?” Pol said.
The acolyte stood up and stretched his back. He was taller than Pol. Other than some of the first year acolytes, everyone was taller at Tesna. “A bit over a year. No one’s noticed yet. If I’m still doing this by Winter’s Day, I’ll be writing my father.”
“Does he have any influence over the monastery?”
The boy shrugged. “He’s a Count in Galistya. He paid a pretty penny to get me here, so I’m sure Abbott Festor will listen.”
“Don’t like the work?” Pol asked.
The boy’s eyes blinked. “I love working here. Tesna is here to bring the world out of its current awful state.” His eyes blinked again. Pol wondered what the obvious mind-control would do when the acolyte would actually sit down to write his father. “I’d like to learn magic so I can really help.”
“Help doing what? I still don’t know how this place runs,” Pol said.
“You will learn soon enough. Great things are happening, and we’ll all be leaving the monastery soon.”
Soon. Everyone talked about something happening soon, thought Pol. “Soon enough that you won’t be learning any magic to help?”
The acolyte shook his head. “I’ve been told we will learn what we need to know along the way.”
“Where are we going?”
After presenting Pol with a stare, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, just that it will be soon.”
No one had ever said anything about the Abbot’s re-ordering in the midnight meetings. Perhaps he would have to ‘serve’ for a bit longer before he would know. Pol needed to exercise patience. He wondered how much patience Val had to endure in his assignments. The Seeker didn’t strike Pol as the patient type.
The two of them went back to work. The other acolyte never said another thing, which gave Pol a lot of time to place their conversation into a pattern.
Towards the end of the shift, Pol was putting the tools away when the monk in the faded orange robe who had shown him around the barracks walked up.
“Nater, isn’t it? Fancy a ride into town?” the monk asked.
“I’m allowed to leave?” Pol said. “I thought we had to stay in the monastery.”
“You do, except if I take you with me down to Gobbleton.”
“Gobbleton?” Pol feigned ignorance.
The monk chuckled. His demeanor had changed from when Pol first arrived. “That’s the name of the town at the bottom of the hill. They raise turkeys. Gobble, gobble, gobble.”
“Oh, I went through there on my first day. I’d be happy to go with you,” Pol said. He quickly finished his work. The monk, who introduced himself as Willam, stood while Pol hitched a horse to the cart that Willam pointed out.
“Are you leading this fine young acolyte astray, Willam?” the guard at the monastery gate said.
“More like the opposite, to my way of thinking,” Willam said.
That made the guard laugh, and he waved them through. Willam glanced behind and nodded his head.
“I can always get through if I joke with the guards,” Willam said.
“You’re not on official monastery business?” Pol looked behind him and then on the twisting road down from the monastery.
“Not at all, lad. I hope you don’t mind my deception. Don’t think you can tattle on me. I can twist your words around my little finger.”
Did that mean mind-control? Pol wondered. “So what happens when we return without any supplies?”
Willam grinned. Pol felt pressure in his mind. Willam was using the spell. “Not something you have to worry about. Just stay out of my way and be back at the wagon in three hours. If you want to stretch out in the back and sleep the afternoon away, be my guest. If anyone asks, we just went to pick up supplies and came directly back to Tesna.”
“How did you know I had the afternoon off?”
“The lad is just full of questions,” Willam said. “Who do you think writes up the assignments? If you wouldn’t go with me, I had two more like you lined up to help get me out the gate. At Tesna, you’ve only got to be a step or two ahead of the big boys.” He chuckled to himself. The man didn’t share any kind of joke with Pol. “You won’t remember any of this after we’re back at the monastery, anyway.”
Pol realized he’d just been given an opportunity to do some Seeking. He could roam around Gobbleton and learn about the monastery from a different point of view. Pol had expected Willam to gloat all the way down to Gobbleton, but all he did was hum to himself. Willam waved to the guards at the bottom of the road. He leaned over to Pol.
“You’ll be in big trouble if you’re not at the cart when I’m done with my business. Got it? If someone comes by with boxes to load, you help them, hear?”
Pol nodded. “I’ll be back, but I’m going to look around. I never did have the chance to see what a South Salvan town looks like. On the way to Tesna, I was too nervous to notice.” That wasn’t the case, but Willam wouldn’t know.
The monk looked at Pol a little funny. Perhaps the mind-controlled acted differently that he had.
Willam held up three fingers. “Three hours. You will be here before three hours are over.”
Pol nodded at the command. Perhaps that would be enough time to get some useful information. They rode into town. Willam took a right hand turn into an inn’s stableyard.
A stableboy came up. “We’ll watch it as usual, Monk Willam.”
The monk placed some coins in the boy’s hand and jumped off the cart. “Three hours.” He disappeared into the inn, leaving Pol still sitting on the cart’s seat.
The boy climbed up. “I’ll be moving the cart around the building,” he said while he grabbed the reins and moved the cart.
“Does Willam come often?”
The boy squinted with thought. “Maybe two times a month, sometimes three. He’s got two lady friends that keep him busy.” That made the boy giggle.
Tesna was no different than Deftnis in that respect. He wondered if other Tesnan monks came to the town to drink and carouse.
“I’ll be back,” Pol said. He jumped off the cart and headed back out the gate into the street. Pol shrugged off his robe since he always wore clothes underneath his scratchy robe. He looked down at the rope sandals on his feet and wondered if that would mark him as an acolyte. But with a shaven head, everyone would know he came from the monastery, anyway. He put the robe over his arm and walked into town.
Pol always kept a gold, a silver, and a copper Boxall coin in his pocket, so he went to a general store to buy a treat for himself. He entered the store and walked around, looking at what was offered.
“A monk?” The storeowner looked perplexed.
“An acolyte. I’ve been at Tesna for a few weeks. One of the monks came to pick up supplies, and he wanted someone to ride with him.” Pol shrugged and continued to look around.
“I don’t like your kind in my store.” The owner came around from the counter and stopped close to Pol.
“Why not?”
“You don’t know now, but you’ll become just like the rest of them.”
Pol looked at a display of knives across from another counter. “How is that? I’ve only just started.”
“The monks will teach you how to force our women.”
“You’re not serious,” Pol said. “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“There are enough of you that do, so you’ll join with them soon enough.”
“Can’t your local guard do anything?”
The owner shook his head. “I think you don’t really know, do you?”
“I don’t.”
“The monks do something to their victim’s mind. The women said they… I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“No, go ahead. I need to know.”
“You seem like you might be a good boy, after all. The women said they don’t remember, but they are sure something happened. It’s not right for a monk to mess with the minds of defenseless wo
men.”
So Pol now knew the mind-control spells also were used to make subjects forget. Deftnis had reasonable standards, but obviously Tesna didn’t. “I’m sorry,” Pol said. “I really don’t know about any of this. Acolytes my age aren’t taught much magic. It’s a disgrace for magicians to take advantage.”
The owner snorted, “It is indeed. Maybe you aren’t tainted yet.” His anger seemed to soften. “So what do you want?”
Pol wanted to verify if the Abbot had meant a spiritual war or an actual one where Tesna would dominate. He heard such things often enough at the midnight meetings. “I heard something about an army close by? I’m not in a position to get much news.”
“An army?” The owner scratched his head. “Funny that you should mention that. There are rumors in town about men and boys leaving their farms. With the harvest coming in I don’t think they would leave their families voluntarily, but that might be the case.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What exactly have you heard?”
“I overheard a couple of monks talking about leaving the monastery soon. I can’t think of another reason why they would say such a thing unless the monks went on a campaign of some kind.”
The owner laughed. “Maybe you heard wrong, but maybe not. With what you might have gotten from a conversation and the rumors I’ve heard, there might be something to it. I suggest you keep such notions to yourself. You wouldn’t want to be looked at as a traitor up there. Not even King Astor can compel a Tesnan monk to so much as blow his nose. Not in the monastery, anyway.”
“I guess we shouldn’t even be talking,” Pol said.
The man smiled. “Maybe not. What were you looking for?”
“Something sweet. The monk’s don’t eat any kind of sweet things.” Pol looked over at the other counter and saw a row of jars and a glass-windowed cupboard with pastries.
“Like those over there?”
