by Guy Antibes
“Rancid? Did I hear rancid?” Horker said, speaking over Pol’s shoulder. “No, no, no. This inn serves the best food I have found for sale in the city.” He sat down between the two, staring at each other from across the table. Horker rubbed his palms together. “Roast goose tonight. They do a wonderful job with the gravy, which is served over rice.”
“I don’t like rice,” Shro said. “Our land is too dry to grow rice. It’s like glued chaff in my mouth.”
“With the gravy they make here, you’ll like it,” Horker said. He looked around the inn. “This place won’t fill up for another hour. We have just enough time to talk.”
“What do we have to say?” Shro said.
“I’d like to talk about our next steps,” Horker said. “The three of us should understand what we intend to do.”
“What is that?” Pol asked.
Horker ground his teeth in frustration. “That’s what we are about to talk about. You’re the Seeker. Isn’t that what a Seeker team does? We need to agree on our goals. Agreed?”
Actually, Pol did, and he nodded.
“So?” Horker said, looking from Pol to Shro and back to Pol.
“Don’t look at me,” Shro said. “I wasn’t privy to your meeting with King Astor’s magician. Pol was.”
Pol lifted up his hand. “One, we need to talk to Beastwell and find out his side of the story. His version might differ from Manda’s.”
Horker looked blankly at Pol. He blinked his eyes. “Two?”
“Two, we should find out the official version. Three, we check out both stories to see if they hold water. Four, four…” Pol didn’t have a four. “Four, we collect our evidence and then see what our fifth step is.” The plan sounded pretty lame, even to Pol’s ears.”
With bright eyes, Horker shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. Brilliant. I would have just talked to Beastwell and disregarded everything he had to say. The truth spell would tell me all I needed to know.”
“But we can’t use the truth spell,” Pol said.
“I know. I can’t see an alternative to solving the mystery. Your methodology is superior to mine. I was just going along with what Manda wants.”
Where was the severe training instructor in the monastery? Horker changed before his very eyes.
“Are you feeling all right?” Shro asked the Captain.
Horker’s face fell. “No. I will admit it. I am scared. Give me a sword, and I will cast all emotions aside, but this?” He shook his head. “My father took care of the politics and shipped me to Tesna when I was sixteen. He had a brilliant weapons master that taught me well, as yours did you, Nater. I’ve read all I could about training swordsmen. There wasn’t much call for it until the Abbot and Onkar discovered the great god Tesna’s will.”
“The great god Tesna’s will,” Pol and Shro both said quietly, reacting as they had learned to do.
Horker closed his eyes and bowed his head. “You instinctively know more than I do. That’s why I wanted you by my side. I trust your swordsmanship over any other.”
“Are you better than Spinner?” Pol asked.
“I am. I will beat him six times out of ten.”
To Pol that meant the two monks were roughly equal.
“Here you go, lads,” a serving lady said. She had two plates in her hands and another maid served Pol and then left. “I’ll bring some warmed wine presently.”
“Time to eat,” Horker said, and didn’t say another word until he had cleaned his plate. “Good, huh?”
Shro nodded, her mouth still full.
“It is very good. Even the rice,” Pol said.
Shro nodded again. A few white grains of rice adorned her lips.
“We’ll have another serious talk after Pol has talked to Beastwell.”
“Me?” Pol said.
Horker’s stern face reappeared. “You know the man. You’re the Seeker. You interrogate. That’s an order from your Captain.”
Pol nodded.
Horker got to his feet. “Time to go.”
Pol shoveled down the rest of his food and signaled to Shro that she still had food on her face. That got him a dirty look, but he just smiled. He tucked a few of the new throwing knives in various places as discreetly as he could and followed Horker out the door, leaving Shro rushing to finish.
The early evening had turned into a dark night while they had consumed a good meal. Pol shivered a bit since he hadn’t worn a cloak when they set out in the sunshine. Now the air had chilled a bit. The walk to the castle would warm him up.
Shro caught up to Pol and pinched his side.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“Punishment.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Shro looked at Horker’s form up ahead and whispered. Pol could hear the anger in her words. “You aren’t supposed to tell a lady she has food on her mouth.”
Pol groaned. “Right now, you are not a lady. You are my servant, while I am performing the same service to Captain Horker.”
She pinched him again. “Watch yourself. I’m not the happy companion that you think me to be.”
“Ow! Whoever said you were happy?” Pol said. He twisted up the corner of his mouth away from Shro.
Horker turned. “What are you two chattering about? If you are going to say something in my presence, say it!”
He resumed walking at an increased pace. Shro sped up to walk just behind him. Pol let some space develop while he tried to figure out why Shro was so upset. He shook his head, thinking he might barely understand. Paki wouldn’t have come at him that way.
Pol saw motion from the side. Men with swords began to approach Horker and Shro. They drew their weapons, but Pol was far enough behind that he only saw the assailants’ backs.
Pulling out his own weapon, he began to poke the men in the back with his blade.
“Leave if you know what’s good for you!” Pol said.
One of the men turned around. “There are three of them, not two.” He drew back his sword, but Pol didn’t give him a chance to say another word.
There were seven men, two of which were already down. Seeing one of their own bleeding out on the ground, two of the attackers turned to fight. Pol stepped back to give Horker and Shro more room.
Pol had fought thugs before, and these were no mere thugs. He worried about Shro and Horker. Gone was his reticence to keep his anticipation magic a secret. He now fought to survive. The two men worked as a pair. Pol had to quickly take care of these soldiers. He couldn’t account for their expertise any other way.
One swung high and one swung low, as Pol used his magic to quickly retreat, missing both blades. He quickly reacted by slashing at the one with the high swing with a rip to the belly. His blade slid along a chainmail shirt.
Pol jumped back again. He had never fought armored men in a real fight since he had become healthy. Pol’s anticipation magic told him the men were going to do the same thing again. He slashed at the face of the one who was going low on the right with a blow that went outside to inside. He ducked the high swipe and lifted his sword to thrust into the exposed neck of the man.
Pol lost his breath as his sword went in too easily. His opponent grabbed the sword as the man collapsed on the ground. Both of the men were out of the fight, but one of the other men pulled back his blade to strike Horker, who had been driven to one knee.
Taking one of the throwing knives, he flung it into the thug’s hand. The sword went flying. Pol used his magic the move the sword into the side of the other attacking the Captain. He retrieved his sword just as the last man dropped, holding his upper leg. Shro looked at him as the man went down and gave Pol a grim nod. She certainly showed she could use a sword.
A squad of four guards showed up. “What has happened here?”
“We were set upon by armed men, that’s what,” Shro said, breathing heavily.
“Are any alive?” one of the guards asked.
“Look at that, three have
bit their tongues off. They won’t be lasting long,” another guard said.
Pol looked down at the carnage, glad that it was dark. The Guard would now have the task of ridding Covial of the bodies.
“Nater…” Horker said, collapsing to the ground.
Pol quickly retrieved his throwing knife and his sword. He found the box of knives where he had left them a few paces down the street before he rushed to Horker’s side. Shro had already found two wounds. Pol could see she didn’t use her left arm. It was covered with blood, but Horker needed life-saving attention.
She looked up at him and shook her head. “I can’t do anything other than staunch the flow of blood.”
Pol asked the guards to move Horker to a paved sidewalk and off the bloody cobbles. He took a cloak from one of the dead assailants and rolled it up to support Horker’s head.
“We’ll call for a healer, but it’ll take a while,” a guard said.
This would be a night of revelation for Horker, Pol thought. He rolled up his sleeves and knelt next to Horker. He used the sight of a healer and looked into the wounds. Searl had taught him how to treat such injuries when he had traveled with him during the first days of summer.
A thrust had nipped Horker’s lung. He teleported the welling blood from the organ, and used the other lung tissue as a pattern to close it up. Horker would have to use his own inner defenses to do the rest in there. He did some additional repair work, but told Shro to hold something against the cut while he saw to the rest of Horker’s wounds.
The Captain had suffered another large slice to his thigh. It went in a bit deep, but Pol was able to restore some muscle before evacuating the blood. He saw two large vessels that were cut. Pol joined those up and sealed the wound.
Now the chest wound could be sealed. Pol warmed up the blood at the site of the wound to help kill infection as he finished up. There were a few other cuts that Pol quickly repaired. “I’ve done all I can for him,” Pol said.
He looked up at Shro. “What about you?”
She turned to show a bloody left shoulder. She bit her lip. “It does hurt a bit.”
“It’s going to hurt a bit more,” Pol said, ripping the sides of her shirt.
She had received a nasty slice that cut into the bone. One tendon had been severed, but Pol didn’t see anything else. That didn’t mean there wasn’t more damage, but Pol’s experience wasn’t very extensive.
He moved her to the side of the wall closest to Horker and went to work on her shoulder. Compared to Horker’s chest, this was relatively easy. Joining a tendon wasn’t any less difficult than a blood vessel. Shro winced as Pol went to work, healing the wound as best he could. Pol doubted a non-magical healer could do a better job.
“There. You are not completely healed. I just gave you some first aid, right?” Pol said, minimizing the restructuring he had just done.
She nodded, but said. “You missed some wounds.”
Pol was confused. He didn’t understand all her words.
She showed him the cut in her shirt and pulled out the pile of stockings. “I’ll have to learn to darn.” She pulled one out and put her finger through a cut. “They wouldn’t have stopped a thorough thrust,” she said, “but they gave me a tiny moment to move away.”
“Good for you. Already the socks have proven their worth. You do know you should take it easy for a few days?” Pol said. He noticed his words were slurred.
She nodded again.
“And no back talk.” He shook his finger at her, but he couldn’t remember why he did so.
Horker began to moan. “Wha?” He shook his head. “Am I still alive?”
Pol got up to step over to him and collapsed in a heap.
~
Horker and Shro were sitting on either side of Pol when he shook his head.
“How long was I out?”
Shro groaned. “Not long.” She looked over at the empty street. “The guards wouldn’t have anything to do with us once Horker told him we were staying at the castle. The healer they summoned said you just fainted. From looking at all that blood, right?”
“You could say that,” Pol said rubbing his forehead. It did little to staunch the headache he felt. Searl hadn’t ever had Pol do so much healing, but he had done parts in the past. Working on both Shro and Horker without any practice had worn him down.
“Then let’s help each other to the castle. It isn’t that far away,” Horker said. “Now we have even more to talk about, don’t we?” He looked at Pol, who nodded.
~~~
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
~
THE THREE OF THEM SAT IN A CORNER of the kitchen assembly room, holding mugs of hot cider. They shared a plate of cold meat cut into small pieces and a small basket of rolls.
Horker took a bite. “Roast beef tonight again for the royal family, I guess.” He let Pol get some food in him. “I suppose you need to stoke up on food after your efforts tonight,” he said after chewing.
“They were under a compulsion spell weren’t they?” Pol asked.
“You know about compulsion spells?” Horker said. He looked a bit uncomfortable.
“I do, and mind-control. I am sure you realized those were trained fighters. Soldiers, most likely. The pair that I fought had practiced fighting as a team, and then, those that survived bit off their tongues. Mind-control won’t cause that.”
Shro nodded. “Mind-control for behavior, compulsion for action.”
Horker stared at Shro. “You, too?”
“You know now that we are not what we seem,” Shro said. Pol wished she hadn’t been so blunt about it.
“Deftnis? You healed the way I imagined a Deftnis healer would go about things. We don’t have anyone in Tesna with your skills. I’m pretty much drained of energy, but I’m alive.”
“I didn’t learn how to heal within the walls of Deftnis Monastery, if you must know,” Pol said. “I’m not very practiced. That’s why I fainted. It was a habit that I thought I had cast off a while ago. I do know the theory and used it on you. I hope it worked. Just don’t overdo things.”
“I’ve been healed before.” Horker touched his wound. “I was out for the worst of it.”
Pol nodded. “You were. I imagine if you had been awake, you would have awakened the neighborhood with your yelling.”
Horker’s stern face broke a little. He smiled at Shro. “You’re a very good swordsman, Shro.”
“Just good enough to keep from being killed, and long enough to take care of two, I think.”
“Compulsion. So that means Manda or Onkar. North Salvans don’t have compulsion magic,” Pol said. “Those men were well-trained. Does Onkar have any soldiers like that?”
Horker looked away and shrugged. “Who knows what kind of soldiers Onkar has?”
Pol wasn’t sure who had directed the assassins. “Then we look for motives,” Pol said. “We have to place the event within a pattern. What would prompt Onkar to have us killed? Those were assassins, not men with a message. I heard one say he was surprised that there were three of us.”
“Onkar doesn’t care about Beastwell, and this Manda person does?” Shro said.
Pol nodded. “Unless we are pawns used on two different boards.” He needed to talk to Kelso in the morning, if he could get rid of the headache that rang in his head.
“Do you know how to undo mind-control or compulsion spells?” Pol asked.
“You shouldn’t be asking your superior officer such things,” Horker said. “You need to be turned in.”
“To whom?” Pol said. “You do realize that your life is at stake, not just mine.”
Horker looked like a defeated man. “I give up. I can’t show you here, but I will in your rooms. Eat up. You’re going to need your strength, I imagine, Nater or whoever you are.” He looked at Shro. “And who are you? Certainly not Shro. In league with that Shinkyan merchant, I’ll gather.”
“Today was the first time I ever talked to him,” Shro said. “You should settle down
.”
Horker took the bowl of meat and his mug. “I’m going to my room.”
“Not with my meat, you’re not,” Pol said. “With due respect, sir.” He grabbed his own mug. Shro brought the bread.
Pol’s door was ajar. Someone was inside. He set down his food and drew his sword. Putting his finger to his lips to instruct the others to silence, he slowly pushed the door open.
Menkin, the angry acolyte, looked up from pulling items from Pol’s pack.
Shro raised her hand and the young man froze. “Possible compulsion spell.” They retrieved their food. Horker quickly inspected his own room and found it pulled apart.
Pol thought Manda was responsible, but the Court Magician would have had his own men looking at their things. His fragile construct of a pattern of recent events fell apart with the familiar face.
Horker looked at Pol. “You’re the Seeker. What should we do, kill him?”
“Can he hear us in this state?” Pol said to Shro. She shook her head.
“What can’t you two do?” Horker said, exasperation filling his voice.
Pol lit a magician’s light after pulling the curtains.
“We release the compulsion,” Pol said. “If we don’t, he’ll be biting off his tongue as soon as Menkin realizes he’s been caught.”
“Very well.” Horker noticed a bag of books that Menkin was about to take out of Pol’s pack. He grabbed the texts from the library. “You didn’t have permission to take these!” He said with an indignant whisper.
Pol just looked at him.
“Oh. You really are a Seeker.”
“An apprentice, at best,” Pol said. “I don’t have time to read that.” He pointed to the book in Horker’s hand.
“Very well, listen carefully. Mind-control influences thinking. It’s most effective if applied a number of times. It can be eliminated by a command for order to return to the brain. One visualizes a brain without a net. That’s how I learned.”
“That seems easy enough.”
“It’s hard enough to do. You have to re-order slowly, with power. Not all magicians can do that. I barely can. Compulsion is a much deeper step. With mind-control, the subject retains normal behavior except that which has been suggested by the one who performs the re-order. Compulsion distorts the personality. If you know a person under compulsion, they will not know you or act the same.”
