“What do you know about Prince Samuel?” Garth asked Wylan.
“I know that he resides in the monastery of a strange religious cult. The cult believes that the gods have forsaken Spino for some reason, and that Queen Samir has finally decided to write Samuel out of the chain of succession, leaving his younger sister as the heir.”
“You are well informed,” stated Sidney as he set three cups of tea on the table and sat down.
Wylan cocked his head as if he was listening to something. His right hand probed the table in front of him and eventually wrapped around the cup of tea that Sidney had placed on the table for him. Wylan smiled broadly and brought the cup to his lips.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” frowned Sidney, “how is a blind man going to help rescue Prince Samuel?”
“Let me counter that with a question of my own,” Wylan smiled thinly. “Prince Samuel is not exactly held captive. He is at the monastery of his own free will, although he was probably duped into joining the order. How can anyone get him to come to Herinak?”
“I haven’t really thought much about it,” admitted the merchant. “I guess I assumed that someone would just go into the monastery and kidnap him.”
“You would end up with a rather reluctant guest if that was done,” replied Wylan. “I also think the cult leaders would resist, so you would end up killing a few of them, and that would spoil any relationship you might have with the prince.”
Sidney was flustered by the blind man’s reply, but Garth was grinning broadly.
“Wylan has some experience with weird religious cults,” Garth said to Sidney, “and he has obviously thought a bit about this situation before coming here. How did you talk King Arik into letting you leave Alcea, Wylan?”
“I came up with a solution to the problem,” grinned Wylan. “Or at least I came up with a feasible solution. I call it blind man’s bluff. A lot will depend upon the true nature of Prince Samuel, but I will spoil nothing with my attempt. If I fail, you can still proceed with whatever backup plan you might have.”
“Then I wish you well,” Garth replied. “I have other eggs to fry, and little time to do it. Tell me what you will need to make this work and I will see that you get it.”
“That’s it?” balked Sidney. “You are just going to wish him well and go on your merry way? Garth, this is not like you. You can’t send a blind man into Brother Nicholas’ den and just forget about him. That cult is dangerous.”
“Brother Nicholas?” asked Wylan. “You know the leaders of this cult?”
“Not well,” Sidney replied. “I ran into Brother Nicholas many years ago. The man used to be a brutal, petty thief. Then he discovered that the path to riches lay in religion. He tried to pass himself off as a priest of many of the temples before founding his own cult. He struck gold when he convinced Prince Samuel to join his circus. Queen Samir tried to get her son back by force, but the soldiers could never locate them. Nicholas even collected a ransom from the queen and then still refused to return the prince. When Queen Samir tired of the game and changed the order of succession, Brother Nicholas blackmailed the queen. He collected yet more money with a threat of releasing the prince and backing his claim to the throne.”
“And the queen paid this?” asked Wylan.
“Queen Samir has never been known for her intelligence,” sighed Sidney. “She is a cunning, scheming vixen with a bent for crushing her foes, but Brother Nicholas is fairly quick witted. Besides, she merely raises taxes whenever she needs more money. Gold flows through her fingers quickly.”
“When did you meet Brother Nicholas?” asked Garth.
“It was right after Prince Samuel joined the cult. Queen Samir asked if I would try to purchase her son back from Brother Nicholas. I tried every avenue I could think of, but Brother Nicholas fully understood the true value of his commodity. Shortly after that, he also managed to get the sons of several nobles to join his cult. He sold each of them back for hefty fees. I will give the scourge credit where it is due. He learned from my offers that the sons of the wealthy were worth their weight in gold.”
“Do you know where the monastery is?” asked Wylan.
“Everyone knows where it is,” answered Sidney. “It is no secret. It is in the Bloodwood about a day’s ride west of Valdo.”
“Why is the queen no longer interested in attacking it?” asked Garth. “Surely, the armies of the Federation could easily crush the cult.”
“The last I heard,” answered Sidney, “Brother Nicholas promised that there would be no more demands for gold. His last deal was one of peace. As long as the queen ignored him and his cult, she would suffer no ill from his presence, but if he was attacked, he would kill Samuel and swear that he did so on her orders.”
“He would hang for that,” frowned Garth. “What kind of threat is that?”
“He would hang,” agreed Sidney, “but the people of Spino would not stand for a mother murdering her own son. Even the army would turn against her.”
“And as she has already changed the order of succession,” nodded Wylan, “everyone would be quick to believe the lies told by Brother Nicholas.”
“Exactly,” sighed Sidney. “Brother Nicholas has outplayed the queen every step of the way. He is a smart and ruthless opponent. That is why I cannot believe that you are sending a blind man up against him. It is shear folly.”
“Wylan is not just a blind man,” Garth replied seriously. “He is a Knight of Alcea. Do not make the same mistake that others have made. Do not underestimate him.”
“Your insight into Brother Nicholas is most appreciated,” Wylan said to the merchant. “It will give me something to think about on my way to the monastery. It also highlights another area of concern. If Queen Samir has written Prince Samuel out of the line of succession, how can we put him back in? Is he even worth the effort if he will never be the heir?”
“He is the only card we have to play in Spino,” answered Garth. “If Queen Samir is so pliable, perhaps we also need a plan to get Prince Samuel back into the line of succession.”
“Sheri might be able to help with that,” suggested Wylan. “Do you remember when Sarac flooded Alcea with ogre gold?”
“I remember it well enough.” Garth nodded. “That was before your time. Why do you mention it?”
“Jenneva discovered a horde of it recently,” smiled Wylan. “Evidently Sarac had stockpiled it just beyond the Dusty Trail Inn. King Arik wanted it left in place as he does not want Alcean markets flooded with it, but I think it could be of great use here in Zara.”
“Ogre gold?” questioned the merchant. “What are you talking about?”
“An evil magician tried to take over all of Alcea,” explained Garth. “One of his tools was a massive supply of gold from another Universe, except it wasn’t real gold. It looked the same and weighed close enough to fool everyone until someone accidentally discovered that it dissolved in a certain acid.”
“Sheri could pretend to be a wealthy woman with that gold,” suggested Wylan. “It sounds like Queen Samir is the type to immediately adopt her as a close friend.”
“That is true,” agreed Sidney. “A large amount of gold would seal a friendship with the queen, for whatever that is worth. She really does not know the meaning of friendship, so the relationship would only last as long as the gold.”
“The ogre gold would wreak havoc on the economy of Zara,” frowned Garth.
“The Zaran economy is already in shambles,” retorted Sidney as he opened his pouch and placed a large gold coin on the table, “and it will get worse when the war starts. If King Arik has people with skills enough to duplicate that coin, I think your plan might work.”
Garth sighed with indecision as he stared at Sidney’s one-thousand-gold piece. The Alceans had been funding their covert activities with gems, but those gems could be better used to feed the people of Alcea. Slowly, he nodded decisively.
“The ogre gold will be used by Lord Zachary, but Sheri would do
well posing as his wife. Do you have any problems with that?”
“None,” answered Wylan, “but why limit its use?”
“I am willing to use fake gold to achieve our objectives, but I don’t want to flood the entire economy with it. When the war is over, it will be revealed that some gold is fake. The holders of the fake gold will lose its value, and I hope that it is limited to the wealthy who have gotten rich off the backs of the poor. If we limit the ogre gold to high-value coins such as this one, there will be little chance of the common man getting hurt. If any of us need gold for any reason, we can see Zack about it. He will be in charge of our treasury.”
“That sounds workable to me,” agreed Wylan. “Shall I take the coin back to Tagaret?”
“And get Sheri.” Garth nodded. “I will arrange for unicorns and fairies for you while you are gone.”
“I will draw up a map of Bloodwood,” offered Sidney. “You will have no trouble finding the monastery.”
Chapter 29
Kioji
Sigfrid frowned with concern as he stared at Prince Harold of Ertak. The young man’s body showed signs of improvement, the angry red blotches on his skin slowly fading away, but the prince’s veins were still clearly visible, and they throbbed irregularly.
“Zalaharic, stop!” the Royal Sorcerer of Korocca said with alarm in his voice. “Something is not right.”
The elven mage from Elderal removed his hands from the prince’s body and stepped back a pace. A shiver of uneasiness shot through Sigfrid as he looked at the elf’s face. Zalaharic’s eyes were rolled up in his head leaving solid white orbs in their place. The elf closed his eyes and sighed with exhaustion.
“What is the matter?” Zalaharic asked wearily.
“His heart is not beating regularly,” answered Sigfrid. “I will not pretend to understand what you are doing, but your magic is stressing the patient even more than yourself. I beg you to stop and rest for a bit.”
Zalaharic nodded with understanding. He moved his hand towards the patient, his long slender fingers gently feeling the veins on the prince’s temple. Sigfrid was afraid that the elven mage was resuming the treatment, but he noticed that Zalaharic’s eyes had returned to normal. He looked on with curiosity.
“What exactly were you doing to him?”
“It is hard for me to explain,” Zalaharic answered softly. “Like much of what I do, it is driven by feelings rather than spells learned from a book. There is a wasting disease within the prince’s body. I went inside to battle it.”
“You went inside?” echoed Sigfrid. “How do you mean?”
Zalaharic moved away from the patient and slumped into a chair. “Have you never tried to will yourself to another place?”
Sigfrid’s brow creased with a lack of understanding. “Do you mean like teleportation? I thought such things were the tales of shysters and hustlers.”
“Such deceptive people do use tales of teleportation to steal gold from their victims, but that does not mean that such magics do not exist. In any event, that is not what I was talking about. Each person has an aura about himself, meaning his existence extends beyond his physical body. In most cases, the aura is insignificant. It might allow a person to feel the presence of something close, or realize the proximity of the people around him.”
“I think I know what you are referring to,” Sigfrid replied, suddenly becoming very interested in where the conversation was leading.
“The study of magic usually heightens the senses in this aura, but most magicians tend to ignore it or they attribute it to an increased feeling of awareness and leave it at that. The truth is, it is a valid extension of yourself, and it can be used in many ways. What I have done is to allow my aura to pierce the prince’s. In this way I can get inside the prince and examine what is ailing him.”
“And what have you found?”
“There is a poison within his body,” answered the elf.
“He has been poisoned?”
“No.” Zalaharic shook his head. “I am not suggesting that someone is trying to kill him. I think the disease that is attacking his body is creating poisons to spread itself. I can use my aura to battle it, as you can tell by the improving complexion of the prince’s skin, but the disease is widespread, and it is resistant to leaving its host.”
“His blood is tainted then?”
“Without a doubt.” The elf sighed and moved away from the prince’s body. “Some of the village healers in Alcea use bloodletting to purge the blood of poisons. It is not a magical process, but I have seen more than one of them have success.”
“I have seen the same here in Korocca,” conceded Sigfrid, “but the prince is too weak for such a process. Already his heart is racing to move blood through his body, and you have just pointed out the reason why. If his blood is tainted, it would become less efficient in purging the poisons from the rest of his body. Bloodletting is too dangerous a risk.”
Zalaharic nodded silently. He slumped into a chair and stared at the bed with unfocused eyes. After a few moments of silence, he picked up a writing tablet from the tablet and started drawing. Sigfrid walked over to the elf and stared at the paper. He gazed at the drawing of leaves and frowned in confusion. Suddenly, Zalaharic became alert and sat upright with a smile on his lips.
“Kioji! Have someone bring up some leeches and a fair supply of kioji.”
“Is that the plant you just drew?” asked Sigfrid. “I have never heard of it.”
“It is.” Zalaharic nodded. “When mixed into a broth the herb will provide an instant energy boost, and it also restores depleted blood. If we administer it to the prince while bloodletting, I think we may be able to purge his system without weakening him.”
“Are you sure?” asked Sigfrid. “We can’t afford to let him die.”
“I will pierce his aura while we are doing this,” promised the elf. “Together we will fight this disease.”
Sigfrid nodded and took the paper from the elf’s hands. He hurried out of the room and ran to the closest stairwell. There was a soldier posted to each stairwell with instructions to face away from the corridor and admit no one other than those on the king’s list. Sigfrid came up behind the sentry and handed the paper to him.
“That is a drawing of a kioji plant. I want as much of it as we can find, and I want a healthy supply of leeches sent up. See to it quickly.”
The Royal Sorcerer turned and headed back towards the suite holding Prince Harold. The soldier stared at the drawing and shrugged. He had no idea where to start looking for such a plant, so he hurried down the stairs and knocked on the door of Baron Stikman. The baron called for him to enter, and the sentry carried the paper to the baron’s desk. The baron put down the book he had been reading and picked up the paper.
“The Royal Sorcerer requests as much of that plant as we can find and a lot of leeches as well. What should I do?”
“What plant is this?” asked the baron as he stared at the drawing.
“He called it kioji. I have never heard of it.”
Baron Stikman’s eyebrows rose as his eyes flicked from the paper to the book he had been reading. He put the paper down and picked up the book. Flipping back pages, he found the section he had read earlier. He smiled as he nodded.
“What are you reading, Baron?” asked the soldier.
“A story,” the baron murmured distractedly. “This section tells the tale of a battle where a woman’s arm was severed from her body by a goblin’s axe. A young mage reattached the arm, but she was then too exhausted to move. A warrior escorting the women made a broth with an herb called kioji. Supposedly it provided a rush of energy and promoted restoration of depleted blood. I wonder if Sigfrid has had an accident.”
“He appeared healthy to me,” stated the soldier. “Should I inquire?”
“No,” the baron said quickly as he snapped out of his distraction. “Return to your post. I will handle this.”
The soldier nodded and withdrew from the office. Ba
ron Stikman closed the Chronicles of the Sword of Heavens, placed it on his desk, and picked up the drawing as he rose from his chair. As he headed down the stairs, he thought about the book he had been reading. The story had been amazing so far, and that had made him a bit suspicious about the truth of it, but the request for kioji was making him reevaluate that skepticism. He knew that an elven healer from Alcea was helping Sigfrid with Prince Harold, and it was undoubtedly the elf who had requested the herb, but that very request for a plant unknown to him lent credence to the story. When he had read the passage about Tanya reattaching Jenneva’s arm, he thought it was obviously a fairy tale, and yet that same herb was now being requested for a prince who was close to dying. Obviously, someone thought the herb held great promise for its medicinal powers.
When the baron reached the main level of the castle, he halted, unsure of whom to ask for help. His first choice would have been Sigfrid, but it was the Royal Sorcerer who was requesting the plant. With nowhere else to turn, the baron continued downward to the kitchens. When he reached the kitchens, he called for everyone’s attention. He held up the paper and explained that he needed a large supply of the plant. He also requested the leeches as he pinned the drawing to a cabinet. With that out of the way, the baron headed upstairs to see what the healers were up to.
The head of the kitchen staff started asking everyone what they knew about the plant and where to find it, but no one was familiar with it. Slowly, the kitchen staff drifted back to their duties. The head of the staff ordered a runner to find the leeches and send them to Baron Stikman. A short while later, a young blond woman strode cheerily into the kitchens. Many of the staff welcomed her with friendly smiles, and one of them pulled a stool over to a small counter.
“Missed the midday meal again, Miss?” the old maid asked.
“I am afraid that I have,” smiled the young woman. “I guess I get too deep into my books at times and forget to eat.”
Heirs of the Enemy Page 37
