The Child Prince (The Artifactor)

by Honor Raconteur

  A viable enough plan. “Morgan, why am I really out here with you? You can certainly handle this on your own.”

  “Hmmm.” The man put a hand to his chin thoughtfully as he looked down at Bellomi. “Well, you need more practice with people, I think. Although you’ve done quite well after all our other lessons.”

  He at least knew what to say to approach people. Although Morgan had a point, he still needed practice, as he did get tongue-tied now and again. “This time, then, can you teach me how to get information from people? Without them realizing it, that is.”

  “Hooo?” Morgan didn’t slacken his pace but he did cast give him a quick glance from the corner of his eye. “A useful skill for you to have, true. But why do you ask?”

  “You and Sevana have both told me that the Council has done significant damage to Windamere.” He paused so that he could phrase it right, not wanting to be misunderstood. “I believe you. But I want specifics. I want to know exactly what has been done to my people.”

  “So that you can correct it later.” Morgan nodded approvingly. “Well enough. Alright then, here’s the basics. If you want to know information of how things work, who do you ask?”

  He hadn’t the foggiest idea. “The officials?”

  Morgan made a booing sound. “Wrong. The people that carry out the orders. The working class. The staff. The people that the laws and systems directly affect. They can tell you the nuts and bolts of a matter.”

  That…made all sorts of sense. “So how do you ask?”

  “You don’t.” Morgan grinned even as he stepped to the side, letting a wagon rumble past. “That’s the beauty of it.”

  Bellomi considered this for a full second before demanding in exasperation, “Are you trying to be cryptic?”

  “Not at all.” They left the street and went up two steps onto a wide wooden porch that had a sign proudly painted in bold colors claiming it to be a general store. Morgan paused near the door to explain, “People love to talk and complain about things that go wrong. All you need to do is offer them a listening and sympathetic ear. They’ll talk at you for hours, telling you all sorts of things, most of which you don’t want to know. But,” Morgan lifted a demonstrative finger, “they’ll also tell you things that they shouldn’t. It’s funny how many secrets have been spilled while someone’s complaining. The trick of it is, offer to listen, focus on them, and sort through the information that they tell you.”

  “Sounds tedious,” Bellomi said slowly.

  “Oh, and it can be. But it’s also very, very useful.” Morgan canted his head to indicate the door. “Watch and learn, my friend.”

  So saying, he stepped inside the store, where a small bell chimed at the top, signaling their entry. As he came in, he hailed the man that stood behind a long counter on the right. “Master Kybartas!”

  “Master Morgan,” the middle-aged man responded with an honest smile. Patting his slightly rounded torso, he gestured with the other hand for them to come in. “I was just telling Shelley this morning that we’re low on Sevana’s products and that we needed to send word to you.”

  “Then my timing is good,” Morgan responded as he set the bag on top of the counter.

  Bellomi followed in his wake, although he couldn’t help but take a quick look around him. The store, at first glance, seemed cluttered. Shelves went the length of the building, taking up most of the floor space, with even more shelves on the walls straight up to the ceiling. Everything imaginable seemed to be sold here, from canned goods to magical potions.

  “And who might this young lad be?” Kybartas asked in a kindly tone.

  He fought to keep his smile from being wooden. After only thirty-eight days on the grow-for-true-love bed, he hadn’t aged much, so he looked to be in his pre-teens. The reminder that he looked like a child grated. “The name’s Bel, sir. I’m Artifactor Warran’s apprentice.”

  “Oh, you don’t say!” Kybartas stroked the greying mustache with two fingers, looking at him with new interest. “The wife and I were wondering if she’d take one on. Glad to see she did.”

  Bellomi felt slightly guilty for the lie at that point.

  “You teaching him the business end of things, Master Morgan?” Kybartas asked in a tone that clearly didn’t need answering. “Glad to see that, too. Your partner’s a fine Artifactor but she doesn’t have the head for business.”

  “A fact she realizes,” Morgan responded with a shrug. “Fortunately for all. But what are you short on?”

  “Medical potions, mostly.” Kybartas ticked things off on his fingers. “Mending charms, shield charms, oh and those cooling charms nearly flew off the shelves. They’re real popular.”

  Bellomi caught the glance that Morgan sent his direction, silently urging him to join in on the conversation. Wetting his lips, he ventured, “What sells well here, sir?”

  “Oh, anything your master makes sells,” Kybartas assured him, mustache rising under the force of his smile. “But these days it’s the products that preserve things or helps protect people from harm that sells best.”

  The products that preserved things made sense. If Windamere’s changes had a negative effect on society like he’d been told, then people would necessarily focus on preserving what they had instead of buying new. That was simple economics. But the shielding and protection charms… “Why the shield charms, sir?”

  “Well, it’s a sad thing, young master,” Kybartas explained on a heavy sigh. “But the fact is, that when a depression comes on society like ours is doing now, then crime always goes up. Even in the best of cities, it’s getting dangerous. People are scared and they’re buying whatever shield charms or weapons they can lay hands on. Can’t say that I blame ‘em.”

  Scary thought. Bellomi didn’t like that correlation one bit.

  “It’s the taxes that does it,” Morgan commiserated.

  “Oh aye, that’s for sure.” Kybartas nodded as if Morgan had just said some universal truth. “The taxes are enough to take away a man’s bread and hearth, it is. Why, just the other day, they came out with a new one!”

  Morgan frowned in dismay. “You’re pulling my leg.”

  “I wish I were! And it’s strictly for business owners like myself, to boot. I don’t know how much longer I can stay in business this way, I tell you. I’ve got to pay three taxes as it stands.”

  Bellomi’s eyes nearly crossed. Three?! “Um, Master Kybartas, can you explain that to me? I know there’s the royal tax that everyone has to pay…” he trailed off invitingly.

  “Indeed, indeed, and when the old king was on the throne that’s all there was.” Kybartas leaned across the counter to see him better, making the wood creak under his substantial weight. “But when King Aren stopped governing, and the Council took over, they changed matters altogether. The royal tax stopped paying for anything city-related. So if the roads needed to be redone, or the schools and hospitals wanted to stay in business, then it was up to the city itself to pay for it. So they created a tax, each city did, to pay for things as came.”

  Bellomi felt a wave of dread wash down his spine and settle into a messy knot in his gut. A city…a city had to pay for itself. Just what were the royal taxes going towards, then? Only a small amount went to paying for the maintenance of the palace and the soldiers. He had an uneasy notion he knew where the Council had put the rest of that money.

  “Only, of course, each city has different expenses and needs,” Morgan added sourly. “So their rate of taxes are different. Dealing with each city is like going into different countries, because the taxes are either higher or lower depending.”

  “I don’t envy you that,” Kybartas sympathized. “It’s bad enough for me, when I’m ordering in stock. But this new tax is specifically for people who own a business. They take five percent off your profit or whatever goods you hold on the last day of the month.”

  Morgan’s eyes nearly bulged. “Sweet mercy, man, that’s outrageous! That would add up to a considerable sum. How can you
even afford to pay it?”

  “How can anyone?” Kybartas countered wearily. “It was no joke, me saying earlier that I might not be able to stay in business. With all three taxes together, I’m giving away almost half my income. It’s coming on bad times, Master Morgan, make no mistake about it.”

  Half his income. Half his income. Bellomi rubbed both hands over his face, trying to disguise an expression of outright horror. In the early reign of his father, indeed throughout most of the history of Windamere, a citizen paid nothing more than ten percent of their income. The rest went to their upkeep and whatever they wanted to spend it on. How were his people even surviving on half of their income?

  “It’s a sad thing to hear, I know, child.” Kybartas nodded, commiserating. “I don’t know how you’ll manage in the future, I truly don’t.”

  “Yes, sir.” Bellomi didn’t know what else to say.

  Morgan tapped the counter with a hand. “No use worrying about it now. We’ll just go on as we always have and hope for a miracle. Now, Master Kybartas, give me specifics and let’s see if I’ve got it on me.”

  They went about bartering and dealing, eventually leaving Kybartas with a healthy stock of items, before stepping back outside. Bellomi hadn’t ended up saying anything more until the door chimed shut behind them.

  “Shocked, Prince?” Morgan murmured to him.

  “It shouldn’t be like this, Morgan.” Bellomi stared around him at the people passing by with new eyes. “What have they done to my country?”

  “Nothing but evil, unfortunately. Why do you think I talked Sevana into going and rescuing you? I saw better than she what the future would hold if I didn’t.”

  So he had Morgan to thank for that? In a way, he wasn’t surprised.

  With renewed determination, he hefted the bag higher on his shoulder. “I will speak with more people today. I need to. I want specifics of what’s been done in the past ten years.”

  Morgan blinked at him, surprised. Then he gave a slight, respectful bow. “As you wish.”

  The rest of the month passed by slowly in something of a blur as one day melded into the next. The matron, Eva, did indeed come up and started preparing all of the meals. She and Sevana got into several fights about “off-limit areas” and “stop this insane cleaning compulsion of yours!” but eventually the two women sorted out their differences and life once again fell into a routine.

  While Bellomi did leave most of his father’s care to Eva, he couldn’t do it completely. He helped shave and dress the man every day, and helped again to settle him in at night. Day by day, the king gained weight and vitality and it eased his heart to see it. At this rate, they could leave for the waterfalls in another three weeks or so. Sevana had said as much.

  But after a month of lessons, training and research, Bellomi needed to get out and breathe some fresh air. He’d been going out regularly with Morgan, still continuing his ‘real life lessons’, training with the swords, and going to the library on a weekly basis (whether he actually needed to or not) but for once, he felt like doing something alone. Just to give his mind some rest from dealing with another personality. He volunteered to go to market for Eva, pulled on his boots and swords, and headed for the front door. Halfway there, it occurred to him that Sevana might need something too, and he deviated his path toward Sevana’s workroom.

  While waiting for the king to recover, she had returned to her usual projects, so knocking on her door contained a certain amount of danger. Ready to duck at a moment’s notice, he very timidly rapped on her door with his knuckles.

  Sevana must have heard the soft tap tap tap as she called out, “Enter!”

  Well, she didn’t sound upset…it should be safe enough. He cracked the door wide enough to poke his head in. Far from being involved in some outlandish experiment that only she would understand, Sevana instead had a clock’s pieces strewn all over the table. One of her clock portals, perhaps? Breathing easier, he pushed open the door and stepped in completely.

  “What are you doing?”

  Not straightening from her hunch over the gears in her hands or looking up, she answered, “Being awesome. What are you doing?”

  He snorted. “Being amazed,” he responded dryly.

  “Is that why you’re interrupting me at this very delicate moment?”

  “Actually, I was heading into the village to pick up some things for Eva and I wondered if you need anything?”

  She paused with three gears balanced in her hands and finally looked up. “Actually, I do. Get me some dye: indigo and yellow to be precise. The biggest bottles they have.”

  “Alright. Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all.” Her attention shifted back to the project in her hands.

  Mentally adding that to his shopping list, he stepped back out and closed the door behind him.

  With the shopping list he had, Bel needed to stop at the general store, the butcher’s, and the farmer’s stand for a few vegetables. He chose to shop by location as the stores lay more or less in a straight line from each other. The late summer season still retained considerably heat, although it was no longer scorching hot, just warm enough to make a trickle of sweat trail down the middle of his back. Perhaps coming to the market in the middle of the day hadn’t been the best of ideas.

  Trying to narrow his vision, lest the jarring colors eventually blind him, he went about his shopping, idly scheming to himself as he haggled over the goods. If he did this quickly enough, he could venture by the library and see if Hana were about. He had, after all, ordered a book from the library the last time he’d been in Milby. (What he’d ordered, he couldn’t remember. But that wasn’t important anyway.)

  Bellomi used every trick of bargaining that Morgan had taught him and got in and out of the market in record time, his basket on his arm heavy with goods. Pleased with himself, he crossed the street from the general store and onto the brick sidewalk of the other side, heading for the two-story library on the corner.

  “Bel?”

  He turned and lit up with an automatic smile when he saw who was calling him. “Hello.” Judging from the basket of books on her arm, Hana must have been in the middle of her usual book deliveries about town.

  “Hello,” Hana returned the greeting with that pretty smile she always gave. But this time an edge of worry creeped in. “Bel, how are you?”

  His smile slipped a little. Why did she look at him like that? And that question had more weight to it than a casual inquiry. “I am well. Why do you ask?”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked both ways before bending slightly to put her head more at his level. In a confidential tone, Hana admitted, “You’re growing too fast. At first, I thought it was just a growth spurt. But now I’m afraid for you. You’ve gained four inches in the past two months, Bel. That’s not natural. You must be hurting.”

  She had no idea… Bel grasped her hands and looked up at her with a panicked smile. Really, how did he respond to this? Morgan had drilled it into his head that a smart man never, ever lied to a woman or left her with the wrong impression. Dire consequences came hand in hand with that. He’d been forced to mislead Hana, but even if he had a good reason for that, he didn’t think she’d just calmly accept it. Well…maybe she would. If she understood what was really at stake, that is. Not that he could tell her all of that.

  “Bellomi?” she prompted, looking even more worried now, her grasp on his hands tightening to a near painful level.

  He didn’t want to leave her with a vague assurance that would leave her dissatisfied. But admitting outright that he lied…he concealed a wince. Maybe, half the truth? “It’s alright. Hana, I feel that I can trust you with the full truth. If you want to know, that is.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The full truth. And what is that?”

  He gulped around the lump that had magically formed in his throat. Here went nothing. “The truth is, I’m not really Sevana’s apprentice.”

  Her eyes grew round. “Oh! We all thoug
ht it strange. But then, why…?”

  “She said that to protect me and to deflect annoying questions.” Thinking about it, he added ruefully, “Mostly to avoid the questions, really.” He smiled crookedly when she laughed in understanding. “You know her, so I don’t think I have to explain. But you see, I was hit by a curse many years ago that prevented me from growing.”

  “Oh? Like the Child Prince?”

  No one ever used his name, did they? He’d never once heard it. No wonder he could use his real name around town without attracting any attention. He found her reaction heartening. She didn’t look mad…maybe he was safe from her ire after all. “Very like that, yes. Sevana picked me up because no one else could figure out how to help me. She still hasn’t broken the curse on me, but she’s found a way around it. I sleep on a special bed at night that allows me to grow. So really, the growth might be strange to you because it’s so fast, but all I’m really doing is making up for lost time.”

  She thought about that for a moment, turning it over in her mind, before slowly nodding. “I see. In that case, I’m glad that she’s helping you and that you’re finally growing. I won’t worry about this. Sevana is…an interesting woman…but she knows what she’s doing.”

  Interesting woman, eh? “She’s certainly that.”

  “Bel…” she bit at her bottom lip again before venturing, “Can I ask how old you are?”

  If he answered honestly, it might be too much information. His age plus his name plus the nature of his curse would give anyone the right information to figure out his true identity. So he hedged a little when he answered. “About twenty.”

  For some reason, this shocked her more than anything else. She actually swayed for a moment, as if her knees went weak. “You’re my age?!”

  He grinned at her. “Close to it.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you were too mature for an eight year old, but…but twenty….”