The Child Prince (The Artifactor)

by Honor Raconteur

  “So, where’s Kip?” she inquired as she closed her bedroom door behind her. Not a peep from either end of the hallway could be heard. In fact, the mountain felt oddly still, as it usually did in the very early hours of the morning. What time was it, anyway?

  Main room, Big responded.

  Not the kitchen? That’s typically where he headed first, in the hopes that Sevana would have pity and feed him. So, too important to be distracted by food? Or was she jumping to conclusions? Forehead drawn together in a half-frown, she lengthened her stride and quickly walked into the main room, leaving echoing footsteps behind her.

  Kip must have thrown some logs onto the dying fire, but he hadn’t been here long, as the warmth from the fireplace hadn’t spread throughout the room yet. He didn’t pace, but stood in front of the flickering fire, shifting from foot to foot in a rare show of impatience. When he did hear her enter, he immediately spun about, jaw set in a tight expression.

  “Sev. I got the message yesterday from King Aren that we’re to entrap the Council in a week. Is he serious?”

  She covered a yawn with her hand as she walked inside and dropped into her favorite chair. “Serious.”

  He ran a hand through his hair in an agitated motion, making his unruly black hair stand up in some interesting spikes. “That’s an insanely short amount of time! We’ve got to capture that noblewoman first.”

  Sevana gave a sour grunt. “I’ll let you argue that point with him. I didn’t make much headway when I tried.”

  Kip finally fell to pacing, nothing more than three long strides in either direction before spinning on his heel and going back the opposite way. “I know he thinks it’ll be a simple matter, because I’ve already tracked down the informant that brokered the deal, but that doesn’t mean I can arrange a meeting with her this quickly!”

  “Will you stop that?” she complained to him. “You’re making me dizzy.”

  He did stop, but abruptly so, standing right in front of her and blocking the light and heat from the fire. “Sev, it’s not going to be that simple. The informant refuses to cooperate for fear of earning that woman’s wrath. He’s not scared enough of me to cooperate.”

  Seriously? Sevana growled in vexation. “We don’t need that kind of wrinkle right now.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  She sank back into the chair, making the leather creak a bit, and thought for a second. “Bel is also delegated to deal with this. I bet he can scare him into line.”

  “Bel?” Kip repeated blankly. “Scary?”

  “He has his moments.” Not that he usually meant to be scary, as far as Sevana could see. It was that indomitable determination and fire in him that made most people flinch, as they instinctively realized that Bel would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. “More importantly, he would have the authority to make promises that would persuade the weasel to cooperate.”

  “There’s that,” Kip granted, with a judicious shrug. “Alright. I have a good idea where he is now, but he tends to move about in the afternoons and evenings, so if we don’t catch him this morning, we’ll never find him later.”

  “We can’t afford to waste another day.” With a sigh, Sevana looked up at the ceiling and requested, “Big, wake up our freeloading prince, would you?”

  Something that might have been an evil chuckle rumbled down the hallways before Big said, He’s awake.

  “He enjoys doing that far too much,” Sevana observed.

  In mere minutes, Bel showed up, hair still mussed from sleep and standing on end. He hadn’t bothered to dress, just shoved his feet into slippers, and only had one sword in hand. When he entered the room, he fixed both of them with a glare—or at least, it would be a glare, if he could get his eyes to focus properly.

  “What?” he snarled.

  “It’s important,” Kip assured him, half-sympathetic. “We’re having trouble with the informant. He won’t cooperate with me and help me trap the noblewoman.”

  “We need you to come along with us and threaten him into line,” Sevana finished. “And we need to leave this morning, as he’ll be impossible to find this afternoon.”

  Bel passed a hand over his eyes, took in a deep breath, and regained his temper. When his hand dropped back to his side, he looked for more like his normal self. “Do I have time to eat breakfast and get dressed, or do we really need to leave right now?”

  “I’d say we could spare an hour, assuming Sevana has a clock portal handy somewhere outside of Lockbright Palace.”

  Sevana looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Hmm. Seven o’clock here, would make it eight o’clock there, and most places opened for business around eight or nine…but she did have one clock in a hotel’s business office that they could safely use until nine. “I have one. But you’d best make it half an hour before we leave.”

  Kip inclined his head toward her. “Then half an hour, as she said.”

  “And we’ll need to do a quick make-up on you,” she warned Bel. “We can’t afford to have anyone see you today, not until we speak to that informant.”

  Bel waved a hand in acknowledgement, not worried about this. “Then I’ll get dressed.”

  “Sorry to wake you like that,” Kip apologized with a half-smile.

  “Oh, it’s not me that you need to be worried about.” A strangely evil glint shone in his eye as he responded, already half-turned for the door. “I can forgive you, under the circumstances. It’s a certain cat that was sleeping with me that you should be concerned about. He’s not as forgiving.” With a casual wave of the hand, he retreated back outside.

  Sevana watched him leave with a foreboding feeling settling in her stomach. Oh dear. Baby had been sleeping with him? The cat had a bad reputation for being devious, clever, and cruel about extracting his revenge.

  She started to worry about herself.

  “Prince Bellomi?” Holly Springer asked uncertainly, hovering in the doorway.

  Bel smiled at her and nodded in reassurance. “It’s me.”

  Sevana well understood her hesitation. Before she had let him out of the mountain, she’d done something of a makeover on him so that he looked half-Sa Kaon. His hair, usually an unruly sandy-blond, was now spelled to look pitch black. His skin looked black too, just leaving his eyes their normal shade of green. To anyone that didn’t know him well, he’d look like a complete stranger.

  Relieved, the innkeeper broke out into a smile and bobbed a quick curtsey. “I’m glad you made it here safely, Your Highness.” Turning, she checked to make sure the door had firmly closed behind her before she came to stand in front of him. Even then, she kept her voice down to a loud whisper. “Master Morgan, Artifactor Sevana, how can I help?”

  Sevana had more or less come along for the ride. She had no plans in place and didn’t want to run this particular show. So she looked at Kip with a pointed arch of the eyebrow. Well able to recognize that look, he heaved a sigh before turning a charming grin on Mistress Springer. “I understand that the informant, Ticker Sullivan, normally comes here to conduct his business?”

  Holly Springer gave a sour nod in confirmation. “That he does. Regularly, to boot. In fact, it’s a rare day he doesn’t show up here at least once.”

  Oh? So maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard to track the man down after all. Sevana shrugged the thought aside. They were here. Nothing to be done about it now.

  “In that case, can I send a message from here saying that there’s someone who wants to meet him?” Kip continued, pointing a finger down at the floor. “And use this room to meet him in?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Holly assured him, only too eager to help.

  They’d gone straight from the mountain to Lockbright City, and then directly to this inn, which Kip had navigated to without difficulty. But then, he’d been traveling the length and breadth of Windamere most of his life because of his father’s work as a tinker. He knew every back alley and shortcut in all the major cities. When they’d gotten to the inn, he’d q
uickly shooed them into one of the private dining rooms before sending word to Holly that they were there and needed her help. He’d certainly picked the right place and person. Nothing but a round table, six chairs, and a sideboard sat in the room, without even a window to help eavesdroppers. And Holly Springer, from that sparkle in her eyes, loved to help a scheme along.

  “In that case,” Kip took a small metal case from his pocket and slipped out a square piece of paper no bigger than the size of his palm. From the same case, he drew out a small pencil, which he used to write a short note. He handed the note to the innkeeper and requested, “Can you send this message to him? Make sure he gets it.”

  “And send in a pitcher of water and a washbasin,” Sevana tacked on.

  This last request confused Holly but she nodded and with a smile and a longing look at the prince, she ducked back out of the room, shutting the door behind her with a tad more force than necessary.

  “Washbasin?” Bel asked her, also confused.

  “Using you to threaten him into cooperating isn’t going to do much good if he doesn’t recognize who you are,” Sevana pointed out impatiently.

  “Ah. Good point.” Wrinkling his nose, he admitted, “It’ll be relief to take it off anyway. It doesn’t feel right having so much makeup on. I don’t know how you women put up with it.”

  Sevana shrugged. She normally didn’t wear makeup either and found it an odd experience the few times she’d bothered to don it.

  “More importantly,” Bel sobered and looked Kip dead in the eye. “Are you sure Lady Verlinden is the one responsible for cursing me and my father?”

  “As certain as I can be,” Kip answered steadily. “Sullivan listened in on both meetings, and he told me the gist of it, although his recollection for the first one was a mite fuzzy on the details. He did remember that she needed to give the magician details on exactly how to break into the palace three times, though. And the time that the meeting took place fits too perfectly with what happened.”

  “Three times?” Bel repeated blankly.

  “Three times makes perfect sense,” Sevana explained, dropping into a chair and putting both feet up on the table’s surface. The hard wooden chair creaked a bit when she rocked it back onto its hind legs. “A magician would have to go in the first time to do a thorough scan of the magical protection you and your father were under, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to craft the spells necessary to get around that protection.”

  Bel’s face filled with dark understanding. “I see.”

  “But the lady actually cursed the man on the last meeting for failing to ‘remove the royal family from power,’” Kip continued, also taking a seat. He seemed beyond tired, no doubt because of the running around he’d been forced to do for the past several weeks. “There’s no doubt. It’s not enough evidence to convict her in a court, though.”

  “Especially not with the current court system,” Bel agreed with dark humor. “But I’ll witness it myself, and grant the authority necessary to imprison her. Speaking of, do you have a good scheme on how to take her out of here once she arrives? I don’t want to risk losing her in the chaos that will come.”

  “Hmmm.” Kip rubbed at his chin, looking askance at Sevana. “I don’t suppose we could jail her up inside of Big for the time being?”

  “And have to feed her, and listen to her screeching?” Sevana complained. “No way, I don’t want to.”

  Bel heaved a long sigh. “I’ll feed her.”

  “Oh, then she’d really screech.” Bel’s cooking skills had improved, but simple ‘improvement’ still left much to be desired. Hit by a sudden idea, Sevana sat up abruptly and looked at Bel with a hopeful smile. “Can I turn her into a frog?”

  The prince blinked at her several times, not quite sure if he should take this request seriously or not. When her smile didn’t falter, he threw back his head on a laugh. “Oh, why not?” he chortled. “It would certainly keep her contained and out of trouble! Have your fun, Sevana, I don’t mind.”

  She pumped both fists into the air. “Yes!”

  “You shouldn’t encourage bad habits,” Kip complained to him. “She’s been looking for permission to hex people for years.”

  Bel’s smile didn’t falter, but a hard light entered his eyes. “After what she’s done, it’s the least she deserves.”

  Kip’s expression became strained. “Ah. True, that.” He wisely let the matter drop and didn’t pursue it any further.

  Holly Springer bustled back in, a washbasin, pitcher full of water, and a towel in hand. She knocked the door back closed with a practiced swing of her hip before settling everything on the table. “Your Highness, I sent a boy ahead with the message and he came back with Ticker’s agreement. I expect him here shortly. I’ll be out in the main room if you need me.” With a wink, the matron let herself out again before anyone could say a word.

  “That was quick,” Bel noted. “This man must live close by.”

  “He does,” Kip confirmed easily, relaxing further in his chair.

  Heaving herself back to her feet, Sevana grabbed up the towel and waved Bel to sit. “Let’s get this makeup off quickly, then.”

  Sevana hadn’t specified what temperature the water should be, but apparently Holly took it upon herself to make sure the water had a nice warm temperature. It splashed and felt good on her skin as she dipped a corner of the towel into the pitcher and started wiping away the makeup. Bel patiently sat still under this process, face turned upwards, eyes closed, and thankfully didn’t squirm. As she had only put makeup on his hands, face and neck, it didn’t take long to remove. “I’ll leave your hair as it is. It’d be a pain to wash it just for this.”

  “It shouldn’t matter anyway,” he concurred, finally opening his eyes. “Thank you, I feel better now.”

  He looked better, too. Bel just didn’t make a convincing Sa Kaon.

  Leaning back in his chair, Bel turned slightly to face Kip, demeanor serious. “I want you to take the lead initially when this man arrives. He already knows you, so it’ll be easier if you address him first. When he starts giving you trouble, I’ll switch with you and start adding the pressure.”

  “A sound plan,” Kip approved.

  A quick knock sounded on the door before Holly slipped inside, hands automatically reaching for the pitcher and used towel. “He just came in. I’ll show him to you.”

  Bel gifted her with one of those dazzling, charming smiles. “My thanks, Mistress Springer.”

  The matron seemed to melt under his gaze for a moment before she visibly collected herself. Blushing, she left the room with a half-skip to her stride.

  With her out of earshot, Sevana jerked a thumb at the prince and accused Kip, “You taught him how to do that, didn’t you?”

  “A prince needs to be charming,” Kip defended himself mildly.

  “She’s going to faint if he keeps doing that,” Sevana predicted.

  Bel gave her an uncertain look. “Too much?”

  “Back if off just a tad,” she advised, amused despite herself. “She’s already giddy around you anyway.”

  Shrugging, Bel flipped a palm up, silently acknowledging that she had a point.

  This time, the knock on the door sounded more formal, and Kip actually had time to call out, “Enter!” before it swung open.

  Sevana studied the man that came in. Behind the man’s back, Holly gave the prince a look that spoke volumes, then she shut the door behind him without a word. Her description of Sullivan as a ‘weasel’ had been dead-on. He looked average, non-descript, from his height down to the plain dark suit he wore. Nothing about him would single him out in a crowd. But the half-deferential attitude and the smile that flickered up and down, eyes looking half-wary as he studied them…it sharply reminded her of a weasel’s behavior.

  “Master Morgan,” he greeted, voice high-pitched and slightly warbling. “If this is about the matter that we previously discussed—”

  “It is,” Kip cut him off
with a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I absolutely must have your cooperation, Master Sullivan.”

  The man gave a badly concealed flinch, his right boot scraping harshly against the wood floor as he started to ease for the door. “I’m afraid that’s quite impossible, you see, the woman that you want to meet is very powerful and she—”

  Bel never once glanced at Kip, just stood from his chair and moved with lethal grace into the other man’s personal space. Sullivan jerked back instinctively, as well he should, as anyone’s survival instincts would be screeching in alarm at this point.

  “She is Lady Verlinden,” Bel said in a deep, dispassionate tone. “Judging from the timeline, and how old she must be now, I would say the Lady Aldena Verlinden, wife of Councilman Robben Verlinden.”

  Sullivan’s lips trembled, a tremor shaking him from head to toe as he stared up into Bel’s eyes. He tried to say something several times, but the words refused to come out.

  “The question is,” Bel asked in a soft, almost gentle tone, “do you know who I am?”

  Giving an aborted shake of the head, Sullivan leaned so far backwards that he almost toppled over.

  “I am Bellomi Dragonmanovich,” he answered, his tone sending shivers up Sevana’s spine. Sullivan, upon hearing that name, lost all color in his face. He looked ready to drop to the ground in a dead faint, too, if he weren’t terrified of what would happen to him while unconscious. Without giving him any reprieve, Bel continued, “Ten years ago you helped a woman find an assassin, and then helped him again to make his way into the palace. I am the man you almost killed. I am the man you helped to put in a locked room for ten years. That is who I am,” he finished in an outright snarl, sounding almost bestial for a moment.

  With a squeak of alarm, Sullivan fell backwards, and then scrambled on his hands until he fetched up into a corner of the room. Having nothing but solid wood behind him, he still kept trying to push himself backwards, desperate to put as much space between him and Bel as possible.