The Sleeping God (The Disinherited Prince Series Book 4)

by Guy Antibes

  “Fadden helped quite a bit,” Pol said.

  Namion smiled. It made Pol’s skin crawl. “I am sure that he did. He’s a competent man. Softhearted perhaps, but competent. Homan says that you had adventures along the way. You survived all the way to Wailua. Even I haven’t been there. You even rescued a Pirate maiden.”

  “She was to be sacrificed by the Shardian Magicians Circle—”

  “Who are very powerful and have commissioned the Hounds to retrieve both women. You haven’t shaken off pursuit.” Namion said the words as if he enjoyed giving the message.

  Pol looked at Homan, who didn’t look at all pleased with Namion’s news. “He is here to assess if the magicians are being influenced by Botarra or Bossom. As we have thought about the pattern, it is more likely that Botarra is the influence, despite losing an ally. That was our position when we last talked, and I have seen nothing to change it.”

  “I doubt it,” Namion said. “Bossom likes to show Fistyra who is in charge from time to time.”

  “The pattern will clear this up soon enough,” Pol said. “Is there anything else?”

  Homan shook his head. “I do wish you both would make peace.”

  Namion turned and looked out the window. Pol just shrugged. He mounted his horse, again from the moving carriage, and rode back alone to his friends.

  “You’d never guess who is riding with the Prelate.”

  “King Ricord,” Loa and Paki said at the same time.

  The words were hard to say. “Namion. He thinks the Bossomians are behind the attacks, and he also contends that his precious revolution will stop the Pontifer.”

  “No.” Shira glared at Pol for bearing such awful news.

  “No, what?” Fadden said gently.

  “No to trusting Namion, and no to Bossom fomenting the attacks,” she said.

  “That makes at least two of us,” Pol said. “We will have to endure his arrogance all the way to Malcia.”

  “Not if we avoid the Prelate. Namion will stick to him and ignore us,” Kell said. “He ignored Paki and me quite effectively while we traveled with him.”

  Paki grinned. “Except for a bit of gambling.”

  “That is a good strategy,” Pol said. “Can we avoid him?”

  Fadden thought for a bit. “He will visit enough to gloat. I know him better than any of you. He won’t miss the opportunity to rub in the fact that he is the one riding with the Prelate.”

  ~

  Namion and the Prelate shared a table with the officer in charge of the soldiers and a ranking priest. Pol and his group ate at a larger table across the common room. Namion kept looking over towards them and finally rose and walked over.

  “Are you still pursuing your childish dream to see the Sleeping God at Fassin?”

  Unbeknownst to Namion, Homan had followed Namion over to Pol’s table.

  “Not so childish. I have been to Fassin myself. It is an incredible sight.”

  Namion flinched and turned around. “Fake.”

  “And how do you know?” the Prelate said.

  “It must be. What kind of god would be stupid enough to be caught on Phairoon?”

  Pol could see Homan’s face turn red at Namion’s arrogance and possible blasphemy.

  “Do you have any sense of wonder at how our world works?”

  Namion shook his head and held out his hand. He made a fist. “If I can touch it, smell it, feel it,” he looked at Fadden and Pol, “or locate it, that I believe. Past that, the world doesn’t exist.” Namion looked at the hostile glances at the table and a similar glare from the Prelate. “I will be heading to my room.”

  “Prepare to ride tomorrow. My carriage won’t be able to hold your expansive ego.”

  Namion turned red himself and stalked out of the common room.

  “He does your Emperor no credit.” The Prelate turned and walked back to his table.

  Fadden shook his head. “Such an idiot. Namion was a different person before he went to Deftnis. I don’t know what happened to change him, but he has been painful to be around since he returned.”

  Could Valiso Gasibli have ruined Namion? Pol didn’t know, but Fadden lumped the pair together. He couldn’t see how Val would have ruined him. Val had disappointed him a number of times, but Val always had a good reason. His decision to desert him on the way to Borstall and the siege that followed made sense, even today. Pol never liked the decision, but it was consistent with his pattern of Val.

  Namion’s pattern changed. It seemed to have become worse since they parted at Voerra. Pol wondered if there was some other influence working on the Seeker. He would have to sneak a look inside Namion’s head to see if he could see the sheen of mind-control.

  ~

  Pol had never thought Namion capable of petulance, but there he was riding behind the Prelate’s carriage, head down. It had to be an act.

  “Something is up with Namion,” Pol said to Fadden.

  The Seeker hardly reacted when Pol rode up. Namion looked at Pol, but looked sick more than anything.

  Pol put his hand on Namion’s shoulder. “Are you feeling all right? Fever?” Pol slipped his hand on Namion’s forehead, expecting him to turn away, but he didn’t.

  A speckled film covered Namion’s brain. Pol hadn’t seen that kind of film before, but he removed it in a moment, replaced by a shield.

  Namion wobbled in the saddle. Fadden, who had followed Pol, rushed his horse to the other side and held Namion in place so he wouldn’t fall. Fadden and Pol managed to get all three horses to the side of the road and helped Namion to the ground, who looked at Pol with suspicion.

  “What did you do to me?” Namion looked up, his eyes full of pain.

  “I removed a film of mind-control. Do you know who put the spell on you?”

  “That’s what it was. One of the Pontifer’s magicians took me aside in Demina. He seemed to disappear, but I wasn’t thinking straight, was I?”

  Pol shook his head, but he had an awful thought. “The revolution. Did it happen?”

  Namion had to collect his thoughts for a moment. “No!” Namion said. “Something went wrong in Voerra.” He rubbed his forehead and looked up at Pol. “There wasn’t a revolution. South Parsimol and Botarra are united. I told King Ricord that South Parsimol’s revolution succeeded, didn’t I?”

  Fadden nodded. “You’ve been made a dupe, Namion. What were you going to do at the Malcian Council?”

  Namion looked sheepish. “The Council will be disrupted, and the Prelate will have to withdraw to Bastiz in disgrace. Botarra is behind it all!” He said it as if he had heard it for the first time from someone else.

  Pol jumped on his horse and sped forward to catch up with the rest of the entourage. He had the Prelate’s carriage stopped.

  “Did you catch the same fever that Namion did?” Pol said, checking the Prelate’s forehead. “We should go back to Bastiz. The magicians might plan to disgrace you at the council.”

  Homan gave Pol a bland look. “I already know. There are more of the King’s men converging on Malcia.”

  “You led us into a trap?” Pol said.

  “Not for you, my son.” Homan put his hand on Pol’s shoulder. “Should you wish to fight with us, I’ll not say no. It is up to you. Namion gave us false information. I have my own network of spies to the south. We already knew that Namion had switched allegiances. His revolution failed, but I wanted to keep him close.”

  “Not by his own free will. A Botarran magician tampered with his mind.”

  Homan looked angry. “Such a thing is an abomination, but then you’ve seen worse, haven’t you?”

  “Compulsion is worse, but this is something in between, stronger than what I saw at Tesna, but not so much that Namion lost his personality. I already took the liberty to place a shield on your mind, but it will dissipate before the council meetings.”

  Homan nodded. “Can you do so with the rest of our entourage? Two of my priests are adepts. Perhaps you can teach them the
manipulation and they can protect the other force.”

  “Certainly. Maybe we should stop to rest.”

  ~

  Namion looked embarrassed. After a heated session in the carriage, Namion walked out looking even more chastened, but soon he recovered and sat with the other magicians learning how to place shields. Shira, Fadden, Namion, two of the priests, and Loa, surprisingly, were able to protect Homan’s men. Both priests and Namion rode off with ten men, seeking the rest of Homan’s forces.

  The Prelate watched the men depart. “I thought Namion was stronger, but he showed up at Bastiz acting a bit strange. He specifically didn’t want to meet you until you were on the road.”

  Pol nodded. “Probably so we wouldn’t turn back. I had no intention of deserting you.”

  “I am fortunate for that. At least none of our men possessed the taint.”

  Pol pursed his lips. “Taint is a good description. It looked more diseased than the film I perceived at Tesna. Do you have a strategy for the Council?”

  “The soft hand that we talked about using in the countryside before might not work now. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Maybe not in the short term, but it is the best way over time,” Pol said. “With an aggressive magicians guild, the pattern changes.”

  “A priest doesn’t look forward to all of this strife,” Homan said, sighing. “It goes against my nature, but I have responsibilities to rule at King Ricord’s side. We will do what is necessary.”

  Pol didn’t believe a word the Prelate just said. He was a power in Bastiz. “Can you get word to the Bossomians?”

  “Three of the soldiers who left with Namion and my brothers carry messages to the forces at our border and will ride all the way to Missibes, if birds can’t be found,” Homan said.

  Pol escorted the Prelate back to his carriage. As they moved forward, Pol and Fadden, with their abilities to locate, rode to positions in front with an army officer. Shira, Loa, Paki, and Kell rode just behind the Prelate. Pol worried about the increased danger, but they were now included in Fistyra’s fight to stay independent of Botarra.

  Tensions increased as they drew closer to Malcia. The Prelate directed the army to take an alternate route to the site of the council. Now they spent each night at a camp, and soldiers re-supplied at each village they passed. They wouldn’t enter any towns or cities on the new route.

  Namion and two soldiers joined them in the evening before they were to enter Malcia.

  “A force of a few hundred Botarrans is camped about five miles southwest of the city. Captain Deaz has bypassed Malcia and will engage them tomorrow.”

  “Are they protected?”

  “All five hundred of them,” Namion said. “Fistyra has always succeeded in batting away Botarran incursions, so Deaz says.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Homan said. “Botarrans fight like the thugs they are. That’s why we never worried about them. With South Parsimol adding to their numbers, a great many thugs might be too much for our forces.”

  “And you can’t rely on the Bossomians,” Namion said.

  “Oh, I can if there is an alliance. If the Bossomians have to consume their own grain, they will lose a great deal of money, and that will drive them to our border with Botarra. Money talks. It always has and always will,” Homan said. He sighed as if the truth hurt. What Pol could pick up from the man’s pattern, it likely did.

  In the morning they broke camp. Pol and his group, now including Namion, were fully armed and armored as they proceeded to Malcia. About two hours later they crossed the road where the army had ridden earlier in the day. The dust still swirled and eddied in the light wind from the passing of so many riders, and following the hoof prints were supply wagons moving at a slower pace.

  ~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ~

  Malcia sprouted up in the middle of a plain. As the company approached, Pol noticed a wide, lazy river appearing to their right. They stopped for a final break before continuing on.

  “That is the Paraliz River. It and another to the south, which defines our border with Botarra, provide a constant supply of water to the fields, orchards, and vines of Fistyra,” Homan said.

  “We don’t cross it to get to Malcia?” Pol asked.

  “No, it flows on the other side, but it acts as a barrier for anyone hoping to escape to Bossom. Are you sure you don’t want to take your group and leave us now? There are three bridges on the other side of the city,” Homan said.

  “We’ve discussed it. Namion was particularly insistent that we go in with you.”

  The Prelate licked his lips. “He has much to atone for, that one. You shouldn’t be dragged into a fight that is not your own.”

  “We’ve been battle-tested against conventional and magical foes,” Pol said. “We wouldn’t feel right leaving you defenseless against the magicians guild, regardless of what Namion decided to do.”

  Homan raised his hands and dropped them in capitulation, “I wouldn’t consider myself defenseless, but you can join us and contribute the way you see fit. Captain Deaz should make quick work of the Botarrans and will be joining us before the Council convenes. It would be appropriate to let him know what you might be doing.”

  Pol bowed to the Prelate. “I will consult with Namion and Fadden. I’m not sure who will be in charge among us.” He grinned and left Homan to find his group.

  He found Namion and Fadden in a heated discussion.

  “Calm down,” Pol said.

  Both of them looked at Pol, not appreciating his intervention.

  “Someone has to lead,” Fadden said. “And I still don’t trust him.” He glared at Namion.

  “Then don’t,” Pol said. “Why don’t we come up with some general strategy and operate independently of each other? The Prelate doesn’t expect us to work with his soldiers.”

  Namion snorted and adjusted his tunic. Fadden just turned his back on both of them.

  “Now is not the time to act like children.”

  “So speaks a child,” Namion said.

  Pol pressed his lips together. “Do you want to go a round with me? I’m a pattern-master, just like you.”

  “You don’t have to go that far,” Namion said, looking defensive.

  Fadden’s shoulders began to shake. He turned around laughing. “Namion is not a pattern-master, Pol.”

  “But he’s a gray?”

  “One can locate without being a pattern-master. He also can’t assume disguises very well, and neither can I.”

  “You’ve deceived me,” Pol said to Namion.

  The Seeker shrugged. “I still know the seven Volian languages and am a better Seeker than Fadden.” Namion shot an angry look Fadden’s way.

  “I’ve already told Pol that I’m not as good a Seeker as you or Valiso Gasibli.”

  Namion paled a bit at the mention of Gasibli’s name, as spoken by Fadden. There were things Pol didn’t know about the relationship between the three Seekers.

  “Then you circulate among the crowd,” Pol said. “Fadden will lead Paki and Kell in protecting the Prelate, and Shira, Loa, and I will do the magical stuff wherever it’s needed. Does that split our group up enough?”

  “Suits me,” Fadden said. Pol could tell by his expression that he would basically ignore Namion.

  “I’m on my own then?” Namion said.

  “You can join my group, if you wish. We’ll need someone who can get around, and you know Fistyran better than Shira or I.”

  Being independent, but still with a group, seemed to placate Namion, since he nodded.

  “Have either of you been to Malcia before?”

  “Just passed through,” Fadden said, “a long time ago.”

  Namion nodded again. Pol took it that neither of them would be much help, but Pol, Namion, and Fadden could locate. Pol wished that Shira could pick that talent up, but she hadn’t been able to do so.

  The column began to move, so the seven of them mounted and began the l
ast leg of their journey into Malcia. Fadden, Kell, and Paki rode together behind the others. Pol could hear Fadden’s gentle instruction. Namion rode by himself at first, but Loa moved up to talk to Namion.

  Shira poked Pol with her bow. “Closer. We have some talking to do.”

  “Is Loa’s conversation with Namion part of your talking strategy?”

  She smiled. “Do you trust Namion?”

  Pol had to shake his head. “He will have to prove himself. Even before the mind-control, he played us. He was turned at Demina when we stayed at the Pastor’s palace.”

  “That was when I began to wonder, but then I abruptly left the scene.”

  “I suspected he had a hand in it, but he might not have been his own person at the time.”

  Shira just nodded. “So he works for us, but we keep an eye on him.”

  “If he gives us good information, trust can be built up,” Pol said. “We have to act as if he isn’t around and about. If he comes up with something really actionable, we’ll have to evaluate whether to do something, right?”

  “Right,” Shira said. “Are we stuck with him for the rest of our trip?”

  Pol made a face. “I think we are, if he lasts. The Emperor—”

  “But we have Fadden.”

  “Fadden will keep him in check,” Pol said. “Fadden truly is a pattern master, so if it comes to blows…”

  “And if it comes to magic?”

  “Then it’s up to me and you. We are the strongest, unless Loa is stronger.”

  Shira bit her lip. “She isn’t. Maybe she is as strong as Fadden or Namion, but with a different set of talents.”

  “Most people have different talents.”

  Shira smiled conspiratorially. “I’d like to think so.”

  Loa returned, conveniently ending the conversation before Shira took offense at whatever Pol was going to say.

  “What an impossible man,” she said so quietly to Shira that Pol had to enhance his hearing. “Perhaps my father is a tiny bit more conceited.” She made a sound deep in her throat from frustration or some unpleasant memory. “I’ll leave it at that, for now,” Loa said. She remained silent for the rest of their ride into Malcia.