The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (14 page)

His brows furrowed as he thought about that for a moment. “So just by staying inside of Big, the curse is weakening?”

“At a very slow rate, yes.”

“So…so locking me away in that room in Lockbright was exactly the wrong approach.” Bel sounded disturbed as he worked through it aloud. “I wasn’t anywhere near the earth, or flowing water, or wood. If I had been, then the curse would have been naturally worn down over the years and I would already be free of it.”

Not a point that she had considered before, but yes, he was exactly right. “Yes.” She waited, watching him from the corner of her eye. Learning how to think about things from different angles was also a very necessary trait for a king. She had no intention of feeding him the answers when he could work it out for himself.

“Sevana,” he said slowly, eyes looking out toward the forest, “why didn’t anyone realize all of this before? I was examined by hundreds of different magical practitioners. Not one thought to test what would happen if I were near elemental sources.”

A very good question. “Think it through yourself. Why do you think they overlooked that?”

His brows furrowed together in a deep groove as he thought. “Artifactors do more than create magical tools, right? I read once that they also create spells and potions.”

“That’s right.”

“So if you’re the one creating all of the spells, then do magicians not know how? Do they only know how to use the spells and tools you create?”

“Most of them are that way.” She gave him a faint smile of approval. Good, he’d figured that out on his own. It saved her from tedious explanations. “Magicians like Pierpoint are the exception. He actually creates most of his own spells and potions.”

“Which is why he’s one of the more famous and powerful magicians in Mander,” Bel finished in understanding. “But why does it work like that? Why don’t more magicians create their own spells?”

A good question. “In order to create a spell or magical tool, you have to know mathematics, science, magic elements, elementology, mythology and runes. A spell is not simply one ingredient, but several mixed together that forms a specific result. To top it all off, the spell must be combined in such a way that it can be released by saying three or four words.”

“I think I see. Most magicians I met didn’t know any of that.”

“Few people have the intelligence necessary to learn everything much less master each field of study to be an Artifactor. That’s why there’s so few of us. It’s not just knowledge, but talent.”

Bel nodded, accepting this but he looked oddly disturbed. “So really, if you want a curse broken, then the
first
person you should call is an Artifactor.”

“That would be the best approach,” she agreed. That’s how she’d known from the beginning that no one in Lockbright really wanted that curse broken. If they had, they’d have called for her or one of the other Artifactors.

He apparently reached the same conclusion. “When I am restored, I’m dismissing everyone on the Council. They obviously were trying to steal power for themselves from the very beginning.”

“A good plan,” she approved. “They’re a bunch of greedy old fools anyway. Ahhh, don’t lean back! I need to take more readings.”

He gave her quite the look for that even as he reluctantly leaned forward again.

She lifted the wand a bit more and aimed it directly at him, reading the numbers appearing in her book avidly. “Hmm, very interesting.”

“You mean amusing,” Bel accused.

“Yes, that too,” she agreed with a straight face. “You can stop hugging the tree now.”

Relieved, Bel let go and quickly climbed down. “So, will it work?”

“It’s effective, but about as effective as earth alone.” Sevana rubbed at her chin and thought about it. Earth and wood were very hard to combine so if she had a choice, she wouldn’t do that. Instead, she wanted to try an easier combination of elements. “We’re going to have to try a mix of water and earth next.”

Bel stopped short and looked at her sideways. “Water and earth mixed together is
mud
, Sevana.”

She patted him on the head mockingly. “What a smart little prince you are.”

He knocked her hand off his head and stepped away. “Stop that! You’re not seriously going to make a mud puddle for me to sit in, are you?”

“Heavens no,” she answered dismissively. He let out a breath of relief. Biting back an evil smile, she said seriously, “That wouldn’t have enough power to show me anything within a day. We’ll have to go to a place with natural mud.”

His head creaked around to face her, a look of horror on his face. “T—” he had to swallow before he could speak in a hoarse voice. “The only natural mud large enough in the world is the Mudlands in Kindin.”

As expected, he knew the place. “That’s right. It’ll be a bit of a trip as we have to go through the Sea of Grass, past Guide City and over the Izusa Sea to reach it.” But he frankly needed to see more of the world anyway, so it served a dual purpose to her mind.

Bel closed his eyes in fatalistic acceptance. “When do we leave?”

“Ugh,
that stinks.”

“I warned you,” Sevana said dispassionately.

“I know you did, but….” Bellomi blinked several times as his eyes started to water up. In self-preservation, his nose shut down completely. What had she said earlier? Something about this being a sulfur-fed spring?

For some strange reason he had expected the mud here to bubble up and pop like some evil witch’s potion. But it only moved in a slow, sluggish manner, slowly rippling outwards. The thick, black mud appeared to have gravel mixed in, looking a hundred times worse than that riverbed a week ago had. Bellomi stared at the mud in distaste. She didn’t honestly expect him to—

Sevana jerked a thump toward the nearest mud. “Hop in.”

He kept his feet firmly planted on solid ground. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accused.

“Of course. Now hop in.”

His shoulders slumped. She could have tried denying it, at least.

He couldn’t just stand there. That wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, it was only mud. Was he not the 49
^th
Prince of Windamere and its future king? Did he not swear that he would do anything, sacrifice anything, to break the curse?

Bellomi eyed the mud again. The princes in fairytales got to do something heroic like slaying a dragon or capturing an ogre, curse it. Of course, they also got fairy godmothers while he was stuck with…he stole a glance at his cranky Artifactor and heaved a resigned sigh.

Mustering up his courage, he stripped down to shorts and gingerly put a toe into the mud. It slid over his skin with a squelching sound and a slimy, sandpapery feel. “W-wait, what is this?” he demanded, half-panicked. “It feels like it’s trying to suck me in!”

“It probably is,” she responded with a distinct lack of concern. In fact, she’d already pulled out some sort of large umbrella and folding chair so that she could relax comfortably in the shade.

He pointed at them. “Where did those come from? You didn’t have them before.” Had she crafted them out of thin air? She certainly hadn’t done it from nearby wood as the nearest forest lay a good three far-sees away.

“No, I had them on me. They were just smaller.”

He looked around in a pointed manner. “And where’s my umbrella?”

“It will interfere with the test.”

He didn’t believe that. Not for one moment.

“And having your foot in the mud does
not
cut it.” Sevana arched a commanding eyebrow.

Grumbling under his breath, he eased into the sticky mud one inch at a time, face wrinkling up in distaste. How could anyone live near such a revolting place?

From the safety of her comfortable chair, she called to him, “The longer it takes for you to get in, the longer you have to stay in!”

In a swift movement, Bellomi dipped his hand into the mud, got a good hand full of it, and slung it at her. Sevana dodged it with a simple twist of her torso, chuckling like a demented jack-o-lantern.

He sank into the mud up to his shoulders with a
plop
, controlling his reflex to gag.
I swear, by my name as Dragonmanovich, that I will somehow pull her in here with me. Somehow, some way, I will coat her with mud
.

“I can hear your evil plotting from here, Bel.”

Perhaps she could, but it wouldn’t save her.

He hunkered down in the mud, trying to breathe through his mouth and waited. And waited. And…waited….

The sun rose incrementally higher in the sky, slowly warming up the day. The underground spring kept the mud moving, fortunately, otherwise he would be baked into place at this rate.

He watched Sevana for a while, but she clearly had no intention of idly chatting to pass the time. Her head had been buried in a book ever since he got in. Bored, he tried luring her out with a sensible question. “Sevana. After the curse is broken, how do I win my throne back? The Council isn’t just going to hand it meekly over.”

“That sounds like a Bel problem, not a Sevana problem.” She flipped a page without looking up at him. “My job is to break the curse. Everything else is up to you.”

A Bel problem, eh? He’d been so focused on training himself and breaking the curse that he hadn’t really thought about what to do afterward. Some of his ancestors had been forced to overthrow rebellions and reclaim their thrones. He remembered learning about them, vaguely, from his early childhood when he still had tutors. Maybe he should research that. Some of their methods might work for his situation.

He didn’t have enough information to really plan anything now. Bored, and with nothing else to do, he started making idle patterns in the mud with his hands. It formed ridges and hills easily and maintained the new shape rather well. Interest slightly piqued, he started forming walls, building the basic layout of Lockbright Palace. Of course, moving the mud around sent little puffs of sulfur stench into the air. But after sitting here for so long, he found the smell easy to bear and it didn’t deter him.

Bellomi had the main palace layout built and had started in on the gardens when Sevana finally noticed his antics.

“You’re playing in the mud.”

Not a question, but he answered it anyway. “Yes, I am.”

“Will you stop that and sit still? Act your age.”

“Which one? Eight or twenty-one?” he looked at her with a smirk, only to freeze in mid-motion when he realized she had a wand pointing at him and her notebook open in her lap. He gave her a hopeful, questioning look. “What’s the result?”

“Not as effective as water or wood.” She tucked the wand away in her belt holder and closed the book. “I suspected as much.”

Suspected as much? So what had this really been about? A confirmation of her theories? He hoped that was all it was. A part of him suspected that she had an ulterior motive, though.

He didn’t question her on her motives. Frankly, he didn’t want to know. And if it meant he didn’t have to sit in this stinky place any longer then he’d take the chance to get out of here while he could.

Bellomi started to stand and quickly realized he had a problem. He didn’t have anything firm to stand
on
. Climbing in, he had sunk easily. But how to climb out…? He started to wiggle, clawing at the top of the mud, trying to find some purchase. No luck.

“You look like a turtle on its back,” Sevana observed with amusement.

“I feel like one, too,” he groused. “Any help would be appreciated.”

“Try harder,” she suggested with a thrice-cursed twinkle in her eye.

“I said
help
, not
advice
.”

Chuckling to herself, she reached for a different wand at her belt and flicked it toward him with a languid command of, “
AKA NEFOLE.
”

Water started gushing out, soaking him and destroying his mud palace instantly. He almost protested at her choice of aid. Wouldn’t more water make things
worse
? But it quickly became apparent that this method would work as the mud lost its grip on him. With more water in the mix, he floated more to the top and he found it easier to slosh his way toward solid ground.

With a sigh of relief, he finally got his feet back on solid ground. When he looked up, he found Sevana pointing a wand at him with a glint of mischief in her eye. Instinct said to duck, but he had nothing to duck
behind
and he absolutely refused to climb back into that bog.

She twirled the wand point in a small circle and intoned, “
DONE GONBE.”

In an instant, all of the dirt clinging to him and every trace of water whizzed away from his skin and hit the ground in a series of splats. He jolted, feeling a rather unpleasant stinging sensation, as if he had just been wrapped up in rough wool for a moment. “Oww,” he hissed, more in protest than pain.

“Oh, this spell smarts a mite,” Sevana warned him sweetly.

He gave her a look that would have struck a lesser man down on the spot. “Warn me
before
you hit me with it, then.”

She turned away as if she hadn’t heard him, collapsing and shrinking her chair and umbrella before stowing them in a pouch on her belt. Funny, Baby reacted the same way when teasing someone. Who’d taught who that bad habit? He had to wonder.