The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (25 page)

“No, your identity and his are a strict secret,” Morgan responded. “Sev, have you figured out a way to break the king’s curse yet?”

“Hmmm?” She threw her hands up in the air and turned away from her shelves. “Oh, I give up. I’ll find the thing later. What did you ask?”

Patiently, Morgan repeated the question, “Have you figured out a way to break the king’s curse yet?”

“Oh, yes. Fortunately, it wasn’t a strong spell, not like Bel’s. Well, strong enough initially—a level ten spell. But of course, over the years it’s worn itself down. It’s now hovering somewhere around an eight.”

After so many lectures and explanations of magic, Bellomi understood that the lower power level made it much easier to combat. “So what do we need to do to break it?”

“Well, the opposite power of a fairy’s kiss is something non-mystical. Any strong element would do it: water, fire, or wind. Since I’m fairly sure Bel doesn’t want me to set his father on fire—”

“Sweet mercy, no!” Bellomi spluttered in indignation. “Are you crazy?!”

“—then it’s either wind or water,” Sevana finished with a shrug and a mischievous smile.

Morgan jerked a thumb in her direction. “Bel, you should know by now that she’s joking when she says things like that.”

“Maybe
you
can tell when she’s joking, but I certainly can’t,” Bellomi retorted. “And this woman chortles like an evil witch when she’s contemplating mayhem. I can totally see her setting someone on fire and enjoying every second of it.”

Far from being insulted by this exchange, Sevana threw her head back and laughed. “I would, at that! But if we want to break the curse, I think going to the waterfalls at the Desolate Mountains is the best bet. They’re fed from an underground lake, so the source is very pure, and they flow into the Daelyn River, so they also have a great deal of power. If we stand him under a waterfall for a few minutes, the spell will shatter like glass.”

Bellomi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Unlike his curse, his father’s could be easily broken. Thank all the gods and guardians of this world. “So when do we go?”

“It’s a long trip.” Sevana frowned, her head tilting back so that she stared absently at the ceiling as she thought. “The Desolate Mountains are at the very northern edge of Kindin, and the particular waterfall I’m thinking of is past Cavin.”

“So somewhere very close to the coast?” Bellomi asked, trying to pinpoint the location.

Morgan looked at him with mild surprise, eyebrows arching. “You know your geography.”

“Kid’s got the world memorized,” Sevana assured him absently. “But yes, thereabouts. Frankly, I don’t think we can drag your father up there yet. He’s too weak. The trip will be very physically hard for him, even by using the cloud skimmer.”

Bellomi blinked. He had no idea what that was. “Cloud skimmer?”

“Another vehicle of Sev’s,” Morgan answered. “It carries multiple people. It’s a bit dicey to use, though, in bad weather. It’s faster than walking or horseback, though.”

So, like every other method of travel that Sevana had devised, it had its drawbacks. Color him surprised. But if there
were
hazards, then… “Then we wait until he’s stronger.”

“I want to feed him some nourishment and health potions, but I can’t find them in the storeroom.” Sevana gave an aggravated look to the world in general. “It would speed up his recovery tenfold.”

A light went off in his head. “Is that why you were looking for the mirror?”

“Of course.”

Well, if they could speed up his father’s recovery, then…“Why don’t I help you look for it?” Bellomi offered with a charming smile.

~ ~ ~

Morgan came and fetched him early the next morning, ostensibly to help deal with several products that needed to be delivered in the nearby city of Klose. Well, with Sevana’s clock system, it seemed nearby at any rate. In order to use the clock in the city of Klose, they needed to be through before business hours. Sevana kept the secret of her clocks very close to her chest and didn’t reveal it unless absolutely necessary.

Considering where half her clocks were located (nobleman’s houses, palaces, mayor’s offices), Bellomi could well understand why.

Of course, going through like this mean that they couldn’t return the same way until late that evening, after the office had closed for the day. He and Morgan, carrying two heavy sacks full of odds and ends, went for an early breakfast at the nearest inn. They waited there until most of the businesses had opened their doors before leaving.

Bellomi stepped out into the open street by the man’s side and took in the street around him. It had certainly picked up while they were inside. Now people of every profession and age were going around, some walking, others riding or guiding along carts. For a street that seemed eerily ghost-like not an hour ago, the place was lively now, almost boisterously loud with conversations overlapping each other and a strange concoction of scents invading his nose made from the most pleasant of smells to the most awful of ones. He had to squint, too, to avoid being hit by the strong rays of the morning sun coming in over the rooftops. Even with this only being the morning sun, they were in the beginning stages of summer, and the warm air promised that it would become scorching hot soon.

“This way,” Morgan encouraged him, heading northward along the street, dodging people and carts alike with an easy stride. “We’ve several places that take our wares with no questions asked, and those are the ones we’ll visit first. Then we’ll take what’s left and hit the open market.”

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?