The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (3 page)

Thank all magic I’m not that tall,
she grumbled, not for the first time. She’d wanted to make the clocks bigger, but all grandfather clocks adhered to a certain range of height, and to avoid suspicion, she’d had to scale things a certain way. It forced her to do this awkward bend, twist movement just to fit through the clock.

Space warped slightly as she crossed the dimension of one clock and stepped into the other. On the other side of the twin clock, the world was very quiet. Not to mention deserted. It was late afternoon here, so everyone had likely sat down to dinner. Perfect. It meant she had less chances of bumping into someone she didn’t want to. Like nobility. Or guards.

From the inside, she popped the latch on the glass front and stepped through, carefully closing it behind her. Then, just to insure that she didn’t meet anyone, she walked up the wall to the ceiling. The boots reacted perfectly, as expected of something she had made. It felt like walking on the ground, the boots gripped the ceiling surface so naturally. Aside from dodging a few chandeliers and buttresses, she might as well be walking on the tiled floor.

The only problem that she foresaw was that she would likely sneeze up here. The dust gathered on the edges of the trim was thick enough to plant a flowerbed in. Well, not that she could blame the cleaning staff. How would a normal person go about dusting something twenty feet in the air, after all? But still, if she’d known it’d be like this, she’d have brought something to tie over her mouth and nose.

Trying not to breathe the dust in, she started jogging. The prince’s chambers were supposed to be somewhere in the east wing. If she followed this hallway down, took a left, and then went up a flight of stairs, she’d be there. But which room?

I’m going to have to use that seeking spell, after all.

As she jogged up, she started thinking about what she’d do after she had him in hand. Just shoving him in a room and letting Big babysit him didn’t seem like the right tactic. After all, if he didn’t have the skills to be king, then breaking his curse would be futile effort on her part. Rats, she’d have to think up some sort of teaching regime to make sure he was up to snuff. She let out a sigh…and almost instantly regretted it, as it nearly set off a sneezing fit.

The next time she broke into the palace, she’d bring a cleaning wand with her. This was ridiculous. How could anyone skulk in this place when they were constantly fighting the urge to sneeze?

Alright, so training for the prince, after a thorough diagnostic, of course. Then he’d…wait…what was his name again
? Sevana paused with one foot on the ceiling leading up, brow furrowed in concentration. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember his name. The prince had been cursed when she was six or seven, if she remembered right, and ever since then people called him “The Child Prince.”

Ah, well. She’d learn it shortly.

Shrugging, she continued upwards. As she walked, she took out the seeking rod and held it loosely in her right hand. “Ne Fole,” she commanded softly. “Ziik pov.”

The rod instantly jerked upwards and to the left. Good, he was not at the formal dinner with the others. She hadn’t expected him to be. Ever since he’d been cursed, he’d disappeared completely from the public eye, becoming little better than a hermit. (Although considering the Council magistrate’s open delight at his state, she had to wonder if the prince hid in his room or if he were imprisoned there.)

In a few moments, she entered the right hallway, the rod pointing her unerringly toward the door. There were no guards stationed there. This didn’t surprise her, not with a lock like
that
. She hadn’t seen a lock that large and impressive since she’d visited a dungeon troll.

Well, fortunately she didn’t have to deal with the lock. (She hadn’t brought any unlocking charms to begin with, either, which she’d have to remember next time.)

But that did answer her question. With a lock like that, the prince was definitely a prisoner.

She put the searching rod back in its holster and walked to the end of the hallway, where a trio of large glass windows dominated the wall. She pushed one open, walked outside and onto the stone blocks of the castle’s exterior, and continued to the next available window. This window, however, had a small balcony attached to it, which was helpful. Someone had even thrown it open, which made it all a little easier on her.

Happy this was going so smoothly, she dropped onto the balcony’s edge and took a peek inside. As expected of a palace room for royalty, it had a vast size to it with cream colored walls, edged in golden trim, with very expensive velvet furnishings here and there. The plush carpet alone could feed a small village for a year. But her eyes passed over all of this without worry, looking instead for occupants. No guards or servants in the room, it seemed. Good. Stepping into view, she casually strolled inside. Of course, that’s when the first wrinkle in her plans appeared.

The only person in the room lounged in a chair, a leg dangling over one arm, and an oversized book in his lap. Or at least, it looked oversized in comparison to him.

Sevana stared at him for a long moment, not quite believing her eyes. After all, this…boy…didn’t fit with her mental image of the prince. For one thing, she’d never seen a scrawnier child. According to the history of their country, the prince had been cursed at the age of eleven, and the curse had reverted his age to that of an eight year old before they’d managed stop to it.  He looked eight, too. The only thing that seemed out of place were those intense, apple-green eyes that seemed to penetrate right through her. His messy, sandy-blond hair seemed to go in every direction, like he’d just rolled out of bed after sleeping on wet hair. With pale skin, baby fat, and short stature, he looked cute, the way that puppies were cute.

She hated cute.  

After that first initial look of surprise, he dove off the chair and went behind it, using it as shield. He did not, interestingly enough, reach for any weapon. (She would have in his place.) “Who are you?” he asked in a child-tenor. The voice belonged to a child. The tone did not.

She couldn’t do much with a child that looked this young. Still, she didn’t know what
else
she could do, either. One way or another, she’d have to follow through with her original plan. Decided, she folded her arms over her chest and locked her eyes with his.

“My name is Sevana. I am here to kidnap you.”

He blinked, whether at her directness or at her announcement, Sevana wasn’t sure. “Kidnap me. For ransom? Because I have to tell you, no one here would pay it.”

Hooo
. So he
did
know the political situation he was in. A sharp mind resided behind that child’s face. “You’re probably right,” she agreed bluntly.

They both paused, studying each other intently. Sevana didn’t know what he thought behind that inscrutable mask of his. She didn’t fancy standing here all day in a staring contest either.

“Not going for a weapon, princeling?”

“Are you worried I will?” he riposted steadily.

“If I had a complete stranger break into my room,
I
would certainly reach for one.” He hadn’t even tried for that enormous bell pull near the door, which would likely summon a swarm of guards. Or a maid. Someone, at least, that would help him. This just became curioser and curioser. Unless… “Unless they’ve deliberately left you unarmed?”

He stared at her for a moment longer, eyes locking with hers, and let out a slow breath. “I think you’ve already guessed what the situation is before you even entered this room.”

“You’re a prisoner here,” she said bluntly. “And you are unarmed and without protection of any sort, which is why you haven’t tried calling for help.”

His eyes closed in a fatalistic manner, fist clenching until his knuckles shone white. “Indeed. It is as you say. I am at your mercy, Miss Intruder. So, what do you intend to do?”

“I’m not going to ransom you. I’m here to take you away so that I can study you.”

“Study me,” he repeated neutrally, eyes searching her face.

“That’s right. I want to know what spell or potion was used on you so I can reverse it.”

“Are you a great sorceress?”

It was Sevana’s turn to blink at him in puzzlement. “No.”

“Magess?”

“No.”

“Witch? Shaman? Any kind of a magic user at all?”

“No, no and no.” Sevana smirked at his flabbergasted expression. “You were examined by every magic specialist in the five kingdoms at one point or another, weren’t you? They couldn’t find the answer, either.”

“Exactly.” The prince glared at her, his mouth not
quite
forming a pout. “So what makes you more qualified?”

“I’m an Artifactor,” she responded easily, heading for him. “If anyone would know the subtle nuances of a potion or spell, it would be me.”

“Artifactor,” he breathed. For the first time since she entered the room, he looked cautiously optimistic. “Wait. Could you perhaps be the prodigy Artifactor, Sevana Warran?”

She preened a little. Well, the kid knew her, did he? “The very one.”

The flash of optimistic hope passed, replaced by caution. He seemed to shrink a little behind his chair. “I fear I don’t have any power here. If it is some grand reward you seek, I cannot grant it to you.”

She snorted at the very idea. “What I want is this: when you become king, I want you to grant me an eternal Artifactor’s License.”

The prince blinked at her quite stupidly for a second. “That’s it? You just want a license?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’” she demanded in aggravation. “Do you realize
how much paperwork
is involved to get a license? And I have to do it yearly, to boot!”

His face contorted, as if he were struggling to not laugh out loud.

She shook a finger at him. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

He held up both hands in a pacifying gesture. “I would not dream of it. Very well, Artifactor, if you truly do break this curse on me, then I will grant you your wish.”

“Good.” She reached his chair and looked down at him. “Are you ready to be kidnapped yet? As your kidnapper, I am generous enough to let you put on shoes first.”

He hesitated for a long moment, staring up at her with calculating eyes. Then a lopsided smile tugged one corner of his mouth up. “At this point, I suppose any risk is better than none. I need more than just shoes.” His eyes darted around the room. “Give me two minutes.”

“Nothing bulky,” she cautioned him calmly as he emerged from behind his shield and started darting from one side of the room to another. “In fact, if it can’t fit in a bag, don’t bother. I can only carry so much.”

“No, it’s nothing heavy that I need,” he assured her in an absent fashion as he started rummaging through different chests lined against the wall. “It’s just, if I don’t bring some sort of proof of my identity with me, they won’t believe me later if you actually manage to restore me.”

A valid point. Hmmm. So he can think quickly in unexpected situations, eh? Good, good. He’ll need that ability to survive
. Especially if he was going to be coming and going through her workshop.

“Ah, found it!” He grabbed something from the bottom of a chest and slung it around his neck before stashing it inside his shirt. Without another word, he changed directions and put on some sturdy boots, a coat, and a hat with a low brim. On first inspection, the simple black shirt and pants that he wore looked ordinary enough if very well-tailored. It should last long enough for her to pick him up some more common clothing.

“Ready?” she asked impatiently.

He nodded to her. “Lead the way.”

The kidnapping went off without a hitch. Sevana brought the little prince through the grandfather clock without anyone even spotting them. After he stepped down onto the cave floor, she turned and shut the clock off again.

When she looked back at him, the prince was staring with wide eyes, nearly turning in on himself so that he could see in every direction. “Wait,” he said in a high-strung voice, “so
every
clock here connects to an outside clock?”

Curses
.
He figured it out that fast
? She grabbed his chin with her hand and turned him to face her directly. “This room does
not
exist,” she told him firmly.

He opened his mouth to object but paused, studying her expression cautiously. Then he gave a jerky nod. “As you wish.”

Too afraid of losing her help to argue, eh? Good. They’d get along well that way. Grabbing him by the arm, she towed him out the door. “Before I forget to ask, what’s your name?”

“You don’t know my name?!” he asked incredulously.

“Haven’t heard it in a decade. Everyone calls you the Child Prince.” She shot him a look over her shoulder. He looked stunned, as if she had just knocked all the air out of him. “Name?” she prompted, a little impatiently.

“Oh. It’s Bellomi Christoff Vogel braun Dragonmanovich.”

Sevana stopped in mid-stride and gave him an arch look. “Why under the heavens do you need five names?”