The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (30 page)

“You were cursed before I was.” Bellomi shrugged, a motion that his father probably couldn’t see. Strangely, it felt easier to talk to the man without them able to properly see each other. “The curse got stronger over time, certainly, but it wasn’t weak at any point. Sevana said you were hit about a month or so before me. Or at least, that’s what it looks like to her.”

“And Pierpoint didn’t see it?”

“Apparently not. But Sevana didn’t seem to find that strange, either. Something about the spell not being obviously malicious and segueing itself into the magical protection you were under.” He hadn’t quite followed her explanation, truthfully. “My curse wasn’t malicious either in nature. Actually, it’s quite common and known as a benign spell. It was just malicious in intent.”

“And more obvious, so it would gather more attention than mine,” Aren finished wearily. “Bellomi, I’m glad that you have taken steps to free both of us from this situation. And I realize, too, that you’re now an adult in years despite your appearance.”

He’d be one of the few that did, then. Even Morgan and Sevana, who knew full well his history, didn’t treat him as an adult most of the time. But Bellomi had a feeling his father was leading up to something, so he bit his lip and waited.

“But why are you really pushing so hard to get free of this curse quickly?”

“The country is in…very poor condition.” Even saying that felt like a ridiculous understatement. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and searched for a way to properly explain this. “I’m still learning just how bad of a situation. The laws of the land themselves have been changed to the point that the Council has all of the power and they are using that power to line their pockets as deeply as they can. Morgan and I have been traveling all around the country—”

Aren held up a hand. “Wait, who is this Morgan?”

“Ah,” right, he wouldn’t know, “it’s Sevana’s business partner. He handles the marketing of her products. He’s half information broker, really.”

“I see. Go on.”

“As I was saying, we’ve been traveling all over the country and gathering up information as we went. I’ve been doing it partially to improve my skills at interacting with people, partially to learn my country better, but mostly because it’s taking considerable work to figure out just how badly the Council has taken advantage of our absence.”

The king didn’t seem to know how to react to this. He mulled it over for a taut moment before venturing, “How bad, exactly?”

Bellomi somehow managed to answer this question levelly. “The law that sent Sevana to our rescue gives the Council the authority to govern Windamere in our absence or in case of our incapacitation.”

Aren choked, the sound mixed in with a guttural moan of pain. “Son, tell me you’re exaggerating!”

“I wish I were. You ask why I’m rushing and pushing all of us so hard? It’s because of that law. The state Windamere is in now is bad enough, but can you imagine how much more damage they can do now that they have carte blanch on any law they can think to pass? Neither of us are even in the palace right now! There’s no one left to stop them.”

“How bad is it? Give me precise details,” Aren insisted.

“Let start with taxes. There are three now in effect—”

“THREE?!”

He didn’t let his father interrupt him and kept speaking. “—the royal tax, of course, but the royal tax no longer pays for anything city-related. It’s used solely for the government. I’m still trying to pin down where all that money is going
to
. But then there’s the city tax, which each city manages and uses for its upkeep and expenses. The council recently added a third, a business tax, which takes five percent of whatever profit or goods that a businessman has at the end of the month.”

Aren’s hands knotted into the bottom of his coat. “H-how much does it add up to?” he asked hoarsely, tone saying a part of him didn’t want to even know the answer.

“It varies because each city tax is different.” Bellomi had a hard time explaining all of this. It angered him every time he remembered it and the damage it was doing even now. “But it’s more or less half of a man’s income.”

Aren stood up so quickly his chair fell and skidded backwards. “HALF?!”

“That was more or less my reaction.” Bellomi shook his head, tamping down the urge to go after the Council with a sword in hand. “Take a seat, Father, and calm down. It gets worse.”

“How can it possibly get worse?” Aren spluttered, absently righting his chair and dropping back into it. “First you tell me that the Council has practically wrested the right of rule away from our family and now you tell me that they’re robbing our citizens hand over fist? What more are they doing?”

“They’ve dismissed the country’s military and most of its navy.” Bellomi paused and gave his father a second to process this. By the way Aren’s jaw dropped, he needed more than a second. “I don’t know why. I’m still investigating that. But I think it was for monetary reasons. It’s cheaper this way and they have less soldiers to pay for.”

“But who’s protecting the country in their stead?” Aren stared at his son with a ghoulish expression, as if he were in a waking nightmare. “The soldiers are there to patrol the main highways, help maintain peace in a city, not just for times of war.”

“The personal militia of the Council is doing that work now.” Bellomi rubbed a hand over his face. This is not what he envisioned for a heartfelt reunion talk with his father. “I suspect it’s a power play, as the personal militia are more loyal to the Council, and thereby can keep Windamere under tighter control. But as I said, I haven’t been able to find proof of that.” Not yet, anyway.

Aren raised both hands to shield his eyes, blocking what Bellomi could see of his expression in this poor lighting. “What else?”

“Oh, I’ve heard rumors of other things, some of them more outlandish than others. I heard of one rumor particularly where a councilman is using his funds to pay for his own brothel, named Sunrise House. But I don’t wish to trot it all out until I can prove it.” He’d probably dumped enough on his father at this moment anyway. “I’ll investigate more the next time that Morgan and I have a lesson.”

“A lesson?” That brought Aren’s head back up, hands falling to his lap. “What sort of lessons?”

“You name it, the man’s been teaching it to me.” Bellomi started ticking things off on his fingers. “Horseback riding, navigating a city, haggling, conversational skills, trade, economics, politics, and things of that ilk.”

“You sound as if you…enjoy them?” Aren ended on a questioning note.

“Oh yes, always.” Bellomi reflexively grinned at the memory of some of his more recent lessons. “Morgan’s an interesting man so it’d be entertaining no matter what we did, but what he teaches me is truly valuable as well. We don’t have lessons often, just whenever we both have a free day. It usually averages to about once a week.”

“Then, you weren’t in jest earlier, when you said you were learning the skills that a prince needed.”

“Mercy, no!” Bellomi shook his head, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “I should regale you with some of the tales, when we both are in the mood for them. No, between Morgan, Sevana, and Baby, I’m doing nothing but training.”

“I am…relieved to hear it.”

“Even if you question the oddness of my teachers?” Bellomi shrugged, chuckling at his father’s sour nod. “They might be odd, but they know more of the world than either one of us, I think.”

“It’s certainly better than you just waiting idly by as the Artifactor works on breaking your curse,” Aren agreed. His smile slowly fell away as he whispered, “You paint a dark picture.”

He wished he could do otherwise, but…. “We have a steady ray of hope. There are a lot of good people in this country that are anxious to help us right the wrongs. I believe that with their help and enough tenacity, we can overthrow the Council and regain our home.” A trifle wryly he added, “I’d just rather do sooner instead of later. Less of a mess to clean up that way.”

“I rather see your point.” Aren rubbed a weary hand over his face. “And share it.”

“Don’t worry about it tonight,” Bellomi advised, wondering if he could follow his own advice. “It’s not like we can do anything about it right now anyway. Tomorrow we can properly form a strategy as we travel back.”

“That is perhaps for the best.” He rubbed at is face again, motion slow and somewhat jerky. “My mind still feels muddled. And it’s strange, how tired I feel. But at the same time, I feel restless.”

Yes, he felt exactly the same. “Perhaps we can stay and talk a while longer. We can always sleep on the cloud skimmer on the way back, after all.”

A smile could be heard in Aren’s voice. “Yes, that’s true. Then tell me, son. Where on earth did you get sword training from? It certainly couldn’t have been in the palace.”

“Well, you see these twin swords on my back? They’re actually….”

They returned to Big without any fanfare and spent a day or so just recovering from the long trip. But Bellomi couldn’t remain inside for long, so he went down to the village the next day, putting into motion a personal plan of his. It had taken considerable charm and using quite a few of Morgan’s tricks, but Bellomi had managed to talk Hana into having lunch with him the next day. As he did
not
want interference from anyone else (no matter how well-meaning), he decided on a picnic. The weather wasn’t quite right for it, being clear but a trifle hot, but he’d found a way around the problem via one of Sevana’s cooling charms.

Which he would, of course, properly apologize for ‘borrowing’ later.

Late the next morning he went straight for the village gates, an overly large picnic basket strapped to his back. Of course with the wicker basket on his back, he’d needed to carry his swords differently, so he’d simply slung the sheaths over one shoulder, letting them hang at his side. It probably made for an odd picture (at least judging from the reactions he got from the people he passed on the road, it did) but he wanted his hands free.

And there she stood, just outside the main gate. Bellomi rarely saw her out of the sensible grey dress she wore to work, but she wore something very different today. A dark blue dress that complemented her very well, although in concession to the summer heat, her sleeves were short and her hair still up in a bun. But she’d obviously dressed up a little for this date of theirs, and it made him unreasonably happy to see it.

He’d taken care with his own appearance that morning, wearing something he hoped wasn’t too formal looking, but giving him a more mature appearance. He looked roughly fourteen now, but he hoped the smartly cut dark green vest, black trousers and polished half-boots made him appear older. He lifted a hand and waved at her, which she returned with one of those sunny smiles he so loved to see.

When he was close enough to be in earshot, she said, “That is quite the basket on your back.”

“I thought it would be fun to have a picnic,” he responded. Seeing her quick, concerned glance at the sky, he added quickly, “Don’t worry, I brought preventive measures against the heat.”

She looked at him slightly sideways, eyes narrowed in beginning suspicion. “And those preventive measures are…?”

“Cooling charms, of course.”

For some reason, her suspicions deepened. “And does Sevana know that you have those cooling charms?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Bellomi!” even as she scolded him, she laughed.

“What? I’m following her own advice.” With a deliberately nonchalant shrug, he quoted, “It’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”

The blonde shook her head in resignation. “I’ve heard Sevana say that several times. It’s about time she was forced to eat her own words.”

Should he take this as tacit approval? Deciding to move things along (before the traffic coming in and out of the gate really slowed down to ogle them), he extended a hand. “Shall we go?”

“Go where?” she asked, genuinely unsure. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

“Two, actually. I’ll let you choose which one. I thought either a pretty spot near the river, or perhaps up near Nickerchen Ruins.”

“Hmmm.” She raised a hand to her chin and deliberated for a moment. “I think the river. I’m not sure if we have the time to walk to Nickerchen today or not.”

“An excellent point.” He offered his arm again, and this time she took it, sliding her hand in to rest along his elbow. He had to bite back a smirk of victory as they started off toward the river. Bellomi had scouted out potential spots yesterday with Baby, so he knew exactly where to go, which freed up his mind enough to carry on a conversation. “I want to reassure you that I didn’t cook a single thing that’s in this basket.”

Hana bit her bottom lip in an open attempt to keep from laughing. Eyes dancing, she asked, “Are you such a terrible cook?”

“Perfectly awful,” he admitted frankly. “I do it as a matter of survival.”

“How like a man.” Shaking her head she asked rhetorically, “Is Sevana the only one that can cook in that mountain?”

“Pretty much.” Although, Bellomi gave himself points for at least trying. Morgan didn’t even do that.

“So who did do the cooking?”