The Child Prince (The Artifactor) (56 page)

Bellomi sat in the corner of the roof, hunkered down in the shadows of the eaves, and watched with intense focus. He’d followed Goethals here, which didn’t seem strange at this time of the night, as anyone sensible would be heading for bed. But the nobility of Windamere didn’t normally subscribe to common sense. They rose around noon, had leisurely breakfasts/luncheons, went about idle pursuits, and then attended elaborate dinners late in the evening. For a nobleman, Goethals should still be in the height of the day, not even thinking of climbing into his bed until the wee hours of the morning.

The Goethals house was just as extravagant as the other Councilmen’s homes. Four stories tall, spreading out over a half city block, with inner courtyards and carefully cultivated gardens. But no signs of an elaborate dinner being prepared, or of parties past. So, extravagant and yet not. Wealthy, but not fixated on demonstrating the wealth to his peers.

Goethals stepped out of the carriage and into the main stable yard, heading for a side entrance. Two lamps had been thoughtfully lit in the courtyard to light the man’s path, so Bellomi had a good view of him. The bodyguard and footman both accompanied their master as he headed indoors.

The bodyguard paused, turning his head slightly to the left, as if sensing something. Uh-oh. Had Bellomi been too careless? He’d assumed himself safely out of sight here on the neighboring house’s roof, but the bodyguard below might be better than the average man. It might behoove him to take himself off now. He likely needed to get back to the palace anyway.

Let’s see, if he eased his way to the right and caught up with the slant of the roof there—

Sheer instinct sent him flat to the roof, almost prostrating himself so that his cheek pressed hard into the rough gravel and tar. Even as he moved, something small and fast whizzed past his cheek, grazing him and leaving a stinging scratch behind. He puffed out a soft gasp of surprise. Now where had that come from?!

“Tunstall! What are you shooting at?”

“There’s someone up on the roof, my lord.” The man’s voice was deep, gravelly, and unnaturally calm as he responded.

“What?!” Goethals exclaimed. “An assassin?”

“Perhaps, my lord, but I don’t believe so. I don’t feel any killing intent. Could be a thief.”

I’m not either,
Bellomi couldn’t help but think, finding this situation oddly amusing. Then he thought of what Baby’s reaction would be later when he found out that Bellomi had been spotted by his own prey. It became abruptly un-amusing at that point.

“Can you catch him?” Goethals asked from below, sounding calculating.

Oh, now that would just put the sugar on the cake, it would. To be chased across the city’s skyline by a bodyguard…aish. It made his head hurt. No, he better nip this situation in the bud before it grew even more out of hand.

After everything he’d seen the past several weeks, and his own investigations into this man’s character, he didn’t hesitate and made a snap decision. “My Lord Goethals,” he called out in a loud voice. “Might I have a word with you?”

Abrupt silence descended in the courtyard below.

“Who are you?” Goethals called back suspiciously.

“I would prefer to do introductions on the ground, if I could. It’s a trifle awkward to do so from the shadows, you understand.” Bellomi didn’t know if the man would agree to letting a complete stranger who had been stalking him in the main courtyard or not. But he certainly knew how his father and Axelrad would respond about this later. He resigned himself on hearing the inevitable lecture of recklessness.

“Are you armed?” the bodyguard asked next.

“Of course. In these tumultuous times, only a foolish man would not be. But I swear upon the name of our dead Queen that I mean no harm on your household.”

“Come down, then,” Goethals encouraged, voice still heavily laden with suspicion. “My men shall not attack you until you give them provocation to do so.”

Good enough. He’d had no intention of actually confronting either Goethals or Clasessens when he’d set out tonight, but now that the opportunity had arisen (so to speak) he’d be a fool to pass it up. Cautiously rising back to his feet, he took a peek over the edge of the roof. They weren’t aiming anything up at him, thankfully, and were waiting with impatience. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went.

He swung himself over the short iron railing, using the decorative stone along the side of the building as footholds as he climbed down. The stone fence of the two townhouses abutted against each other so closely that mere inches separated them. Bellomi didn’t do anything more than walk along the fence of the house he’d been on to the adjoining stone wall of Goethals’ estate. When there, he stepped off the wall and leapt the last seven feet to the ground, lightly landing so that his knees bent and absorbed the impact.

Goethals waited as he walked toward him, stepping out of the shadowy corner of the gardens and into the mellow lamplight near the doors. The bodyguard put himself a half-step in front of his master, looking at him warily, one hand on something inside of his coat. Just what had he used to shoot at Bellomi, anyway? He didn’t see a bow on the man. Something like a slingshot?

Bellomi stopped five feet away, close enough for the light to cover him and for both men to be able to properly see each other, but far enough to pose no immediate threat.

Goethals stared at him with a furrowed, thoughtful look. “I believe I know you,” he said slowly.

“It’s been ten years since we last saw each other, Lord Goethals.” With a crooked smile, he swept the man a half-bow. “I’m Bellomi Dragonmanovich.”

For a split second, no one in the courtyard believed him. Then Goethals’s eyes flared wide and he let out a harsh, wordless exclamation, reaching out toward Bellomi with a shaking hand. “Y-your Highness!”

That expression of outright relief and joy on Goethals’ face put to bed any lingering doubts he had about the man. Bellomi relaxed into a sincere smile. “Goethals. It’s been some time but I am glad to see that in my and my father’s absence, you tried to take care of my people.”

Goethals shook his head, a tear running down his cheek. “Your Highness, I do not deserve such words. But your father. If you are free, then is his Majesty also?”

“Yes.” Bellomi shrugged and admitted frankly, “I was the one that kidnapped him.”

The man choked, almost laughing, but mostly relieved. He put a hand to his heart and let out a long breath. “Your Highness, I am incredibly happy to hear that. But I must meet with him. There are things that I must tell him, tell you both.”

Speaking with Goethals directly would certainly be more informative than listening in on council meetings. Bellomi didn’t see a problem with this. “I’m inclined to agree. However, I do not believe we should do it here. I know of a more secure location that we should move to. Do you have a magic post?” Most noblemen had one installed within their homes.

“I do, Your Highness.” Goethals perked up. “Can we contact the king that way?”

“No, but close enough.” Now how to word the message so that Sevana would agree to let yet another stranger inside of her mountain….

~ ~ ~

Sevana spread the word at every meeting—if anyone could remember anything suspicious from ten years ago, report it to her or Kip. She didn’t really hold much hope out for that, but she never underestimated the network of servants. People noticed and retained the oddest things, and if their memory had been sufficiently jogged, they would remember it and pass it on.

She heaved a sigh and looked around her. The meeting this time had been set up in the nearby woods of Sanat, near the outskirts of Klose. She felt distinctly uneasy being here, just because of Klose’s nearness to Lockbright palace. Granted, it would take a good half a day or more for anyone to reach them from the palace, but still…

Bel stood atop a fallen tree trunk so that everyone could see him, although in the dimming light, that became more challenging. People had set up lamps and torches all around the small clearing so people had more light to see by, but the denseness of the forest around them swallowed the light. Sevana cocked an ear toward the forest, but aside from some very noisy tree frogs and the burbling of a nearby stream, she didn’t hear anything. She rubbed her arms absently, feeling the chill as the night settled in. They were well into fall now, with the colored leaves falling and the air distinctly nippy. Enough so that she wished she’d grabbed a warm cloak instead of just the jacket.

She and Sarsen stood behind Bel, as usual, partially as a guard just in case things went wrong, but also so they could watch the crowd better. Bel would often ask them for their impressions of people’s reactions afterwards. While he spoke, he found it difficult to gauge his listener’s reactions at the same time.

After listening to the same speech seven times in a row, she paid absolutely no attention to what he said. Sarsen put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in close to her ear to murmur, “We might want to cut this short tonight. I don’t like being so close to the palace.”

“You and me both,” she muttered back. “He’s almost done, though.”

Sarsen gave a judicious look at the crowd, who were starting to fire questions at Bel, mostly about his future plans. “I know this is working, after all he’s gaining support, but word’s spreading too fast about his reappearance.”

Sevana gave a sour grunt. Goethals had reported this morning that the Council had become aware of Bel’s and Aren’s secret meetings all over the country. They still didn’t know where they were based or how they were managing to get all over the country so quickly. Fortunately. But sooner or later, someone would figure it out. Sevana personally hoped for
later,
as sooner would give them way too many problems to deal with. Still, the fact that the Council knew what they were doing made everyone nervous. That meant that their element of surprise had been snatched away.

Bel finally stepped down from the trunk, stepping forward and shaking people’s hands, speaking with them individually. Sevana stepped around, heading for him, fully intending to drag him away by the elbow if she needed to. But halfway there, he turned to face her and waved her forward. “Sevana. This woman needs to speak to you. She has some information for you.”

For her? Sevana looked at the woman he gestured to, taking her in with a quick glance. A portly matron, she looked to be in her late forties or so, hair drawn back in a tidy bun, dark dress neat as a pin. She glanced uncertainly from prince to Artifactor.

“Artifactor Warran has been tasked by the king to find the man that cursed us,” Bel said to the matron, smile kind. “It’s best you tell everything to her, as she knows more than I do about the investigation at this point. Sevana, this is Holly Springer.”

Sevana gave the woman a nod of greeting and a professional smile. “Mistress Springer. Come aside so I can hear you properly.” The crowd around Bel had enough volume to wake up a dead man.

The matron lifted her chin a little, determined, and said, “Of course. Godspeed, Your Highness,” she said to Bel with a slightly dazzled smile. “We’re all with you.”

“Thank you,” he responded charmingly. (Now, when and where had he learned to smile like that? Kip’s lessons aside, he didn’t know how to do that before.)

Sevana waited, not entirely patiently, for the matron to tear herself away and come to speak with her and Sarsen. Fortunately, the woman’s good sense returned when she left the prince’s side and she spoke rationally as she said, “I heard that you were looking for odd happenings and such from ten years back. Well, I can keep you here all year with tales like that, but thing is, this week it happened again.”

“What did?” Sarsen asked patiently.

“My husband and I run an inn,” the woman started, warming up to her story. “We’re on the outskirts of Lockbright, right on the edge of the poorer section of town, although that wasn’t always so. But we’ve got a good crowd that comes in, for the most part.”

Sevana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Would this woman just get to the point already?

“But nigh on ten years ago, a woman comes in that just don’t belong,” Holly continued. She almost lowered her voice, as if passing on good gossip. “We get that from time to time, for the rooms upstairs, y’know. But this time, the woman that came in had money to her. Oh, she dressed plain enough, but it was all of good cut and quality. And she didn’t stay long, not more than five minutes. She went into a back room with a weasel of a man that I know is no good, and then another man that gave me chills went into the same room. In minutes, the woman came back out again, went straight to her coach and—” Holly snapped her fingers “—gone, just like that. I barely could turn my head before the other two men were gone too. Strange business, I tell you.”

Sevana glanced at Sarsen, and the man gave her speaking look. That certainly did sound like an underhanded deal being brokered.

“And this week, it happened again,” Holly exclaimed. “If it weren’t strange enough to happen the first time! Same woman, same two men. But this time, I’d heard about you looking for the man who’d cursed our king and prince, and I didn’t leave them alone in that room. I snuck into the one next door, so I could hear. They kept their voices low at first, so I didn’t catch much, but then the woman started yelling and cursing.”

“What did she say?” Sarsen pressed. “Do you remember?”

“Something about her offering good money, and him not doing the job properly the first time.” Holly spread her hands helplessly. “She could swear like a sailor, that one, and that’s mostly what she did. Not a lot of what she said made much sense. But the man stormed out first this time, and the little weasel one followed real quick-like. I came out of the room quick, too, wanting to follow her. She kept her hood up, like last time, but as I came out the door into the back stable yard, I saw her climb into the coach.”

“Was there a crest on the coach?” Sevana asked, holding her breath.

“She was too careful for that,” Holly responded, eyes crinkled in amusement. “But she’s not so clever as she thinks, that one. Oh, she rode in a plain carriage and wore plain clothes, but she still had her man drive her. And I recognized him, I did. He’s Chelli Barton’s son, who works for the Verlinden’s.”