True Magics (30 page)

The Idealists cheered, while equally loud boos and catcalls came from the Traditionalists. Thomas let them go on for a bit, then said, “In accordance with the Academy rules, laws, and traditions, will you, Headmaster, bring our petition to the ruling council of the Academy, that it may be properly debated and, if accepted, brought into Academy law?”

William handed the sheaf of papers to Eileen, who held it out to the Headmaster. He smiled at her, though there was something sad in it and took the papers. He passed them to the Master of Laws. “Master Greyfields,” said the Headmaster. “Is the petition in good order?”

The Master of Laws peered closely at the pages a while, then nodded. “It is.”

“The Master of Laws has reviewed the petition,” said the Headmaster. “He has found it to be in good order—as we would expect—and in accordance with the laws and traditions of the Academy. We therefore decree that on the next meeting of the Council of Rules, the petition will be given serious consideration, witnesses will be called, and both sides shall be able to present their cases.”

“We did it!” yelled Mark. “We won!”

A cheer went up from the Idealists, followed immediately by boos and protests from the Traditionalists. One of the burghers yelled, “This decision cannot be allowed!”

“There has been no decision,” the Master of Rhetoric’s voice carried clearly over the noise. He stepped up beside the Headmaster. “These young men and this young woman have only won the right to have their petition duly considered by the Council of Rules. Nothing more.”

“It is a matter for the Council to decide,” said Headmaster, “which it will do at the end of the month!”

“And since that’s what we came to do,” said Henry, “we’re declaring victory!”

The Idealists went insane. The Traditionalists grumbled and snarled.

“This is not over!” yelled Keith from the front of the Traditionalists’ ranks.

“Indeed it is not,” said the Headmaster. “But it was properly presented, well said, and well argued.” He looked over the crowd. “No matter what comes of this, let it be noted that you all have behaved properly, and fought this matter as all matters at the Academy should be fought: with words and brains! The committee will meet at the end of the month, and both sides will be afforded the right to have their say.”

“We will attend the committee to present our case,” declared the burgher. “Girls will not come into the Academy!”

“Good luck with that!” called Henry. “Today, victory is ours!”

Shouts of victory came from two hundred throats. The Idealists jumped up and down and hugged each other in glee.

“Now disperse,” said the Headmaster. “And in the spirit of fraternity, let there be no recriminations among you for the events of today!”

“To the Broken Quill!” shouted Henry. “Let the celebrations begin!”

The Traditionalists grumbled and mumbled and rallied around four or five of the burghers and Keith. Thomas and Eileen, hand in hand, practically leapt from the porch and led the cheering Idealists across the grounds. Thomas kept an eye out for Cormac, Anthony and Ethan, but they seemed to have vanished.

“We have to tell George!” Eileen shouted over the din.

“You’ll never escape!” said Henry. “I’ll send someone!”

They flowed out the gate and down the street. Henry went into a stable on their way and hired one of the boys to run the news to George. As the students went down the streets some dropped out and came back pulling girls behind them. The whole group, still singing and laughing, descended on the Broken Quill. Soon, the pub was even louder than it had been during Festival. Eileen, with Thomas at her side, did the rounds of the room, taking in congratulations and thanking everyone.

George came in, bringing Linda Gatron with him. Eileen spotted her brother and pushed and pleaded her way across the room to throw herself into his arms. George spun her around and squeezed her until she squeaked. “You won!”

“We won!” said Eileen. “Everyone was wonderful!”

Henry brought drinks for George and Linda before dashing back into the crowd. The Master Smith’s daughter looked shocked at the happy mayhem in the room but waded into the throng beside George. Soon, she was being chatted up by a small group of students while George loomed behind her. Tables were pushed out of the way and a dozen of the students pulled out instruments. Music struck up and everyone who had a partner went out on the floor. Eileen danced with Thomas and every boy in the Student Company. Linda danced with George, then Thomas and Henry. Students and their girls were moving constantly on and off the dance floor, while the musicians did their best to be heard above the joyous racket.

When the midnight bell rang everyone spilled into the streets. Some went home, some went to friends’ houses to continue the celebration. George and Linda said their goodnights and went back to the Street of Smiths, arm-in-arm. Thomas offered him an escort home, but George refused.

“Not tonight,” said George, smiling at his sister. “It’s Eileen’s night. Let her celebrate it.”

“But…”

George held up his stick. “I’ll be fine, Thomas. We’ll stay on the main streets. You take care of my sister.”

“We’ll try to have her home before dawn,” said Henry.

“Before dawn?” Linda looked at once thrilled and appalled. “Eileen! What would your parents say?”

“They’re not here,” said George. “And I trust that Thomas will bring her back home safe and sound.”

“Always,” said Thomas. He smiled at Eileen. “Seems only fair, since she did the same for me.”

Eileen smiled back and leaned against him.

“Then good night,” said George. “I will see you in the morning.”

Thomas watched George and Linda go until they were out of sight.

“Don’t worry about them,” said Henry. “They couldn’t get George with a block and tackle. Now come. The party is at Mark’s house.”

For another two hours, they celebrated. Mark played mandolin, and Nicholas was a fair guitarist. At the end of the second hour, Thomas and Eileen excused themselves. Henry, who was in the midst of arguing philosophy with Nicholas, offered to go with them.

“No need,” said Thomas. “I’ll stay at the smithy tonight. I’m sure George won’t mind if I sleep in the kitchen.”

“Just be sure it’s in the kitchen,” teased Mark.

“It will be,” declared William. “Otherwise George will feed him to the forge!”

“George wouldn’t leave enough of him to feed to the forge,” said Evan.

Eileen made a rude gesture and led Thomas out into the night. As soon as they were out of sight of the building, she stopped him and leaned in close for a long, deep kiss. When they finally broke apart, she took his hand. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I felt this happy.”

“Me either,” said Thomas. “Everything is feeling right, for a change.”

“I don’t want to go home,” said Eileen.

“All right,” said Thomas. “Did you want to go back to the party?”

“No.”

“Then where?”

Eileen looked down at her boots When she looked back into Thomas’s eyes, she was smiling. “Your apartment?”

It took Thomas’s slightly drunk brain a while to comprehend that. “If you like. Yes.” His own smile grew wider and wider, no matter how he tried to control it. “Definitely, yes.”

The walk to his apartment took nearly twice as long as it should have, as they stopped to kiss a dozen times on the way. When they finally slipped inside the door Eileen kissed him hard on the mouth and led him to the couch before the fireplace.

“Let me get the fire started,” said Thomas. He stacked the tinder and set the logs in on top. He stepped back and stared until the fire leapt into life all at once.

Eileen’s eyebrows went up. “Show off.”

“Aye.” Thomas laughed. “Tonight, everything is right.”

“It is,” said Eileen. “Come here.”

It was the last bell of the night when they untangled themselves from the blankets on the couch. Eileen, wearing only her drawers, stretched and yawned. “That was very, very nice,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Thomas.

Thomas smiled back, as he watched her slim body move in the yellow light of the fire. “It was indeed.” Thomas picked her shift off the floor and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m just surprised Henry didn’t walk in on us.”

“Knowing Henry, he’s probably sleeping on Mark’s floor,” said Eileen. She kissed his bare chest and took the shift, pulling it on over her head. She found her skirt on the floor. “My shirt and bodice?”

“Behind the couch,” said Thomas, looking for his breeches. He found them and pulled them on over his braies, then looked around for his shirt. “We’ll get you home before dawn,” he said. “But not by much.”

“By just enough,” said Eileen, kissing him again.

It was late enough that even the footpads that lurked in the alleys had mostly sought out their beds. The walk was cold, but not as bad as it had been the night before. Thomas wondered if the weather was finally going to get warmer, or if it just meant they’d have rain instead of snow the next day.

The Street of Smiths was completely dark when they arrived.

“Not even a candle in the window,” said Thomas.

“We are very late,” whispered Eileen. “He’s probably in bed fast asleep.”

Thomas yawned. “I can’t blame him.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the doors of the forge.

“What’s that?” Eileen asked, pointing to a piece of paper, nailed up on the door.

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. He squinted at it.

“Can you read it?”

“Too dark,” said Thomas taking the piece of paper from the door. “Let’s get inside.”

Eileen fumbled with her key and opened the door. The two slipped inside, and Eileen closed the door behind them. Thomas waited until the door was shut tight, then raised a hand and willed a little ball of light into existence. Together they looked at the paper.

“Oh, by the Four,” Eileen breathed.

It was in Henry’s handwriting:

Attack. Michael’s apartment. Come at once.

-H.

17

Nicholas, John, Robert, and Wilson were standing in the street outside Michael’s apartment. They carried torches and rapiers in their hands and were pacing back and forth, anger radiating from them like heat from a stove. Thomas and Eileen, who had run all the way from the forge, skidded to a stop on the wet, icy cobbles, gasping for air.

“What happened?” Thomas demanded, between breaths. “Where’s Henry? Where’s George?”

“Inside!” said John. “Hurry!”

Thomas tried to swallow the fear that threatened to block his throat. He mounted the stairs to Michael’s place two at a time. Philip, William and Mark were on the balcony, swords in hand and ready to use them.

“About time!” snapped Philip. “James is dying!”

Thomas pushed past him without a word. Marcus stood on the other side of the door, his sword in hand. The room stank of blood and sweat. James was sitting on the floor in a pool of dark red. His legs, wrapped in bandages and splinted, were splayed out in front of him. His chest and stomach were bandaged as well, but the cloth was already wet and red through in three different places. George was sitting behind him, holding him upright. Henry knelt at his side, speaking softly. Kevin held a pair of bloodied cloths against James’ stomach and Bruce held another one against his chest.

“The healer’s been and gone,” said Henry, the words coming out fast and angry. “He wasn’t going to bother straightening James’ legs, until I told him I’d kill him if he didn’t.” James body convulsed in pain, and he gasped in air. “He’s dying, Thomas. Hurry up.”

He’s lucky he’s not dead already.
Thomas knelt in front of James, and pulled the bandage off his chest. Blood spurted out. Thomas pressed his hands to the wound and began chanting. It took a long moment before the magic started flowing. Then bright white light, invisible to everyone but Thomas, flowed from Thomas’s hand into other man’s body. James cried out in pain as his body began knitting itself back together. The blood that was pouring from James’ body slowed. Thomas could feel himself getting light-headed, and the room began to swim in and out of focus.

Henry pushed Thomas away, breaking his connection with James. The magic died at once, and Thomas collapsed back onto the bloody floor.

“Don’t you pass out!” said Henry. “We may need you!”

Thomas struggled to sit up. “Is he all right?”

“No, he’s not,” growled James between gritted teeth. “Gods, it hurts!”

Thomas forced himself to concentrate until the room came into focus. James was still bleeding, but his injuries were now only cut skin and muscle, not gaping holes in his body. “Bandage him back up,” said Thomas. “What happened?”

“Where have you been?” demanded Henry. “We needed you an hour ago.”

“At the apartment,” said Thomas. “What happened?”

“The apartment?” George rumbled. “What were you two doing at the…”

“WHAT HAPPENED?”
yelled Thomas. The room went black on him for a moment and he nearly fell over. Eileen grabbed him and pulled him back upright.