True Magics (38 page)

They bought themselves small meat pies and fruit tarts, and stepped back out into the night. “Now all we need is a bottle of wine and some warm weather and everything will be wonderful,” said Henry. “I don’t suppose you brought either?”

“Sorry,” said Thomas. “There’s a spot.”

They found an alleyway that sheltered them from the worst of the wind. The meat pies were delicious and warmed them up for a time. The fruit pastries were exceptionally good. As they watched, the line at the store grew smaller and eventually petered out to nothing.

“What exactly are we doing here?” asked Henry.

“Waiting for everyone who doesn’t live there to go home,” said Thomas. “The fewer people who see us with Robert, the better for him.”

Another hour passed, and the bakery disgorged its workers. Thomas counted eight men and women saying good-bye and heading on their way. Through the window, Thomas could see another woman walking through the bakery, sweeping the floor and wiping counters.

“Now, I think,” said Thomas, and led the way back to the bakery. The door was still unlocked. Thomas knocked and stepped inside.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” said the woman, eying their weapons. “We’re closed for the day.”

“We’re here to speak with Robert Smithson,” said Thomas. “Is he in?”

“He’s cleaning up downstairs,” said the woman. “What would you be wanting him for?”

“Business,” said Henry. “I am Lord Henry Antonius, Ambassador of the Duke of Frostmire, and I am looking to bespeak pastries for a party. Robert comes highly recommended and, having just tasted your wares, I have found the recommendations to be true. Would he be willing to speak with us?”

“Of course,” said the woman. “I’m Hazel Smithson, his wife.”

“A pleasure, Hazel,” said Henry. “Now, if you would be so good as to send him up?”

The woman curtsied and went down the steps. A moment later Robert came, wiping his hands and trying to look impressive. His face fell when he saw Thomas. Robert glanced behind him to see that his wife had not followed, then hissed at Thomas, “What do you want here?”

“I wanted to give you something,” said Thomas.

Robert frowned and huffed out his cheeks. “You should not be here!”

Thomas ignored him. “Close your eyes. Envision a small ball of light. Whatever colour you like. Imagine it floating just above your hand. When you can see it clearly, hold out your hand, call it there, and open your eyes.”

Robert frowned even more, but Thomas could see his curiosity rising. “Why…” Robert looked over his shoulder again. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Did you show the others the candle?” asked Thomas.

“I can’t tell you that!” Robert looked furious. “They said I can’t. You’re not one of us. You can’t know what happens at our meetings.”

I bet that means yes.
“Try this one, and once you have it working, share it with the others.”

“Why… why are you telling me this?”

Thomas smiled. “I have to tell someone. Might as well tell someone who can make it work.”

Robert shook his head. “They still won’t trust you.”

“I’m not asking them to,” said Thomas. “Good-night, Robert.”

Thomas led Henry out of the bakery and back to the alley. They wrapped their cloaks tight around them and waited. The hours crept. One by one the lights from the windows of the bakery went down, until the place was completely dark.

Henry sighed. “Next time, I’m bringing my flask.”

“We watch until midnight,” said Thomas. “And I promise to make the tea when we get home.”

“Only if there’s whiskey in it,” said Henry.

“There will be,” promised Thomas. “And I’ll build up the fire to drink it by.”

They waited, shivering, until the midnight bell rang, but Robert didn’t leave the house.

***

The next morning was slightly warmer, as if spring was trying to peek out from behind winter’s gloom. The sun was out and some of the water in the streets was beginning to dry up when Thomas reached the fencing studio.

“Good morning, Thomas,” said Sir Walter. “How are you?”

“Worried,” said Thomas. “Is the king planning a war with the Church?”

Sir Walter blinked once, but showed no other reaction. “What makes you think that?”

“The preachers,” said Thomas. “The Academy suddenly out in the streets. Eileen being allowed to attend the Academy even though King Darren III forbade it. The king wanting magicians. Me not being in jail.”

Sir Walter nodded. “Very good, Thomas.”

“Why?” Thomas demanded. “Why is he going to war? Is the magic that important?”

“No,” said Sir Walter. “The Church is trying to bully him into sending half his troops and most of his treasury to Tali and Beudlea to help the Church put down the tribes there who are resisting the High Father’s Church.”

“Oh.” Thomas thought about this. “So this is about money?”

“Not just,” said Sir Walter. “The kings of Criethe have chafed under the rule of the Church since King Darren III. With you around, this seemed like the ideal time to break free.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t think I have enough power to stop the war.”

Sir Walter laughed. “Not in the slightest. You and all the magicians in Hawksmouth couldn’t stop the Church’s cavalry for more than a moment. No, the king is using you to test the Church’s resolve, and to buy time to get his men into place.”

“Oh,” said Thomas. “Then why does he want the magicians?”

“Because they’re his citizens,” said Sir Walter. “Because the Church wants to claim control over them and the king doesn’t want to let that happen. And in case of a war, they’re better where we can keep them safe.”

Sir Walter’s expression hadn’t changed at all as he’d said the words, nor had his tone.
So why don’t I believe him?
Thomas wondered.
What does he really want them for?

“Now,” said Sir Walter. “Swords today.”

Thomas told Henry and Eileen what Sir Walter had said, and the three were very sombre by the time they reached the market square. Graham and the preacher were both on crates today, trading barbs. There were six armed students around Graham, glaring at the four Church guards in front of the preacher. The preacher had more people on his side, but Graham was a very good speaker and much louder.

“Servants of the Banished!” the priest was saying. “You have given your souls to the Banished and you will suffer horribly for it!”

“Another lie!” Graham’s voice cut through the other man’s words. “We serve the king!”

“You serve a corrupt king, who favours the opinions of those who worship evil to those who spent their lives serving The High Father!”

“And here we have the lie again!” said Graham. “You say there are Banished worshippers and witches, but you will not say who they are! You will not name names, because you have none!”

“I’m beginning to think he could have won the debate,” said Henry.

“Me, too,” said Thomas.
So why didn’t he?

“Classes,” reminded Eileen.

The morning was half-done and Thomas was walking between classes when he heard cheers from the main gate. He looked and saw a mob of students charging in. Four of them were being carried, and others were leaning on each other. Thomas ran toward them. “What’s going on?”

“We sent them running!” one student yelled. He was so excited he was practically dancing. “The preachers, the guards, everyone!”

“What? Where?”

“The dockworkers district! And near the Carpenters’ Guild! We sent them running!”

Thomas spotted Graham being carried in, blood running from his forehead, and livid bruises on his face. “What happened?” Thomas demanded. “How did you get hurt?”

“We forced them away,” groaned Graham. “We were at the docks. The preacher was telling lies about us and we managed to convince the dockworkers he was insulting them, too. They started throwing things at him and chanting and we managed to drive him out of the square. Then we marched together to the square near the Carpenters’ Guild.” The students holding him headed for the infirmary. Thomas kept pace. “We marched in chanting ‘King’s men!’ We were met by two dozen of the Church’s guards on foot and another half-dozen on horseback, plus one of the preachers and about two dozen of the carpenters’ apprentices.” Graham smiled, and the blood flowing down his forehead threatened to overflow his lips and go into his mouth “I think the apprentices were there for the fight, more than anything else.”

“A riot,” said Thomas. “You started a riot.”

“
We
didn’t start it,” protested Graham. “We managed to get the square cleared of the preacher and his supporters, but a bunch of us got hurt. We were on our way out when the city watch was on its way in. I’m guessing some folks got arrested.”

If not killed,
thought Thomas as Graham was carried to the infirmary.

Thomas spent the day worrying about what would happen if war did break out. He didn’t pay much attention to his classes and got scolded for it. By the time he met Henry and Eileen at the gates he was more than ready to go home.

“How did it go?” Henry asked. “Anything exciting?”

“Graham and the others got in a riot,” said Thomas.

“I’d heard,” said Henry. “In fact, the entire Academy heard.”

“That’s not good,” said Eileen.

“It is and it isn’t,” said Henry. “It means people care.”

“It means people are siding with the Church against the king,” said Thomas. “That’s bad.”

“But they’re also siding with the king against the Church,” Henry pointed out. “And that’s good.”

“Be better if they didn’t have to take sides,” said Thomas.

“But since that’s not happening, isn’t it good to know that some are on our side?”

“Can we avoid the market square tonight?” Eileen asked. “I don’t feel like being called names.”

“Your wish is our command,” said Henry. “In fact, if we were to take the street just south there is an excellent wine shop where we could stop. Just the thing to go with dinner.”

“Whose dinner?” asked Eileen. “Or do you think I’m cooking for you?”

“One had hopes.”

“One is going to be disappointed,” said Eileen. She shook her head. “I have enough trouble keeping George fed. I’m not going to feed you as well without notice.”

“What if we fed George?” said Thomas. “Buy some bread and a chicken or something. It’s been a while since we all sat down for a meal.”

“I think he’d like that,” said Eileen. “I know I’d like it.”

“And me,” said Henry. “But how do we do that without going through the market?”

“There’s a baker south of the Street of Smiths,” said Eileen. “And a cook-shop. They always have a decent bird or two ready.”

“Then follow me,” said Henry. He led them south a pair of streets and across the city. The wine shop in question yielded two bottles at a price that made Thomas raise his eyebrows, but which Henry paid without blinking. They were following Eileen towards the cook-shop and baker when they heard someone yelling, “Stupid witch!”

“Do some tricks, witch!”

There came a clatter of something being thrown, then another.

“Help! Oh, help,” came a new, female voice, drowned out at once by other, younger voices jeering at her.

“This way,” said Thomas, drawing his rapier. Henry and Eileen followed, drawing their own blades as they went. Thomas followed the sound to an alley and found six boys surrounding an older woman, blocking her from leaving. None of them came close to her. All were yelling. As Thomas watched, one threw a rock that connected with the woman’s arm. She cried out in pain.

“You stop that,” she scolded. “You stop or I’ll get the Watch!”

“The Watch won’t come here,” said one of the boys. “Not for the likes of you, witch!”

The other boys jeered and made mock-charges at the woman. The woman tried to slap at them, but they danced out of her reach. Several threw pieces of rotted vegetables at her. The boy with the rocks raised his arm to throw another.

“Hey!” shouted Thomas. “Enough!”

One of the boys turned to say something and saw the rapiers. He yelped in surprise and stumbled back. The other boys turned to look and immediately fell silent.

“That’s enough of that,” said Thomas. “Get lost.”

“She’s a witch!” said the boy with the rocks. “Witches don’t deserve to walk the streets.”

“She’s not a witch,” said Thomas. “There’s no such thing.”

“She is!” protested another boy. “Everyone knows it.”

Thomas advanced, his blade in front of him. The boys fell back.

“If you would like to come with us?” said Thomas to the woman.

“Thank you, young man,” she said, still glaring at the boys.

“She makes babies sick!” called another boy. “She kills cats!”

“Doesn’t make her a witch,” said Henry.

“You should know better,” scolded Eileen. “Who are your parents? Do they know you’re out here?”