True Magics (39 page)

“It was my dad said she’s a witch!” said the boy with the rocks. He raised his arm to throw.

Henry crossed the distance in three fast steps, stopping with the tip of his blade in front of the boy’s face. “Get lost. All of you.”

The boy scrambled away, his friends on his heels.

“We need to get out of here,” said Thomas. “Before they come back with their parents.”

Eileen glared after the boys. She offered the woman her arm. “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” said the woman. “Thank you so much. They… they just surrounded me. And wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know why they called me a witch. I don’t… I don’t go near children or herbs or anything like that. I don’t even have a garden. I’m…. I’m a weaver.”

“They called you a witch because they’re stupid,” said Eileen. “Because they think they can get away with it. We’ll help get you home.”

They were late getting to the forge, and George looked ready to grumble about it until he saw the chicken, bread, wine and pastries—Thomas had insisted on the pastries. His frown came back as soon as they told him what they’d seen.

“Foolishness,” he declared.

“Well, what were we supposed to do?” demanded Eileen.

“Not you three,” said George, waving away her protest. “At least the preachers are gone.”

“Gone? They were in the square this morning.”

“Linda went to the square just an hour ago,” said George. “She told me that the students were there but there wasn’t any sign of the preacher.”

“Well, that’s something,” said Thomas.

“Maybe the riot did some good,” said Henry.

“Riot?” exclaimed George. “What riot?” He rounded on his sister. “When did you get in a riot?”

“I didn’t,” said Eileen, rolling her eyes. “I’d have said that first, if I had.”

“It was Graham,” said Thomas. “And a bunch of the others. They got in a riot with the preachers and their followers.”

George swore. “That’s bad, Thomas. Really bad. Did anyone die?”

“None of the students,” said Thomas. “I’m not sure about anyone else.”

George shook his head. “What’s going to happen next?”

“Nothing I’d like to talk about in the streets,” said Thomas. “Let’s go inside.”

Over dinner Thomas told George all they’d figured out the day before, and how Sir Walter confirmed it. George’s expression went bleak as he listened, and he started shaking. “This is bad,” he said. “Very, very bad.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be in another war.”

“Neither do I,” said Thomas. “But maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe the Church will back down.”

“Or the king,” said Henry. “What are you going to do if that happens?”

“No idea,” said Thomas. “Run away, probably.”

George put his head in his hands. “Stupidity, all of it.”

“Aye, it is that,” said Henry. “But it’s no reason to waste all this lovely food, is it?”

A chuckle rippled through George and he brought his face up again. “No. It certainly is not.”

They talked mostly of inconsequential things through dinner; of Eileen’s classes and Thomas and Henry’s law studies. Eileen talked of the dinner they’d had with Claudine the night before, and how the girl was thinking of trying for the Academy. Henry teased George about Linda and was growled at for it.

“Enough of this,” said George as the last of the wine was finished. “Eileen needs to study and you lot need to get home and get some sleep.”

“Can’t,” said Thomas. “We’ve got to keep an eye on our baker friend, and see if he goes out tonight.”

“I can come,” said Eileen.

“No you can’t,” said George. Eileen opened her mouth to protest, but George spoke first, “You’ve done all this work to get into the Academy and it won’t matter a bit if you don’t pass your exams. You need to study. Especially trigonometry. Thomas and Henry can stand outside in the cold all by themselves.”

“Sadly true,” said Henry.

“He’s right,” agreed Thomas. “I doubt anything will happen tonight, so you might as well stay home. We’ll tell you if something happens tonight.”

Eileen frowned at them. “You promise?”

“We promise,” said Thomas. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Eileen walked them down to the smithy and gave Thomas a kiss before he and Henry went on their way. The evening was cool and damp, but there were spaces in the clouds above, showing the last light of the sun
.

They dropped their books and robes at home and headed for The Pie and Tart. It was just closing down for the night. Through the windows they could see Robert’s wife sweeping the floors, and Robert himself looking over the shelves and chatting with her. Thomas and Henry took themselves to the alley and resumed their places.

“Here,” said Thomas, pulling a package out from under his cloak. “I brought the leftover pastries.”

“Which ones?” asked Henry. “The apple or the blueberry?”

“Can’t remember,” said Thomas. “Can’t see which is which, either, in this light, so pick one and I hope it isn’t the blueberry because I want that.”

They picked and munched and discovered both were blueberry. As they watched, the cooks went home for the night and the lights went out.

“Do you think George is getting better?” asked Thomas. “I mean, we talked about a war and he only shook a bit.”

“He isn’t better,” said Henry. “He’s just strong enough to keep from showing it when we’re around.”

They lapsed into silence until the midnight bell rang. Then they began the long walk home.

“Maybe they only meet once a month,” said Henry, once they were well away from the bakery.

“I hope not,” said Thomas. “I need to find out what’s happening before then.”

They heard the mob before they saw it; an ugly mixture of yelling and stomping and horse’s hooves on cobbles. Two men were shouting louder than the others, struggling to be heard above the din. Thomas and Henry followed the sound to a square near the city walls. It was half-full of people gathered around the central fountain. A dozen cavalry stood in line on one side of it. Each rider had a torch in his hand. Twenty or more Church soldiers on foot stood in front of them, spears in their hands held sideways to hold back the angry crowd that surrounded them.

“See!” screamed a preacher, standing on his little box, his arms waving with excitement. “See how the wicked are to be punished! See how the evil cannot escape! See the witches, ready for hanging!”

Seven women stood, chained together at the neck, their hands in shackles, in the centre of the footmen. Most were in their night clothes. Several had bruises on their faces. All looked terrified.

Thomas swore and stepped back into the shadows. Henry followed without a word.

One of the cavalrymen kicked his horse’s flanks and rode forward out of the line. “By order of Culverton, Archbishop of Criethe!” he declared, “let it be known that witchcraft, so long an abomination against man and the one true faith, has shown its most hideous face once more in the fair city of Hawksmouth!” He raised an arm, pointing it at the fearful, chained women. “Here stand seven women accused of that most terrible crime!”

“Anna hasn’t done nothing!” called a man. “My wife is a good woman!”

“Claris would never practice witchcraft!”

“Delores did nothing!”

“Liars!” the preacher yelled. “Liars all of you! They’re witches! They conjured the Banished! They gave themselves to the Banished to gain advantage over their neighbours! They bewitched men to their service!”

Someone threw a cobblestone at the preacher, narrowly missing his head. The cavalry leader shouted a command and the troop drew their swords.

“Hear me!” cried the soldier who spoke before. “Hear me! There will be no punishment without evidence! No sentence without a trial! Each of these women will face the question and the truth will come out!”

“No! Don’t you torture my little girl!”

Another cobble flew, then a third. The cavalrymen raised their shields.

“What about the students?” demanded the preacher. “When will they be arrested? When will they face the High Father’s judgement?”

“The students hide behind the king,” said the cavalryman. “He keeps their wickedness from being punished, and protects them from the true law—the law of the Church!”

“No more!” screamed the preacher. “No more! Let the students pay! Make the students pay! Make the students pay!”

It became a chant, taken up by half the crowd. The other half yelled curses and tried to reach the women inside the circle. Men and women shoved and screamed, and fists flew. The cavalryman shouted an order, barely audible above the noise, and the cavalry began walking their horses forward in a line, forcing the people around them back and to the sides. The soldiers on foot followed. Half had their spears sideways as barriers; the others had their tips pointed toward the crowd, keeping them back.

Rage burned white hot inside Thomas. “We have to stop them.”

“We can’t,” said Henry.

“I can.”

Henry caught his arm before he could raise it. “Not against that many soldiers,” he said. “You might get one or two, then the rest will ride down the crowd to get to you. Do you want that?”

“Bastards,” Thomas forced his voice quiet and his anger down. He watched the cavalrymen make their slow way out of the square. “Why attack the women? This isn’t like the last war. No women are fighting in the name of the Daughter or the Mother. Why not arrest their husbands or their brothers?”

By the Four, why not me?

“I don’t know,” said Henry. “We need to get off the street. Now.”

Thomas swore at the soldiers’ backs and followed Henry through the side streets and back to their apartment. Three more times they ran into mobs cheering or shouting at Church soldiers as they dragged women through the streets. One time Thomas caught a glimpse of the prisoners; three old women and two young ones, huddled together, ropes tied around their necks, their faces etched deep with shock, horror and despair.

And all the time he kept thinking,
The High Father’s Church made the first move. It’s war now. It’s all going to be war.

When they reached the square in front of their apartment, Thomas was spitting with rage and practically crying from helplessness. He half-prayed that the Church soldiers would be at his door so he could unleash his anger, magic and blades on them. Beside him, Henry was stone-faced, his hand gripping his rapier’s hilt.

They both nearly tripped over the girl curled up against the base of the fountain, shivering and weeping silently. Thomas’s eyes went wide. “Claudine?”

23

Claudine looked up, her face streaked with tears. “Oh thank the Daughter!” She staggered upright and stumbled forward, wincing as her bare, bloody feet touched the rough cobbles of the street. She wore nothing but a long shift, and shook with cold and fear. “Please, please, please, please…”

Henry caught her before she could fall and wrapped his cloak around her. “What happened?”

“My mother,” sobbed Claudine. “My father. They’ve taken them both. Please help!”

“Inside,” Thomas said. “Fast!”

Henry picked Claudine up and carried her. Thomas ran ahead and opened the door. Henry brought Claudine in and laid her on the couch. He put his cloak over her and headed for his room. “I’ll get some blankets.”

“I’ll get the fire going,” said Thomas, crouching before it. He laid in the kindling and logs then looked over his shoulder. Claudine was staring at the wall, her eyes barely focused. Thomas shifted so Claudine couldn’t see the fireplace, and called flames into the kindling. It caught at once, and he fed it until it was crackling and the flames licked the logs.

By the time Thomas turned around, Henry had Claudine wrapped in a pair of blankets, and was holding his flask to her lips. Claudine swallowed some, then gasped and coughed. “Again,” said Henry. “Don’t try to breathe. Just swallow it.”

Claudine made a face but swallowed the whiskey down.

“I’m going to make some tea,” said Henry. “And then you can tell us what happened. Thomas, help me with the kitchen fire.”

“Of course,” said Thomas, following him into the kitchen.

“She can’t stay here,” whispered Henry as soon as the door closed. “Not if her parents have been arrested.”

“She doesn’t have any place else to go,” said Thomas.

“I know
that
!” Henry grabbed the kettle and filled it from the bucket. “Light the fire.”

Thomas tossed a pair of logs into the iron stove and stared at them until they burst into flames. He added a third log on top and closed the door.

Henry put the kettle on the stove. “They might be coming after us next and we don’t want them getting her, too. We need to get her someplace safe. And find her some clothes.”

“Maybe Eileen can loan her some.”

“She’d pop Eileen’s clothes at the seams,” said Henry. He took another pot and poured the rest of the water into it. “She needs to be warmed up and cleaned up, and her feet bandaged.”