True Magics (43 page)

There was a fog that loitered in the streets, and enough light to see where he was going. Thomas opened his cloak to let the cool air wash over him. It didn’t make him feel any more awake.
I really need to get some more sleep. At this rate…

Thomas heard footsteps behind him.

He spun and drew his rapier. Two identical young men froze, staring at the blade. Neither was armed.

“Whoa, whoa! Wait!” said the first of them. “It’s all right. We just want to talk is all.”

“We were at Malcolm’s party,” said the second. “Remember?”

“Aye,” said Thomas. “I remember. Why are you here?”

“Well, it’s not just us,” said one of them. “There’s a lot of us here.” He signalled and a three other men came out of the alley. They looked slightly shame-faced, as if none of them were there by choice. “And we need your help.”

“I heard Malcolm was taken,” said Thomas. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, he wasn’t,” said one of the other men—an older fellow with a thick red beard. He started stepping around Thomas. “In fact, he wants to see you.” He looked down at the rapier. “Do you really need to have that out?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “Do I?”

“No, you don’t,” said the first twin, moving to the other side. “No one here wants to hurt you. We just need your help.”

“How did you know I’d be out in the street this time of day?”

“We didn’t,” said the man with the beard. “Malcolm gave us your address. We just saw you leaving and followed you.”

“At this hour of the morning?” Thomas pulled his dagger and pointed it at the men trying to circle behind him. “Stop that,” he said. “Stay where I can see you.”

“Or what?” the man asked, still moving. “You’ll kill me?’

“Yes,” said Thomas.

“You need to come with us,” said one of the twins.

“I have an appointment,” said Thomas.

“It’s important,” said the man with the beard. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Why would you need to—”

The twins both jumped at once, tackling Thomas and driving him backward to the ground. Thomas tucked his chin and managed not to hit his head on the cobbles. Someone grabbed each arm, pinning them with their entire body weight and twisting at his weapons until he let them go. One of the men shoved a sack over his head, and others tied his hands and feet before dragging him up and carrying him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid,
Thomas thought as they carried him through the street.
I should have killed them.

But he couldn’t have. They weren’t armed, and didn’t seem to want to hurt him. Even now none of them were actively trying to damage him as they carried him, face-down, through the streets. One of them even said, “It will be all right. Just wait.”

The men lifted him up and manoeuvred him through a door, catching his shoulder then his hips on the side of it. They dropped Thomas onto a wooden floor that rocked slightly when he hit. The floor kept rocking while others moved around him, their boots hitting him in the head as they brushed past him.

Carriage,
Thomas thought as he tried to squirm and struggle. He yelled for help and something sharp pressed against his neck.

“Shut up!” said one of them. “Or we’ll cut your throat!”

No you won’t,
Thomas thought,
or you wouldn’t have grabbed me alive in the first place.
He stopped shouting, though, and waited. The carriage started moving, and the men all put their boots on top of Thomas, holding him down against the floorboards. Thomas gritted his teeth and tried not to groan as the carriage jarred its way down the street, smacking the bruises on his face with every jolt. The ride was at least half an hour, and Thomas felt every ridge, bump and pothole on the way.

And now Sir Walter will be mad at me again
, Thomas thought.
Or he’ll come looking for me. Maybe.

The carriage finally stopped and Thomas was bundled out. He felt the change in temperature as they carried him into a building, and heard a large door being swung shut. Then they put him down on a stone floor.

“You’ve got him?” said Malcolm from somewhere nearby. There was fear in his voice, and desperation.

“We do,” said one of the men. “Didn’t even have to go in the house. He left and we followed him.”

“Put him in the chair,” said Malcolm. “Then help us prepare the space.”

They hauled Thomas to his feet and tied him to the chair but didn’t remove the sack over his head. Around him he heard footsteps echoing, and brooms sweeping and something large and wood being pulled aside. Malcolm began chanting prayers to the Daughter, beseeching her help in his time of need, and asking her to consecrate the space. His voice echoed off the walls.

One of Malcolm’s warehouses,
Thomas guessed.
Not that that helps me at all.

The bell of the morning sounded
.
“Everything is ready,” said Malcolm. “Is he hurt?”

“No,” said someone else. “We had to wrestle with him a bit, but we didn’t hurt him.”

“Then take that sack off his head. It’s time”

One of the twins pulled the bag was pulled off Thomas’s head. Malcolm gasped. “I thought you said he wasn’t hurt!”

“Not by us,” said the man with the beard. “He looked like that when we found him.”

Definitely a warehouse,
thought Thomas, taking in the large, dim room and the crates and barrels at the far end of it.

Malcolm was standing over an old book on a table, reading it carefully by the light of a lamp. His face was also bruised, and Thomas was pretty sure Malcolm’s nose had changed shape. Under other circumstances, Thomas would have been more sympathetic. “You should probably get your nose straightened,” he called. “It can really wreck your breathing.”

Malcolm ignored him.

Thomas tried to free his hands. Whoever tied it was good at knots, and the ropes were tight enough that Thomas began to worry about his circulation. “Any chance we can loosen the ropes around my wrists?”

“No,” said Malcolm, picking up the book. “Form a circle.”

Malcolm’s congregation joined hands in a circle, with one on each side holding one of Thomas’s arms. Malcolm stood across from Thomas and raised the book so he could read it. Two of his followers wrapped their hands around his wrists.

“What are you doing, Malcolm?” asked Thomas.

“Saving Delores and Claudine. Now be quiet.”

“And tying me to a chair helps, how?”

“Be quiet,” repeated Malcolm. “You would not share your magic with us willingly, and so now you will share it whether you will or not.”

Oh, by the Four.
“It won’t work, Malcolm.”

Malcolm ignored him.
“Let that which is possessed be shared,”
he said.
“Let that which each holds be amplified, and let that which is in each of us be shared.”

Thomas remembered the feeling of having his magic drained from his body in the caverns below Frostmire. The thought made him shudder.
Malcolm has no magic,
he reminded himself.
You can’t take magic without magic.

I hope.

“Let the circle’s magic be brought together,”
said Malcolm.
“Let it be guided through my body. Let it be directed where I will, and let it be bent to my purpose.”

Thomas closed his eyes and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He opened one eye. Malcolm was still standing, looking up to the ceiling, as if the Daughter was going to appear before him. Thomas opened the other eye and said, “Told you.”

“Shut up!” Malcolm yelled. “This is the Daughter’s greatest secret! It is the core of her power!”

He raised the book and read through the incantation again. Again they waited and, again, nothing happened.

“Untie me,” said Thomas. “Let me look at it.”

“Be silent!” shouted Malcolm. “This is your fault! If you’d shared your magic in the first place this wouldn’t be necessary!”

“Maybe it only works by holding hands,” said one of the twins. “We can untie his hands but still leave him tied to the chair.”

“Do that,” said Malcolm.

They did. Blood rushed to Thomas’s fingers, making them ache as the twins squeezed them. Malcolm ran through the incantation three more times with the book on the floor in front of him. Still nothing happened. Thomas, relieved to have feeling in his hands, didn’t protest.

After the fourth time through, Malcolm screamed in frustration and rushed across the circle. He grabbed Thomas by the shirt, threatening to overbalance the chair. “Give us your magic!” he screamed. “Give it to us! Help us!
HELP ME!!!”

“I can’t!” said Thomas, trying to catch onto Malcolm to keep from falling over. “Magic doesn’t work like that!”

“He’s lying,” said one of the twins. “He doesn’t have any magic! He never did! That’s why it doesn’t work!”

Malcolm shoved Thomas hard, sending the chair over backwards. Thomas hit the ground hard and saw stars. When his vision cleared he saw Malcolm on his knees, weeping. The congregation was gathered around him, trying to comfort him. Thomas, thankful his hands were free, struggled with the knots on his ropes until he managed to untie them. Malcolm was still sobbing when Thomas rolled off the chair and to his feet.

“Hey!” said one of the twins. “He’s free!”

The twins and two others left Malcolm and headed for Tomas, mayhem on their faces. Thomas looked for a place to run, but Malcolm and the others were between him and the door. In desperation, he picked up the chair. “I can’t beat you all,” he said, backing up, “but I will hurt some of you really, really badly.”

“Why not use your magic?” sneered one of the twins. “Why not call lightning?”

“Because it would start a fire,” said Thomas.
If I throw the chair at him, I can get to the door. Maybe.

“Leave him!” shouted Malcolm, making everyone freeze. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “He’s useless. Leave him.”

The twins backed off.

“Where’s my rapier?” asked Thomas. “And my dagger?”

“In the carriage,” said the man with the big beard, his teeth gritted in anger. “Outside.”

“Good.” Thomas dropped the chair and walked past them. Malcolm’s book was still open, and Thomas glanced down at it as he went by.

The words on the page glowed blue.

By the Four…
Thomas stumbled, caught himself, and knelt beside the book, reading as fast as he could. A group of magicians working together, it said, could pool their power and multiply it. The longer the circle was held before the magic was released, the stronger the magic would become. Thomas looked closer, wondering if there were any warnings of what happened to the users.

“Get away from there!” snapped one of the men, shoving him over. “That’s a holy book!”

But I need it.
Thomas scrambled back. The twins advanced again, both looking more than ready to do him harm.
I have to have it.

“Just get out of here!” said the man. “Now!”

Thomas looked past him. Malcolm was in a chair now, but still wept like a man destroyed. The rest of his congregation knelt near him. All laid their hands on him as if they could take the pain into themselves through the contact. The man who pushed Thomas over was standing over the book, now.

I could get my swords from the carriage. I could come back and…

And what, kill them?

“Malcolm!” Thomas called out. “Claudine is safe!”

Malcolm raised his head out of his hands. “What?”

“Claudine is safe,” Thomas repeated. “She’s staying with Master Smith Gatron’s family.”

Malcolm shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight and opening them wide, as if doing so would help him understand better. “Safe?”

“Safe,” said Thomas. “And today the Academy is sending lawyers to the Church courts to demand proof of lawful incarceration. We might be able to get Delores out as well.”

Malcolm began shaking. A woman jumped up and caught his arm to keep him from falling. “Oh, Blessed Daughter,” he moaned. “Oh, thank you. Oh, my little girl.”

Thomas stood up. “I need to borrow your book, Malcolm.”

Malcolm, too overcome with emotions, didn’t even look up. The man standing over the book shook his head. “It’s a holy book,” he said. “You can’t have it.”

“You should leave,” said one of the twins. “Now.”

“Please, Malcolm,” Thomas pleaded. “You said you’d loan it to me. You said you’d let me read it. It’s important!”

Both twins stepped forward. “We said get out!”

Thomas threw an arm into the air.
I hope the king forgives me.