True Magics (6 page)

“By the Four, Thomas!” she said through chattering teeth. “I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again!”

“It gets worse,” said Thomas. “You have to take off your shift and drawers before you freeze.”

Eileen’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“You’ll never warm up, otherwise.” Thomas stepped away and wrapped his blanket around his waist. With some struggling against the cold wet fabric, he managed to free himself from his braies and let them drop onto the beach.

“Thomas!” Eileen’s hand went to her mouth and she started laughing even as she shook. All over the beach men and boys were the same thing all to the cheers of the watching women. Thomas pulled on his breeches under the blanket and laced them up. “Do it or you’ll freeze! Stand over your clothes.”

Eileen’s blush grew even brighter, but stood over her clothes and struggled with holding the blanket while pulling at her shift. Thomas wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, then grabbed the edges of hers and held both up, forming a makeshift screen.

“Pray George doesn’t see us! He’s angry enough already!” Eileen said as she wriggled and pulled her way out of her shift and tossed it aside. Every boy who could see cheered his approval. Eileen rolled her eyes. She pointed a finger at Thomas. “Not a word out of you!”

Thomas didn’t say a thing.

She disappeared under the blanket again and a moment later her drawers hit the sand, too. Another round of cheers and whistles came from the students. Eileen raised one hand in a rude gesture before using the blanket to rub the parts of her that were still wet. She grabbed her shirt up from the ground and for a moment arms and cloth waved above the blanket as she pulled the shirt over her head. She disappeared again, grabbed her skirt from the sand and a moment later pulled the blanket from Thomas’s hands. “Done!”

“Good!” said Thomas, stepping away to grab his shirt while Eileen tied her skirt and started on her stockings. A couple of boys gave half-hearted, shivering whistles, but by now most of them had hit the water and were too busy getting themselves dried off. Thomas hurried into his coat and cloak, and grabbed his braies off the beach while Eileen quickly struggled into her bodice. “M-m-my hands,” she said. “Th-th-they’re shaking too bad to do up the laces.”

Linda elbowed her way to Eileen. “Here,” she said, taking the laces and deftly pulling them tight. “Is your brother as wild as you?”

“N-n-n-no,” said Eileen. “He’s the calm one in the family.”

“B-but not the s-smart one,” said George, who was standing in his braies, still dripping water. He was shivering now, and turning blue, but he didn’t look any less angry. “Otherwise I’d have g-guessed you were g-going to d-d-do that and b-b-brought you your own b-b-blanket.”

“George!” Eileen grabbed up her blanket and threw it over George’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry!”

Thomas tossed his blanket over George’s shoulders as well. “Get yourself dry. Hurry!”

George wrapped one blanket around his waist and struggled out of his braies while Linda dried his shoulders and back with the other. Thomas noted that her father did not seem at all distressed by her actions and wondered just how far along their relationship was.

“Thomas!” Eileen’s call brought him back from his thoughts. “What do we do next?”

“Breakfast!” declared Mark, coming up beside her. “Hot breakfast and mulled wine! And cheers to Eileen for going in!”

Eileen managed a smile as the Student Company cheered, slapping her back and shaking her hand. Keith, still in line to go into the water, ignored them entirely.

“I always said you had lovely legs,” said Henry clapping a hand on Eileen’s shoulder. “Thanks for showing everyone I was right.”

Eileen punched his chest. Her cheeks were bright red, and not just from the cold. Thomas wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You were amazing. Now let’s get out of here.”

Eileen nodded and leaned against him as Thomas led them all off the beach. Most of the students had girls with them, and Linda was walking arm-in-arm with the still-furious George. Everyone was shivering, and their wet hair was turning to ice

“To the Quill for breakfast!” declared Henry.

“The Smiths’ Guild is coming to my place,” said George, “I’ll be making breakfast for them all. Eileen, you need to be there to serve. Thomas,” George looked angrier than before. “Don’t come.”

“George,” Linda sounded very disapproving. “That’s not nice. Thomas is your oldest friend.”

“I want to stay with Thomas,” Eileen said. “If he can’t come, then I can’t come.”

“You’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” said George. “You need to come home.”

“I wasn’t the one causing trouble.”

“No, you were the one naked on the beach.”

“No more than you!”

“Be fair, George,” said Thomas. “She wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t—”

“For you?” said George. “I know! None of us would be here if it weren’t for you.” Sarcasm and anger laced his voice. “But maybe, just once, we can make this not about you!”

“George!” Linda’s tone was sharp. “What’s going on here?”

“Thomas Flarety?”

Everyone turned to look. The voice belonged to a thin, weather-beaten man wearing the blue and white livery of the king. He rode the most magnificent horse Thomas had seen. “Is one of you Thomas Flarety?” he asked.

“I am,” said Thomas.

“The king requests your presence in the palace,” he said. “And yours, Lord Henry.”

“Of course he does,” said Henry.

“Immediately, if you please.”

“But… why?” Eileen’s voice shook. “Why does the king want you?”

“One guess,” muttered George, earning him another sharp look from Linda.

Thomas swallowed his anger and took Eileen’s hand. “It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, I’m sure.” He kissed her hand, and then her lips. “Go home. I’ll see you tonight, and we’ll go out to dinner.”

“And try not to scandalize the Smiths’ Guild any more than you already have,” said Henry, stepping out of Eileen’s reach. “At least not until we can watch.”

“Follow me, gentlemen,” said the messenger, turning his horse and walking it back up the path toward the city. Thomas and Henry fell in behind him, walking quickly to keep up.

“I don’t suppose you brought us horses, too?” asked Henry.

“No.”

Thomas looked back over his shoulder. Eileen saw and waved. She tried to smile but just looked worried and scared. Thomas tried a smile of his own but couldn’t manage it. Then the crowd closed in around Eileen and he lost sight of her.

The length and events of the night and the chill of the water all washed over Thomas at once. His legs began shaking with cold and exhaustion and Thomas could feel his strength running out like the tide. He rubbed his face hard with the heels of his hands, trying to scrub wakefulness through his skin.

“How are you doing?” asked Henry.

“Oh, badly,” said Thomas. He let his hands fall. “Everyone is going to know now, aren’t they?”

“Everyone is going to hear,” said Henry. “Not everyone will believe.”

“I should have known,” Thomas shook his head. “I did know. I knew everything would come out eventually. I just hoped…” Thomas began swearing; quietly, viciously and for a very long time.

Henry waited until the words stopped. “Done?”

“No,” said Thomas. “I just ran out.”

“Well, let me know when you’ve got any new ones. I’ll take notes.”

Thomas tossed a weary, rude gesture in Henry’s direction, and kept walking.

4

They followed the messenger past the harbour and through the outer city. The streets were mostly empty and the silence was almost unnerving. It took an hour to reach the wide-open gates of the old city walls. The messenger nodded to the guards and led Thomas and Henry inside. The streets here were pristine, the businesses fancy, the houses large and the residents wealthy. And in the middle of it all sat the royal palace.

It had been a true castle, once, and the walls and towers of the old keep were still visible beneath the newer wings that grew at right angles from the original buildings.

It had been five years since Thomas and the rest of his class were brought to court to give their formal pledge of allegiance to the king and the Royal Academy of Learning. The place had been packed with courtiers and soldiers, and the king had been in full regalia—fur cloak, crown, rich red robes, the queen on the seat next to him and pages standing to either side.

Thomas, who had never been anywhere larger than the nearest town before his arrival at Hawksmouth, had been completely stunned and overwhelmed by all the pomp and ceremony. He had thought the palace was magnificent. Now, the building felt ominous and imposing, like the weight of it was going to crush him at any moment.

They passed through the gate in the low outer wall and into the courtyard. A pair of guards wearing swords stood in front of the large, ornamental main doors. The messenger announced, “Thomas Flarety and Lord Henry Antonius, summoned to the king.”

The guards nodded. One said, “This way,” and opened the door.

The hallway on the other side was wide with polished, white marble floors and smooth plaster walls painted with murals of the kingdom’s history. Large windows let in the light from outside. It was ornate, immaculate and terrifying. Thomas wondered if they were ever going to be allowed out again.

Don’t be stupid,
he told himself.
If he wanted to arrest us we’d already be in chains.

Thomas really hoped he was right about that.

They stopped at a small door with two more guardsmen standing at it. These were older, with a bit of grey in their beards, but they stood just as straight as the others. The man escorting Thomas and Henry saluted. “Thomas Flarety and Lord Henry Antonius to see the king.”

“Of course,” said the guard at the door. “He’ll be here eventually. You two stand and wait.”

The first guard saluted and left. Henry shrugged and leaned against the wall. After a moment, Thomas joined him. Neither of the guards looked impressed, but neither said anything. Thomas took in the grain of the polished stone on the floor, the murals painted on the wall and the lacquered shine of the wood in the door. By the time an hour had crawled by, he had also calculated the cost of the guards uniforms, if they were to come from Thomas’s father’s warehouses, the cost of the steel of the weapons, if George was to make them, and how far he could run before the guards chased him down and arrested him.

Another guard approached, saluted the two at the door and said, “His majesty is ready.”

“Excellent,” said Henry. “And is his majesty in a good mood?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the guard, opening the door. “Go in and turn—”

“Don’t bother,” said Henry. “I know the way. Come along, Thomas.”

They walked past the guard and through the door to the throne room.

“Now what?” Thomas asked out of the side of his mouth.

“Walk forward until you’re in the middle of the floor, turn left, and bow,” said Henry. “And let me do the talking.”

The throne room had black marble columns running down the length of it, with a balcony all around. Thomas and Henry’s boot steps were sharp and hard on the green marble floor and echoed through the mostly empty space. Tapestries on the walls depicted battles and hunts. Windows along the length of the balcony let in a dull, grey winter light. Someone was arguing, though it stopped as soon as Thomas and Henry came into sight.

They reached the middle of the room, turned left and bowed. And waited. And waited.

“Rise, Thomas and Lord Henry,” said the king. “And approach.”

They straightened.

The king sat on a silver throne on a dais the same colour as the marble on the floor. His hair was still damp from the beach and he wore a plain white jacket and breeches—certainly rich but by no means close to full regalia. Save for the purple of his cloak and the gold circle on his head, he could have been a simple noble. His face held no expression whatsoever, which made Thomas even more nervous.

Three men stood below the dais. One wore a plain grey jacket and breeches. His expression was as neutral as the king’s. The second wore the red robes of a churchman and a sneer on his thin face.

The third, wearing black and leaning on a walking stick, was Father Alphonse.

Thomas felt his heart stop, and then tear into motion again, beating far faster than it should.

Father Alphonse was an Inquisitor, part of the Church’s defence against witches. In the fall, he had chained Thomas to a cell floor for two days, questioning him relentlessly about witchcraft. He had also followed them north, and at Lord Richard’s request, tortured Henry’s brother John. When Thomas and his friends had left Frostmire, John had said that he was looking forward to making the man die very slowly and very, very painfully.

Henry pushed Thomas from behind. Thomas stumbled forward, caught his balance and tried to make his stride normal. Father Alphonse smiled. Thomas focused on keeping his breathing steady as he walked. It calmed him a bit, and helped with the trembling. He wished desperately for his rapier and dagger.