Small Magics (53 page)

“Four,” said Thomas. “But only two I can use.” He held up the book for them to see. “The last two sections are titled ‘Greater Magic’. It’s all stuff you hear in the old legends, like calling a storm, or sending fire out of your hands. I can’t do them.”

“Why not?”

“Not enough strength,” Thomas explained. “You need a lot of power to make those spells work.”

“How do you know?” demanded Henry. “Have you tried any of them?”

Thomas nodded. “Aye.”

“Which one?” demanded Benjamin

Thomas paged through the book. “This one. ‘Spell to cause fog to rise from the earth’. ”

“Good thing it didn’t work,” said Benjamin. “Someone might have noticed a fog rolling into the city on the middle of a sunny afternoon.”

“I did think of that.” Thomas pointed to one of the lines on the page. “You control the spell by imagining the area you want the fog to fill. So I imagined my room.”

“And?”

Thomas sighed. “Pass me a cup.”

Henry raised an eyebrow and handed Thomas a cup. Thomas put it on the table and stared at it. The others waited quietly at first, but as more time passed, Henry began to fidget. Benjamin started to ask Thomas something, but Eileen shushed him. “Wait,” she said. “Just a bit longer.”

Thomas was sweating now, and his breathing was getting a bit ragged, but he kept his eyes on the glass. The others, at Eileen’s prompting, did the same. A small curl of mist began to form inside the cup. It swirled, and some spilled out, but it vanished almost as soon as it touched the table. Thomas kept staring. The little cloud of mist stayed a bit longer then began to vanish. Thomas took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, completely exhausted. “There you go.”

George took a big breath himself. “That’s impressive.”

“Aye,” agreed Henry. “Though not as impressive as a roomful of fog.”

“It’s all I can do,” Thomas explained. “And that nearly did me in.”

“I can see.” George gave his friend a good looking over. “I’d say you need something to eat.”

“In fact,” Benjamin said, “I think we all need something to eat.”

There was general agreement to that, and for the next little while the students bustled about in the room, getting food and wine and ale to the table. Soon everyone was devouring beef pies, pastries, and fresh blueberries from the fruit stand. It wasn’t until the food was gone that conversation resumed.

“Well,” said Henry. “Now we know what the bishop is doing.”

Benjamin stopped in the midst of taking a drink. “We do?”

“Aye. He’s building his power by taking other people’s magic.”

Thomas nodded. “If each gift gives some magical talent, then putting the gifts together should increase a person’s magical power.”

“But why is yours so important?” asked George.

“My gift is spotting other people’s,” said Thomas. “Think how much easier that would be for him.”

“The next question is, what will he do with it?” Henry took the book from Thomas and paged through the last section. “There’s some very nasty things in here.”

“But he’s not that powerful,” protested Thomas. “If he was, I never would have escaped from him the first time.”

“Maybe he’s looking to become that powerful,” Henry turned some more pages, and then held the book open for the others to see. “‘Spell to increase one’s magic.’ Did you see this?”

Thomas nodded. “Yes.”

“But he doesn’t have this book,” George said. “He can’t know that spell, can he?”

“He might have another one,” said Benjamin. “He might have a worse one.”

“Worse how?” asked Eileen. She suddenly straightened up and waved her hands to ward off any possible answer. “No, don’t tell me, I’m already imagining it.”

“Maybe you should use the spell, Thomas,” suggested Henry.

“I thought about it,” Thomas said. “Look what it requires.”

Henry read it and whistled. “Four hours meditation, one hour facing each of the cardinal directions.”

“On a night of a full moon,” finished Thomas, “in a circle of standing stones, sitting in the centre of a circle made like the one in the book.”

Henry put down the book for the others to see. The picture showed a pair of circles, one imbedded inside the other, with geometric shapes and knot-work designs connecting them.

“The drawing has to be begun just after sunset and finished by moonrise,” said Thomas, “and the person who draws it has to stay in the centre of it, turning as instructed, in order to gain the power. Which isn’t even permanent, I might add.”

“How long does it last?” asked George.

“From one full moon to the next.”

“Benjamin,” horror filled Eileen’s voice, “where did you say the nearest circle was?”

“Two days south, by horse.”

“And where’s the bishop’s summer house?”

“Two days south, by—” Benjamin didn’t finish.

Thomas felt very grim all of a sudden. “That’s why he’s going south.”

“When’s the next full moon?” asked Henry. “He can’t do it before then.”

“Two days,” said George. “It starts two days from now, and will last three nights.”

“And he’s leaving the day after tomorrow,” said Benjamin.

Henry looked thoughtful. “The timing’s right.”

Thomas’s head sank to his hands. “Great. Just what we need.”

“If that’s what he’s doing,” said Eileen, putting a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “We don’t know.”

“No, we don’t,” agreed Benjamin. “He could just want a few days in the country.” Thomas gave him a look and Benjamin amended that to, “Or he could be planning something else.”

“Like what?” asked Thomas.

“I don’t know. Did the books on the witch hunts say anything?”

Thomas shook his head. “I didn’t get that far. When we found out that the magic actually worked, we got distracted.”

“Not surprising,” said Henry, dryly. “You should go through them. We saw references to raising power and transferring magical ability.”

“I will,” Thomas straightened up and stretched in his seat. “But I can’t do it tonight. I’m not sure I can even stand up, right now”

“How do we catch him if he leaves town?” asked George. “Two days’ ride is a long walk.”

“We’ll buy horses,” Thomas said.

“And where are we going to get money for that?” demanded Henry.

“We have it,” said Thomas, smiling at George. “I put it someplace very safe.”

“So what do you want Henry and me to do?” asked Benjamin.

“Stay out of trouble. And see if the Criers are still talking about us.”

“Criers?” asked Benjamin.

“There’s a reward out for us,” George said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear them.”

“There’s always Criers about,” Henry replied. “I usually ignore them.”

“Well, now they’re crying about us. Criminals wanted by the church for acts of witchcraft and murder.”

“Wonderful,” Benjamin put his chin on one hand.

Thomas put his feet under himself, pushed up and managed to belie his earlier statement. He stood, wavering for a moment, and then caught his balance. “And now, I’m going to head for bed.”

“It’s only dinner time,” protested George.

“I know. Wake me after first bell tomorrow.”

Chapter 25

A rough hand shook Thomas into consciousness and for a moment he thought he was back in the loft at George and Eileen’s house. His half-asleep brain despaired at having to make the journey to Hawksmouth all over. Then he was shaken again and remembered where he was. His room was still dark, the only light coming from the common room. Thomas blinked the sleep out of his eyes and muttered an imprecation at the silhouette leaning over him— Benjamin or George from the size.

“No time for that.” It was Benjamin. “The bishop’s soldiers are in the yard.”

Thomas woke up, hard and fast. He tossed his blankets aside, punched George in the shoulder, and rolled to his feet. Benjamin was already gone. Thomas reached for the bed, found Eileen’s leg and shook it. She kicked out at him in her sleep and tried to tunnel under the blankets. Thomas pulled them off the bed. She let out a yelp at the sudden cold and tucked herself into a ball. She was wearing one of George’s shirts as a nightgown, and the length of her bare leg would have been a very fetching sight if Thomas had the time to enjoy the view. She sat up a moment later and glared at him. George, on the floor, was doing the same.

“Soldiers coming,” said Thomas to their glares. “Get dressed.”

He put on his own clothes as fast as he could, then knocked open the window shutters. The sky was only just beginning to turn from the deep black of night to the dark blue of pre-dawn. The night was clear, and the moon spread its light into the room.

From outside he could hear the soldiers and students yelling and the sounds of horses’ hooves. A fight was brewing. The senior students were not pleased at having their sleep disturbed and were letting the bishop’s men know about it in no uncertain terms. Thomas put the spell book and the two tomes on witch-hunting into his bag, then tossed his blanket in after. George and Eileen had both dressed, and were forcing on their boots. Eileen had thrown on a skirt, rather than attempting to struggle into boy’s clothes. As Thomas watched, they got their boots on and started stuffing their blankets into their bags. Thomas was just about to order them out the window when Benjamin stepped into the room, a lamp in his hand casting flickering yellow light and shadows into the room.

“Hurry!” Benjamin hissed. “They’re calling everyone out of their rooms!”

From the common room, a door slammed, making them all jump. Henry appeared in Thomas’s doorway a moment later, fully dressed and sword on his hip. “The bishop’s soldiers are out back, too.”

“What now?” demanded George. “Do we fight?”

“No!” Thomas was emphatic. “If we fight them, we’ll end up caught and hanged. We need to get away.” He headed to the window. “Come on. Across the roof.”

“We have to go downstairs,” Henry said to Benjamin. “Get your sword.”

“I shouldn’t,” argued Benjamin. “I’m supposed to be—”

“You don’t have a choice,” snapped Henry. “Listen!”

The soldiers’ shouts were getting louder, but from all around them a greater shout was rising up. Demands for a writ and calls for the king’s guards were coming from all around. Cries of “Go home!” were drowning out the sounds of the bishop’s men.

“Sounds like a riot,” said Thomas, who was surprised to find his voice shaking.

“Not yet,” Henry’s voice was hard and angry, “but it will be. Get your sword, Ben!”

Ben hesitated a moment longer, then ran. Thomas put down his bag. “Henry, look out there and see if you can see the bishop’s familiar. Tall man, all dressed in black.”

Henry left.

“What are you doing?” demanded George.

“I want to see what’s happening.”

“They’ll recognize you if you go out there.”

Thomas shook his head. “They won’t. Not from the top balcony.”

Henry came back. “No one like that down there.”

“Good.” Thomas went out to the balcony, Henry following. Students were standing on all the balconies and in the yard, shouting epithets at the bishop’s guards. The soldiers were shouting back. It was only ugly words being exchanged at the moment, but Thomas could see bottles and pots in the hands of those on the upper floors, and students with swords, knives, and sticks standing in the doorways of their ground floor apartments. In the courtyard, some twenty of the bishop’s guards were standing, while ten more sat on horseback. Long-shafted halberds were clutched in their hands, the steel of their axe blades and spear points glowing in the torchlight.

“They’re outnumbered,” said Henry. He leaned on the railing and looked over the crowd. The shadows cast by the torches below hollowed out his thin face, making it into a death mask. Suddenly, Thomas could see the soldier that the older student had been, sizing up a battlefield. Henry’s tone was almost conversational. “They have no room to manoeuvre. And the horses will panic if people start throwing bottles down on them. Stupid to bring them in here.”

“They must have known this was going to happen,” said Thomas. “They should have brought more men.”

“They did,” Henry said. “There were about twenty more in the stairwell.”

“There’s about two hundred of us living here. Did they think they could get us to do what they wanted so easily?”

Henry shrugged. “It worked at the dormitory.”

Thomas shook his head. “The dormitory is filled with boys who aren’t allowed to carry weapons. They must have known this was different.”

Henry straightened up, his eyes and Thomas’s meeting. “Of course, if all they wanted was to keep everyone looking at the courtyard…” He turned back to the apartment. Thomas followed his gaze. George and Eileen were standing in the common room, looking scared. Benjamin was standing beside them, doing up his sword belt with shaking hands. Behind them, the back door stood, bolted but unblocked.

“It’s a diversion!” yelled Henry. “Ben! Block the back door!” He drew his sword, running into the common room. “Run, Thomas!”

Benjamin took one startled look at the back door, then grabbed the table and shoved it hard against the door. Thomas ran for his room, George and Eileen hard on his heels. A loud crash came from the common room. Thomas risked a look back. The door was still shut, Benjamin bracing the table against it. There was another crash of bodies against the door, then pounding and a loud voice shouting, “Open this door, in the name of the bishop!”

“Get out!” yelled Henry, adding his weight to Benjamin’s. “Now!”

Thomas grabbed up his bag and ran for the window. He jumped on the desk, helped Eileen up. “Come on! Quick!”

There was the sound of wood splintering in a nearby apartment, and a startled shout. Eileen went through the window, George right after her. Thomas came through and led them across the flat section of roof at a run. Beneath their feet they heard a scream, then the sound of two hundred voices raised in anger. Horses screamed, dozens of bottles smashed on the cobblestones, and steel clashed against steel.

Thomas desperately wanted to turn back, but knew it would only make the whole mess worse. He reached the northern peak of the roof, climbed up, then shimmied down the other side. He looked back and saw George and Eileen stopped at the top and staring at the sloped roof opposite them and the fifteen feet of space between the two.