Small Magics (55 page)

Just after the sun passed noon, George spotted a fishing village with an inn. Part of Thomas didn’t want to stop, but he was sore and tired and hungry and had no doubt his friends were feeling the same way. The horse beneath him was moving more slowly, and the other mounts were also showing signs of fatigue. Reluctantly, he let George lead them off the road to the inn.

A stable boy came out and greeted them, offering to water their horses. The three dismounted and Thomas discovered at once that he was much more sore than he had believed possible. The walk into the inn was painful and slow, and one glance at the hard wooden benches and chairs was nearly enough to make Thomas rebel. They eased themselves into the seats and accepted large bowls of fish stew and cups of ale. Conversation, which had been limited to groans before the food came, faded entirely. For the next little while, there was no sound save the occasional smack of lips or spoon rubbing against bowl. Too soon, however, the meal was finished. Tempting though it was to linger, Thomas rose to his feet instead, and led the group out of the inn.

“How much further are we riding today?” asked Eileen, rubbing her backside.

“Until it’s dark,” Thomas replied, watching her hand. Eileen realized what he was doing and stopped, sticking out her tongue. Thomas smiled back, reached over, and rubbed a hand up and down her back. Eileen groaned and leaned into it. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and kept going.

“That’s nice,” said Eileen. “But it’s not the bit that really hurts.”

“And don’t even think of rubbing that,” said George from behind them.

“Spoilsport,” muttered Eileen, though not loud enough for her brother to hear.

Thomas smiled and let her go. To George, he said, “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Lying scholar,” said George, though there was no real energy in it. He shook a finger at his sister, “And you, behave.”

Eileen snorted. “This from you.”

Thomas felt slightly relieved, listening to them. If George and Eileen could mock each other, then they weren’t feeling too badly. It wasn’t much, he knew, but at least
something
was normal.

“Never mind me,” said George. “I’m your brother. It’s my job to keep him from pawing you.”

Eileen smiled at her brother. “A good thing you weren’t on the roof yesterday, then.”

George’s eyebrows went up at that, but before he could say more, the stable boy came out with their horses. Eileen went immediately to her horse and mounted.

“We’re too tired,” said Thomas to George’s glare. “Hit me later.”

“Hey!” Eileen called from atop her horse. “Are you going to stand there all day, or will you be getting on your horses and riding?”

“We’ll ride,” said Thomas taking hold of his horse’s saddle and pulling himself up with a loud groan. George smiled at the other’s discomfort until it was his turn to do the same. After that, it was wincing all around as the three headed off down the road, moving at the same ground-eating canter that had so damaged them before.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Every step of the horses became a test of willpower. Even at a walk the movement of the horses pounded tender flesh, leaving all the riders to wince and groan and bear it as best they could. Once they left the fishing village behind they saw no sign of people along the road. To one side of the road, rough hills dotted with groves of twisted trees rolled over the landscape. On the other, the land sloped into pebble beaches and low cliffs leading to the sea.

Supper time came and went, and while they stopped to let the horses graze for a bit, there was nothing for the riders. They could only mount and keep going, watching the sun growing lower in the sky as they rode.

After another hour, George threw up his hands. “That’s it,” he announced. “I’m done.”

He pulled his horse to a stop and, with a groan, stood in the stirrups. The rolling hills around them held only low, lush vegetation, and made it impossible to see a great distance in any direction, save out towards the sea. What trees they saw were distant and no less twisted than the rest they had seen. None of them would provide good shelter. George looked thoroughly disgruntled when he sat back down. “Unless anyone has any better ideas, I say that we call it a day and camp here.”

“If we camp here,” said Thomas, “we’ll be seen by anyone that rides by.”

“And who is going to ride by?” asked George, gesturing at the emptiness around them. “The bishop’s guards?”

Eileen snorted. “The way our luck’s been going? Yes.”

“I’d just rather not be out in the open,” said Thomas.

“We could hide,” George suggested hopefully.

“We could. The horses can’t,” Thomas argued, though more than anything he wanted off the animal and onto the ground. “We could make ten more miles before dark.”

“Aye, we could,” Eileen agreed. “Come on, George, just a few more miles.”

“All right,” George sounded not at all happy, “but we’re stopping at the first inn we find.”

“Agreed.”

Thomas put his heels into the horse’s sides and led them down the road once again. The horses were tired, but still faster than the three friends could have managed on foot. The sound of hooves on the road filled their ears, broken only by the call of gulls and the noise of the surf. They rode five more miles up and down hills and through small copses of trees, one of which looked nearly comfortable enough to sleep in. Thomas thought long and hard about stopping there, but let it alone. Finally, they topped a rise and were greeted by the sight of another small fishing village on the edge of the sea, with a very large inn whose sign proclaimed it to be the Sea’s Edge.

“Thank the Four,” said George, eyes raised to the sky. “I thought we were going to be riding all night.”

They kicked their heels into the horses’ sides. The tired animals sped up without protest, sensing the stables ahead. The three galloped down the hill and over the final half-mile. They entered the inn yard just as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

A stable boy who’d been dozing on the stairs rose to his feet and held out his hands for the horses’ reins. Thomas tried to dismount and discovered that the muscles that had been sore at lunch were now stiff and aching. Neither of his friends looked to be any better off. It took a long time for all three to get down, and many groans, curses, and complaints accompanied the act. At last, they handed over the reins and headed for the inn.

The inn was larger than most and much better appointed. Thomas guessed that the inn served as a stopping house for merchants and nobles who travelled to the town where the bishop kept his summer house. They opened the big oak door and stepped inside to the most welcome sight of all: each of the chairs inside, and even the benches, were all cushioned with fabric. They all breathed sighs of relief and headed for a corner table with four chairs around it.

A woman appeared only moments after they gratefully and gingerly seated themselves. With a smile on her face and good humour in her voice, she welcomed them, informed them that her name was Harriet, and offered them their choice among roast beef, chicken, potatoes, bread, cheese, apples, pudding, and ale. Without hesitation, Thomas told her to bring some of everything, and then asked about rooms.

“Well, there is the common room, of course,” said Harriet, “and we have some private rooms available.”

“Can we get private rooms?” Eileen asked Thomas. “Please? It’s been a long time.”

Thomas had been ready to suggest they share, but the look on Eileen’s face was hard to resist. He turned to George.

George shrugged. “It would be nice to sleep alone.” He smiled at his sister. “Get away from Eileen’s snoring.”

Eileen rolled her eyes, but refrained from stating the obvious. She turned back to Thomas. “Please?”

Thomas saw the plea in her eyes and caved. Eileen hadn’t had a room to herself since they started the journey, and being stuck with him and George all the time couldn’t be easy. Beside which, Thomas was also heartily tired of George’s snoring. “All right. Three private rooms, it is.”

“And a bath,” added Eileen. “Not a stand-up one, but a proper one, if I can.” Thomas and George exchanged a glance of amusement. She caught it. “It wouldn’t do you two any harm, either, and it might get some of the aches out.”

“Nothing like a hot bath for that, Miss,” agreed Harriet.

“Anything that can loosen the muscles, I’m for,” said Thomas. “Is it possible?”

“Oh, aye,” Harriet nodded. “We’ve got a proper bathhouse behind the buildings. We get so many travelers, you see, and there’s nothing like a bath to make time on the road seem better. We’ve got water to wash with if you just want to clean up, and proper tubs to soak in, if it’s a long soaking that you need.”

“It is,” Eileen said, fervently. “With lots of hot water.”

“It will be dark, though,” Harriet warned.

“I’ll bathe in the dark,” said Eileen.

“Or we could get candles,” suggested Thomas.

“We can have candles set out,” agreed Harriet, “though it will cost some.”

The need to mind his money—the result of four years of relative poverty— welled up in Thomas. He thrust it aside.
A lot of good a full purse will do if we’re caught,
he thought. “Just add it into the price of the rooms. Three baths—”

“Three?” said George, shaking his head.

“It would do you good, too,” said Eileen, sniffing the air around him.

“In the morning it will do me good. Tonight, it will drown me.”

“Baths for two tonight, then,” said Harriet. “And one for the morning.”

“Umm…” Thomas turned to Eileen. “Is that all right with you?”

“Aye, it is,” Eileen’s tone was somewhat less sure. “I mean, we can take turns.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of room,” said Harriet. “You can both go at once.”

Thomas watched the blush go up Eileen’s face, felt it rising in his own. George saved both of them from having to say anything. “I’ll not be having them bathing together.” He declared. “We have enough troubles.”

“Troubles?” Harriet looked from Thomas to George, then back to Eileen. “Isn’t he your brother?”

“Nay, the great lug here is my brother.”

“And the great lug will have this one’s ears if he does anything untoward,” George growled, tossing a glare at Thomas for good measure.

Harriet laughed. “Not to worry. The baths have curtains between them. You’ll be quite private.”

“That will do for me,” Thomas said. “Will it do for you?”

“Aye,” Eileen said, relieved. “It will.” She looked at her brother. “Will it do for you, or are you going to stand guard?”

“I’m too tired to stand guard,” growled George. He glared at Thomas. “Just behave yourselves.”

“Right.” Harriet smiled at the three. “I’ll get the water heating as soon as dinner’s on the table.”

“We’ll need a good breakfast in the morning as well,” said Thomas. “Can you put it together with the price of the room?”

“I will,” Harriet promised. “I’ll give you the tally with the first course.”

“Thank you.”

She went away, and conversation lagged among them. They were all too exhausted to talk, and no one had anything new to say. Harriet came back a moment later with the first course of bread and cheese and told them the cost of it all. It was rather impressive, and Thomas would have argued the price had he not been so tired. Instead, he let George pay her, and the three dug into the food. They devoured the first course at once, and ate the rest as quickly as it appeared. The food was probably excellent, but all three were eating too fast to comment. For his part, Thomas hardly tasted it. It wasn’t until the last plate was cleared that anyone had anything to say other than a request for the passing of a plate or the pitcher of ale.

“I meant to ask,” said George, “did you have a plan when we rode out of the city?”

“Same as before,” Thomas said. “Find out what the bishop’s up to. Stop him. Benjamin said he was heading south, so there’s got to be something there.”

“How are we going to stop him?” Eileen asked. “I mean, if he’s got all his guards …”

“I don’t know,” Thomas rubbed at his face, trying to scrub away some of the exhaustion. “I’ll read the books and try to figure out something.”

“Too bad we can’t read his books,” said Eileen.

That
gave Thomas pause, and a blazingly obvious solution. He shook his head.
I should have thought of it sooner.
“I’ll steal his books.”

“What?” George’s mouth stayed hanging open at the end of the word.

“It makes sense,” said Thomas. “He has to have books. I can’t think that pulling a person’s—” he caught himself, then leaned close and lowered his voice. “I can’t think of what he does as being his gift. He had to have learned it somewhere.” He leaned back in his chair and thought about it. “If we steal his books, it might stop him. Or at least let us know what he’s doing.”

“And all we have to do is get past his guards,” George pointed out. A huge yawn took him. “The thought alone makes me tired.”

“Excuse me,” Harriet came to the table. “We’ve got water heated and fires going under the tubs, if you’re ready.”

“I’m for bed, then,” said George, rising slowly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harriet first showed them where their rooms were, then led Thomas and Eileen out the back of the inn. They walked stiffly behind Harriet across a small court to the bathhouse.

It was a low-slung affair, with a gently sloping roof and thick stone walls with narrow windows just below the roof-line. Inside, a good sized stone hearth stood against one wall, with a fire crackling within and a great kettle sitting on top, steaming. There were a half-dozen large stone baths against the outer walls, each easily big enough to seat two comfortably, and quite deep. Two of them, side-by-side, were full of steaming water. Washtubs were on the floor beside them, with buckets of water—also steaming—for rinsing, and stands with towels and soap. Candles were set into niches in the walls, and long swathes of thin fabric hung from rods on the ceiling, separating the baths.

“I set them up together so you can chat while you’re washing,” said Harriet.

“If we can manage conversation,” Thomas looked to Eileen. “Which one do you want?”