Cold Magics (45 page)

“And yourself,” lied Thomas. He looked over the man’s shoulder, “and Inquisitor Alphonse as well.”

The inquisitor smiled at Thomas. “Likewise.”

“I am glad to see you attending dinner,” said the envoy. “The last time I was here you were not present.”

“I know,” said Thomas. “But if you will excuse me, there is a certain person to whom I must speak.”

“I trust we will have a chance to speak later this evening?” said the priest.

“Of course,” said Thomas.
Unless I can possibly avoid it.
Thomas walked around the envoy to George, Baron Goshawk and Eileen. George looked uncomfortable in blue embroidered jacket and pants, the badge of the white wolf gleaming on his chest. Lord Goshawk, walking beside him, was dressed in a jacket of deep red that looked surprisingly good on him and matched Eileen’s outfit perfectly.

Eileen’s dress was a muted orange-red—the colour of autumn leaves, freshly fallen from the tree—and perfectly complimented her complexion. Instead of complex embroidery or beading, the maker had opted for simplicity, emphasizing the slimness of Eileen’s body. The bodice was cut low and tight, and the dress clung to her figure to her hips before flaring out into the skirt. Her hair, still too short for braiding, had been allowed to lie free on her head, styled to draw the eye to her cheekbones and bright blue eyes.

Thomas, not knowing what else to do, bowed deeply to them all.

“Thomas,” said Lord Goshawk. “How are you this evening?”

“Well, now that I have friends here,” said Thomas. “Eileen, you look stunning.”

“And you look very black,” said Eileen. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Henry made me captain of the students’ company.”

“A captain?” repeated Baron Goshawk. “I’m sure you’ll lead them well.”

“I’m sure I’ll lead them into a mess without some instruction,” said Thomas. “I’ll be talking to Lord Henry about that tonight.”

“Thomas!”

Thomas managed to school his expression plain before turning to greet Amelia. She was dressed in a deep blue dress and on the arm of a lord Thomas had not yet met, though he recalled him from the brawl. Her parents were a few paces behind.

“Thomas!” Amelia repeated. “How splendid you look in black, though it seems rather dour for such a celebratory night. Have you heard? There’s another two dozen students up from your Academy.”

“I heard,” said Thomas. “In fact, I spent the afternoon getting to know them.”

“Which is a pity,” said Amelia, “because it looks as if Baron Goshawk beat you to escorting Eileen to the banquet. Not that it would be appropriate for a commoner to escort her, but still, I imagine you would have preferred it. And Eileen, how splendid you look. That colour would suit so few women. And your hair! Who managed it?”

“Lady Prellham’s hairdresser,” said Eileen.

“Well, she is rather impressive, then. And Thomas, have you met Lord Steven?”

“Not formally,” said Thomas, bowing. “Lord Steven.”

“Scholar,” said Steven. “Lord William says that’s the title you are using.”

“Captain, now,” said Thomas. “As it seems I am to lead the student company.”

“Oh, how marvellous!” said Amelia. “William knew Steven wanted to meet you, so I offered to bring him over.”

“And did you earn this title the way you oversized friend here earned his knighthood?” asked Steven.

The words were said blandly, without change of tone, and with the challenge obvious. Thomas saw George going slightly red out of the corner of his eye. “I’m afraid not,” said Thomas. “Sir George earned his knighthood in service of Lord Henry and the duke of Frostmire. I was merely appointed because I know the students.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s more to you than that,” said Amelia. “After all you were brought here by Henry before they were, so he must have some use for you. Now Lord Steven, we really must get back to our table. My parents are chafing at our slowness.”

Her parents were doing no such thing, Thomas knew, but the move was enough to forestall anything more that Lord Steven might say. The young lord unwillingly followed Amelia’s gentle lead and let her turn him toward the main banquet hall.

“Did Amelia just stop a quarrel from starting?” Eileen asked.

“I think she did,” said Thomas. “Which is something she is quite good at, I’ve noticed.”

“I have noticed also,” said the baron, “though she is equally good at encouraging them.”

“Wonder why she did it?”

“Because before the banquet is not the time to have a quarrel,” said Baron Goshawk. “Far better to have altercations during the dancing, when fights can be considered part of the entertainment.”

Thomas followed Amelia and Steven’s progress to her table. Lord Cormac joined them, speaking to Steven and shooting glances towards Thomas and his friends. The two men spoke briefly, and Steven bowed to Amelia and William, then followed Cormac to the other young nobles and spoke with them. More heads turned and more glances were cast in Thomas’s direction.

“I would have thought that these young men would have more to do.”

“One would think that,” said Lady Prellham from behind them. “Unfortunately, it is rarely true.”

“I believe the duke is coming,” said Baron Goshawk. “We should take our places.”

They moved together to their tables and Thomas watched the room as others did the same. Amelia and her escort and parents sat together with many nobles and merchants Thomas remembered as being in the king’s faction last time. The other young lords were together in a group, save a few who were escorting ladies and sat with them. The envoy and his inquisitor were sitting at a table between Richard’s supporters and the king’s.

Thomas and his friends moved to Henry’s section which was, as always, the smallest. Tonight most of the knights and their wives were there, as well as several merchants and, to Thomas’s surprise, Baron Gallen and his wife and eldest daughter. The man nodded at Thomas but didn’t get the chance to speak. A wave of motion flowed through the hall as the guests got to their feet and turned to the door. Duke Antonius and his sons entered the hall. Sir Lawrence was once more only a pair of steps behind Henry, and likewise a pair of knights trailed each of the other sons and the duke. Once the duke and his sons mounted the raised platform with their table, the knights all stepped away to their own tables.

“Friends,” said the duke. “I thank you for joining me this night. There is great cause to feast this night, for the troops we have asked for from the king have come, along with many others, including a company of students from the Royal Academy. They heeded Henry’s call for help, and have brought themselves north to aid us. The captains of each company dine with us tonight, and the soldiers of each company—and indeed, all companies in the city—have been given leave to celebrate this reinforcement of our troops, as we prepare for spring and the destruction of the enemy!”

A murmur went around the hall. Thomas wasn’t the only one to notice the words “prepare for spring” in the speech and certainly not the only one to disapprove of them.

“Our enemy is dangerous,” said the duke. “He is implacable, and he is ruthless. But he does not have the strength of arms that we have, and come the spring we will ride out, find this enemy, and destroy him! Therefore, let us be of good cheer, let us eat, let us drink, and let us be merry, and though our merriment, let the enemy know that he cannot cause us to despair!”

Another murmur circled through the room, accompanied by louder cheers from the young men, polite applause from the merchants and nobles, and a cheerful bellow from the duke’s knights. Father Roberts, Thomas noticed, merely nodded his head.

The duke clapped his hands and stacked platters of food began making the rounds of the room. Thomas watched them come. “He’s very generous with the food,” said Thomas.

“He should be,” said Patrick. “There is plenty in store.”

“Enough to last the winter?” asked Thomas, “With a thousand or more extra mouths to feed in the city?”

“Sixteen hundred or more,” said Baron Goshawk, “If you include the new troops.”

“Of course, they brought food with them,” said Rowland.

“Do you really believe he won’t do anything until spring?” asked Patrick’s wife. “I have heard him say it, but I cannot believe that he would wait.”

“I can,” said Patrick. “He hopes the winter will leave our enemy starving, and that come the thaw we can ride him down and destroy him.”

“A good plan,” said Rowland.

“A safe plan,” grumbled a merchant. “Meanwhile, the enemy is eating our grain and the cattle they’ve taken.”

“The tribes always were fond of cattle meat,” said another merchant—Cecily’s father, Thomas noted.

“It isn’t the tribes,” said Patrick. “We’ve all fought them. They’re armed wrong for the tribes.”

“Maybe,” said the merchant, “but who else could it be? There’s none to the west that would attempt such a thing, now that Lord John is marrying that girl.”

“Lise, daughter of Duke Reaver,” said Rowland.

“Yes, her,” said the merchant. “If not the tribes, then who?”

“Wouldn’t we all like to know,” said Rowland.

The duke clapped his hands again, and the room instantly stilled. “Father Roberts,” he said. “Would you honour us with a proper prayer before dinner?”

This should be interesting
, thought Thomas as Father Roberts rose to his feet. After a moment’s pause, he bowed his head. The rest in the room followed suit. “High Father,” began Father Roberts, “We ask your blessing on the food, on those who provided it, and on those who cooked and served it. We ask that we may be given strength from it to face the enemy, and to destroy them in your name.” He paused, and for a moment Thomas thought he was going to get off lightly. “Let your strength shield us against those who would use forces against your law,” he continued, dashing Thomas’s hopes, “and let your power shine through for your true followers. High Father, our thanks.”

The rest of the crowd repeated the last words in a rumble that filled the hall. Servants brought trays of food and wine out on the heels of the priest’s words, and soon the entire room was filled with the sounds of eating and conversation.

At Thomas’s table, Patrick was enquiring after Rose’s progress as Eileen’s maid, and Rowland was quizzing George about the names of the nobility present. Eileen was full of compliments and George was not doing so well. Thomas did his best to keep quiet and ate his food, painfully aware that the amount each of them were served could have fed a man for a day or more. Thomas kept shovelling it in anyway. If the famine were to come, having a few extra pounds on his frame would do him no harm.

“And what has been keeping you busy, Thomas?” asked Bethany. “We have not seen you at dinner.”

“Looking for magic, I hear,” said one of the merchants at the table. “Found any yet?”

“And where did you hear that?” asked Rowland.

“Rumour going about,” said the merchant. “Has it that Thomas here is searching for the secret to the magic that the invaders have.”

“Interesting rumour,” said Rowland, looking nervous.

Head on is the best way
, thought Thomas. “It’s true,” he said, bringing raised eyebrows from George and Eileen. “Lord Henry asked me to come north to help him discover the source of the raiders’ magic. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen any raiders except the group that attacked us, and they’re all dead. So I’ve only been able to look for references in books to things that might match what is happening, and talk to people who lived through the attacks to find out what happened.”

“And how does that help?” asked another merchant.

“If we know what the enemy is doing, it’s easier to defeat him,” said Patrick. “Good thinking, lad.”

The merchant snorted. “We know what the enemy is doing,” he said. “He’s terrorizing the countryside while our soldiers do nothing.” He looked at Thomas. “And why you? Why not the inquisitor Father Roberts brought? Seems odd to me.”

The inquisitor wouldn’t know magic if it bit him
, Thomas thought.

“He does have some experience,” said Patrick. “If you remember the incident in the South with Bishop Malloy?”

“I do remember,” said the merchant. “Shameful, a bishop doing witchcraft. Lord Henry was nearly gaoled for the whole mess.”

“Nearly,” agreed Thomas, remembering the month he had spent in jail.

“And you were with him, were you?” the merchant shook his head. “Bad business. Is it true the bishop was sacrificing virgins to the Banished?”

“Children,” said Eileen, her voice soft and haunted. “He was sacrificing children.”

Silence fell over the table, and Thomas could read the memory of the dead child in Eileen’s face, even as he saw the small body in his own mind. Baron Goshawk’s eyes went from one to the other. “I had not heard that.”

“George,” said Bethany, breaking in before the merchant could open his mouth to speak, “now that you are a knight of the Order of the White Wolf, we must find you a suitable young lady.”

George looked immediately discomfited, and Patrick laughed. “I believe he already has one such in mind,” he said, “if my understanding about you spending your evenings at a certain merchant’s home are to be true.”

George protested while the others laughed, and Thomas sank back into his chair, eating his food and thankful for the change of subject. The conversation stayed light for the rest of the meal, guided by the knights who got themselves into raucous discussions over horses and hawks and who made better armour. The merchants talked some of business and more of their sons and daughters. Eileen, George and Thomas were mostly silent, answering the conversational sallies put out to them, but not having much else to say until the last plates were cleared and the cups filled for the toasts. Baron Goshawk sat back in his chair and said, “So, which of the young lords do you think it will be?”

“Which one do we think will be what?” asked Eileen.

“The one who starts the fight with Thomas or George.”

“A fight?” Eileen’s looked horrified. “You must be joking!”