Small Magics (2 page)

“Not since this morning.”

“George!” a new, female, and slightly annoyed voice called. “Who’s that you have there?”

They both turned, and Thomas barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping open. “Eileen?”

The girl came closer, peering at him as she did. Her eyes widened. “Thomas?”

Thomas was stunned. The last he had seen, Eileen was a skinny, gangly twelve-year old pest who took great delight in throwing stones at him. Now though, she was a trim young woman. Her red hair, always a tangled mess before, flowed cleanly down her back and her blue eyes sparkled as she watched him taking her in. Thomas was suddenly much more aware of how much of a mess he truly was.

Eileen found her tongue first. “Well, stop staring. People will talk.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Thomas protested.

“Oh, nay,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and doing her best to look offended, “your eyes just locked onto my bodice without your brain taking any part of it.”

Thomas felt a flush begin to rise, and forced it down. “Actually, I was wondering how the same family that produced such a hulking monster could create someone as lovely as you.”

“Listen to you!” Eileen said, keeping her tone the same but starting to flush herself. “Is that what they taught you at that Academy? How to charm girls?”

Thomas smiled. “There are entire courses dedicated to it.”

“Don’t bother,” said George. “The lass spends all her time up at the nunnery. I hear they’re planning to keep her for their own.”

“A nun?” Thomas felt a twinge of disappointment, followed immediately by a larger twinge of embarrassment. He hadn’t even seen the girl in four years, he had no right to be thinking of her that way. “And you not even dressed as a novice.”

“I’ll not be a nun,” protested Eileen. “They’re just the only ones who’ll teach a girl to read and write around here.”

George snorted. “If she had her way, she’d run off and join you lot at the Academy.”

“Thomas?” a very familiar and very nasal voice called out. “Thomas!”

The voice belonged to a long-limbed man riding a short-limbed donkey. So short, in fact, that Thomas was certain the man could touch the ground without dismounting. Thomas waved. “Gavin!”

Gavin, his long, cadaverous frame making him look like a spider riding a beetle, turned the donkey and rode towards them. He had been tutor to Thomas and his brother, Neal, from childhood, and had helped Thomas prepare for the Academy’s rigorous entry exams. When Thomas had gone and Neal was finished his schooling, Gavin had stayed on to handle the family’s business accounts. He was, Thomas recalled, quick and clever, polite to the point of obsequiousness, and his nose dripped incessantly.

George sighed. “So much for any fun we might have today.” He looked to Thomas, “That man never approved of us.”

“He doesn’t dislike you,” protested Thomas.

“George didn’t say he disliked us,” said Eileen. “He just disapproves.”

“Aye, well…” Thomas could think of nothing to say to that except, “True.”

 “He thinks we’re bad company.”

“He’d be right,” said Thomas, grinning. “But not to worry. He won’t stay. The ass you see yonder will be taking me from the fair very soon, I expect.” George raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to ride Gavin’s donkey?” Thomas’s grin widened. “I was referring to the ass riding the donkey.” All three started snickering, then had to stifle it as Gavin pulled the donkey

to a halt in front of them and dismounted—it was a slight reach to the ground, Thomas noted, but not much. The man, who was not young when he had started tutoring Thomas twelve years previously, creaked his way to the ground and took a long moment to straighten.

Once upright, Gavin looked down his long nose at George and Eileen, then turned and bowed to Thomas. “It is good to see you have returned, young master,” he intoned with a sniff. He gave Thomas a short, meticulous examination with his eyes, then sniffed again. The slight downturn of his mouth let Thomas know that he had been assessed and found wanting. “Indeed, your father and mother have been waiting for this day with great anticipation. I imagine they would be somewhat distraught to discover that you have chosen to remain here at the fair, rather than to come immediately home.”

“And how are my parents, Gavin?” asked Thomas, hoping to distract the man. “Sad for lack of your company, I am certain.”
So much for that.
“I only just arrived. George and Eileen spotted me in the crowd.” “Of course,” said Gavin, raising his rather large eyebrows. “It was fortunate

that I had been sent to bespeak wine for your father’s guests tonight, or else I might not have spotted you.”

“Fortunate indeed,” agreed Thomas, doing his best to keep any sarcasm from his voice. He turned back to George and Eileen. “Would you walk with me? If you don’t mind leaving the fair, that is?”

“Us?” George’s tone was doubtful, and the look he gave his sister was

troubled. “Nay, we should not go to your house, I think.” “Why not?” asked Thomas, surprised at the refusal. “What’s happened?” “Nothing new,” said Eileen. George nodded his agreement. “Your dad’s a merchant, my dad’s a smith.” “Oh, by the Four above,” Thomas rolled his eyes up. “Wheel-irons again?” “And axles and everything else they can think of,” said Eileen. “I swear they enjoy fighting about it,” said Thomas. “Aye, usually,” said Eileen. “But this time it got nasty.” “Nasty? How nasty?” “This is not a subject that should be discussed here,” interrupted Gavin,

“especially with Thomas so lately come home.” “Yes it should,” said Thomas. “Nasty, how?” George looked embarrassed. “Your father called ours the worst lying,

thieving excuse of a blacksmith he’d ever seen.” Thomas’s eyebrows went up of their own accord. “And your da didn’t throw him through a wall?”

“He came close,” said Eileen. “But your father stormed out before he could.”

“That’s not like him.” Thomas remembered the various arguments Lionel had had with John Flarety over the years. They had been loud, boisterous, drawn out, and had usually ended with a handshake and a drink. This, though… “What did your father do, then?”

“Cursed your da up and down twice and swore there would be no more work done until the man apologized,” said George.

“After which your da said that none of us were welcome in his home until my da came to his senses,” added Eileen.

George nodded. “Exactly.”

Thomas was aghast. “You must be joking.”

“I am afraid they are quite right,” said Gavin.

Thomas shook his head. “They’ve been friends for years. Whatever’s gotten under my father’s skin, it will pass and he’ll apologize. You’ll see.”

“Aye, surely,” said Eileen. “But until then…”

“Aye.” Thomas nodded. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Right?”

“Tomorrow for sure,” said George. “Not even your father would miss Fire Night.”

Thomas grinned. Fire Night was the culmination of the May festival. The village would build a bonfire, and all the men and women would leap over it. The legend was that each jump brought luck to the village and strength to the earth.

“Ancient superstition at its worst,” sniffed Gavin. “Nothing but a chance for lechery under the cover of darkness.”

Which was more or less true, Thomas had to agree, even as he rolled his eyes. The other belief was that the more couples who spent the night together in the woods and fields, the more fertile they would become. And while there was no proof of that, the lack of it did not stop anyone from participating if they had the chance. It was, Thomas’s father had once said, the single most popular and practiced belief in the region.

George and Eileen were also rolling their eyes, and Gavin waited until all three of them had stopped before saying, “Now, Master Thomas, if you will go?”

“Aye, I’ll go.” Thomas shook hands with George, then bowed with exaggerated courtesy to Eileen. “If I can ever be of service, my lady,” he said, using his best courtly manner, “do not hesitate to ask.”

“Oh, she won’t,” promised George before Eileen could speak. “And like as not she’ll ask you to haul water from the well for her.”

Eileen stuck her tongue out at her brother. “You’ve no manners, you.” She smiled at Thomas. “See you tomorrow, then.”

The two walked away, and Thomas found himself watching Eileen go until Gavin sniffed noisily behind him. “Come, Master Thomas. We should not keep your father waiting.”

Thomas picked up his bag and settled it over one shoulder. “No, we certainly should not.”

Gavin politely offered Thomas use of the donkey, and was obviously relieved when he declined. He kept the donkey to a slow pace, which gave Thomas time to look over the village as they passed through. There had been hardly any changes in the last four years. The streets were the same deep brown earth that filled the fields, instead of the cobbles one found in the city. The houses were still mostly wattle and daub construction, with thatch for the roofs. The old tower—built on a hill overlooking the town two hundred years before to watch for raiders—was still the tallest structure in the village, and its rough, weatherworn grey stone walls still looked ready to fall down at the slightest breeze.

Despite the lack of change, the village looked prosperous. The houses were well cared-for, the roofs and doors in good repair, and all the people Thomas saw were looking healthy and happy. When they came to his father’s warehouses, just outside the village, Thomas saw that two new ones had been built, bringing the total to six. Beyond that, a single path led through a strand of trees to the house.

How his father had managed to make so much money was quite beyond Thomas. John Flarety claimed to have started with one cart and built from there. The story might well have been true, though Thomas was certain there had been money in the family all along. Thomas’s older brother, Neal, shared his father’s zeal for mercantilism and had, since reaching maturity, helped further expand the family’s business. According to his mother’s proud letters, the family had gained control of the cloth trade in three surrounding counties, and was in the process of moving into others.

For Thomas, it was a mystery as to why it was all so important. Of course, given that his father’s mercantile skills were paying Thomas’s way through school, he was not in a position to be judgmental.

If Thomas had had any doubts about the prosperity of his family, the sight of the house, which had been built before Thomas’s birth, was certainly proof enough. Half-timber, half-stucco, after the pattern of newer houses in the city, and set on a solid stone foundation, the Flarety home was easily the largest in the village. It had been kept in near-immaculate condition while Thomas had been gone, and from the looks of it, had been recently re-stuccoed and painted. The low stone fence that surrounded the yard was in perfect condition, and a new building had been added behind the house.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

“For the staff,” said Gavin. “Your father has made many important connections in the time since you left, and has often had to entertain. Even now, your father has several important guests, and room is somewhat scarce.”

Mischief got the better of Thomas. “Does this mean I’ll be sleeping in the barn?”

“Certainly not!” Gavin looked appalled, and Thomas did his best to hide his smile. It wasn’t good enough. Gavin’s eyes narrowed, and he waved one long, skinny arm in the direction of the open front gate and sternly said, “Go home, Master Thomas.”

“Yes, Gavin,” said Thomas, giving his old tutor the same courtly bow he’d given Eileen. “I thank you for the escort.”

The front gate—freshly painted in green, Thomas noticed—was wide open, and the stone path to the door was swept clean. Thomas was about to step through when the front door opened. A thin, rather handsome woman with a basket on her arm stepped out. She caught sight of Thomas and stopped dead.

A moment later, a man a few years Thomas’s senior stepped through the door and nearly knocked her down.

The woman stared at Thomas, and Thomas grinned back. A moment later, she let out a joyous, wordless cry, dropped the basket and started running towards him. Thomas started running himself, leaving Gavin to sniff in a self-satisfied way behind him. She met Thomas half-way and enveloped him in a huge hug.

Thomas, laughing, tried to hold her with one hand and keep the hilt of his sword out of the way with the other. “Aye, Mum, it’s me.”

Madeleine Flarety squeezed her son tighter, and kissed him hard on the cheek. “By the Four, Thomas!” she said, scolding and laughing at the same time. “You’re as thin as a twig! Did they not feed you at the Academy?”

“They did, Mum, they did!” he assured her, still laughing. “I just spent more time studying than I did eating.”

“And more time carousing than either, I’ll warrant,” chimed in his brother, Neal, stepping up and clapping him hard on the shoulder. “I’ll bet you have stories to tell!”

“A few,” Thomas admitted. He held up a hand to forestall his mother’s cry of disapproval. “But first I need to get myself settled and have a bath and a good meal.”

“You certainly do!” She stepped back and held him at arm’s length. “My word, look at you! Your hair’s a tangled mess, your clothes are in tatters and…” She stopped and raised her eyes slowly to her son’s. When she spoke again, her tone had changed, and not for the better. “Thomas, what are you wearing at your waist?”

Thomas prayed silently to the Four for mercy and said, “My rapier, Mother. And the dagger that goes with it.”

“I read that you won them, but what in the High Father’s name are you doing wearing them? Nobody wears swords, Thomas!”

“Nobody
in the country
wears swords, Mother,” corrected Thomas. “Lots of people in the city wear swords.”

Madeleine Flarety looked appalled. “Not merchants, surely!”

“I’m not a merchant. I’m a student.”

“Your family are merchants, and we don’t wear swords!”

“Mother…”

“You’ll attract the worst sort of company wearing that!”

Thomas started to explain how wearing a sword could also keep the worst sort of company away, but the door opened again and Brian, the family’s oldest servant and master of the household, stepped out and bowed to Thomas. “Excuse me, but your father has requested that you meet him in his study at once.”