Small Magics (63 page)

The room, large enough in truth, grew larger in Thomas’s mind, and crossing to the bed took forever. Every step he took on the thickly carpeted floor was silent, and still he was certain that on that bed, behind the curtain, the bishop was sitting, waiting for him to pull back one of the panels. The thought of being in that man’s hands again nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he put the fear aside and kept moving. At last, he was touching the curtains. Gently he ran his hands along them, searching for an edge to one of the panels. His fingers stumbled on an opening in the fabric. He was holding his breath, he realized, but didn’t dare exhale until he

knew for certain. With a sudden move, he pulled the curtain back.

The bed was empty.

The air left Thomas in a rush.
Of course the bishop isn’t home. If he’d been home, his guards would be all around the house, and Randolf would be sleeping at his feet.
The bed was still made up, as if no one had ever been there. Thomas cursed softly and thoroughly and turned back to Eileen. “He’s not here. No one’s here.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

“Search everything.”

“Should we be careful?” asked Eileen, “I mean, should we make it so he doesn’t notice he’s been searched?”

“I don’t think we can,” said Thomas, turning his attention back to the bed. “Just try not to make too much noise.”

Thomas searched under the bed, under the pillows and blankets, and even under the mattress. There was nothing. He swore again and turned his attention to the stands on either side of the bed. They were both locked, but yielded easily enough to the tip of his dagger. One held papers, none of which had any magical properties as far as Thomas could see. The other was empty.

Eileen had covered half the room by the time he’d finished. Thomas joined her and together they went through the rest. Nothing turned up.

“Do you think he has it in a secret panel?” asked Eileen.

“I doubt it,” Thomas said. “I think the books are wherever he is.”

“And where do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.” Thomas took one last, disgusted look around the room. “Let’s get out of here.”

George and Henry were still in the other room. It was, as Thomas had thought, the bishop’s office. The two had gone through every drawer in the desk, had opened all the cabinets and had even taken the pictures off the walls in case there was something behind them. Thomas shook his head at the mess. “Well, he’s certainly going to know we’ve been here.”

“There’s no sign of anything,” Henry said. “The papers we could read are all about land purchases and tithe collection. There’s nothing in the cabinets except liquor and books and more bloody papers on the same thing.”

“Books?”

“Aye,” George said, pointing. “Have a look. Maybe you can see something.”

“Maybe,” agreed Thomas. “In the mean time, straighten this place up as best you can. With luck he won’t notice anything immediately.”

“Where is he, anyway?” asked Henry.

“I don’t know.”

Thomas went through the books. They were ledgers. He went through every one, just to be certain. By the time he finished with the last, the other three had straightened the room into some semblance of order.

“Now what?” whispered Eileen, sitting down on the edge of the desk.

“We get out of here,” said George. “There’s no saying he won’t be back any moment.”

“He’s probably got them with him,” Thomas felt anger and disappointment welling up inside of him. “Come on. We’ll get back to Benjamin and figure out something.”

Down the hallway they went, then down the stairs to the first floor. Their footfalls, silent on the carpets above, echoed on the hardwood floor. Thomas, now certain the house was empty, didn’t bother slowing down or trying to be quiet. He led his friends to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. The yard was empty. He opened the door wide and looked around.

“Look,” Thomas gestured Henry forward and pointed up the road. “They’re coming back.”

Chapter 31

The others crowded around the door and peered out. A dozen torches, shining like red fireflies, swarmed up the road.

“They won’t see us,” said Henry. “They’re too far away.” He looked again. “But they’re riding fast. We need to move.”

Thomas led them out of the house, moving fast and and quiet and cursing the bishop with every step.
Where is the man?

The yard was empty, and there was no sign of anyone alive. The chapel was still glowing red to his eyes, and another paler light flickered at the windows.

Candlelight.

Thomas stopped dead and was nearly knocked over by Henry, who was hard on his heels. “The chapel!”

“Get moving!” snapped Henry. “They’re coming!”

“But the bishop’s in the chapel!” protested Thomas.

“It’s too late!” Henry grabbed his collar and started to drag him. “Get out of here before you get us all caught!”

The words were just out of his mouth when one of the riders sounded a horn, then sounded it again. On the second sounding, someone in the stables cursed and called for someone else to bestir his lazy self.

“Run!” hissed Henry. “Now!”

The stable doors were flung open, and a half-dozen rough-looking stable hands stepped out. Both groups froze, staring at the other.

“RUN!” shouted Henry, drawing his rapier and dagger. Thomas did the same and George lifted his thick walking stick. The stable hands moved to block them, shouting, “Help! Thieves! Help!”

The torches coming up the road burst into a whirl of flame and sparks as the riders pushed their horses to a gallop. Thomas and his friends tried to go around the stable hands, but the men blocked them. Henry and Thomas swung their rapiers to drive them back, but couldn’t clear a path.

The doors of the chapel swung open and torchlight flickered yellow over the yard. A half-dozen soldiers spilled out. Randolf, wearing his customary black and with his rapier in hand, was leading them. He spotted Thomas and grinned.

The bishop stepped into the doorway. “Who dares—” His eyes widened when he recognized Thomas. “Capture them!” He shouted. “Catch them all! Alive! Now!”

There was no time to think. George let out a bellow and charged the stable hands, swinging his stick with furious accuracy. The swordsmen charged in and Henry and Thomas faced off against them. Blades clashed, flickering yellow in the torchlight. Henry deftly ran one of his opponents through the thigh and shoved him against another. Thomas fought his way forward, dodging the soldiers’ blades and cutting open one man with his own.

“Leave that one! He’s mine!”

Thomas turned and Randolf was upon him.

Thomas’s world was instantly reduced to the flashing steel before him. The man was incredible. Thomas was nearly skewered a half a dozen times and he backed away as he fought, looking for an escape. He could see the four remaining guardsmen surrounding Henry, driving him back towards the stable wall. George was fighting furiously against the stable hands, and three of their number lay bleeding on the ground. Thomas couldn’t see Eileen, and the riders were now charging towards the yard.

Randolf stayed on him, driving him backwards. Thomas parried and thrust as best he could with both his blades, but the other man was far quicker. A cold panic gripped Thomas’s belly. He wasn’t going to win. He redoubled his efforts and got driven back again.

A piece of horse dung flew past Thomas’s shoulder and directly into Randolf’s face. The man stumbled back. Eileen, standing behind Thomas, lobbed another one, catching him in the face again.

“Come on!” she screamed, shoving Thomas towards the stables. Thomas ran with her towards the wall, cutting open the ribs of one of Henry’s opponents on the way and thrusting into one of George’s from behind.

“Run!” shouted Thomas, but his words were drowned in the thunder of hooves as the rest of the bishop’s guard charged in. The four ran for the wall but the riders blocked them, forcing them back against the side of the stable. Thomas shoved Eileen behind him, and the three men faced outward, weapons forming a bristling guard.

In the field beyond the wall, Thomas glimpsed streaks of blue-white light and red-brown; Benjamin, riding hard towards them with the other horses in tow. Then the riders surrounded them, blocking off the view. The bishop’s men looked tired and grim in the torchlight.

Across four of the saddles, small bodies lay firmly bound. Children, Thomas realized, perhaps twelve years old and not moving. Thomas hardly had time to wonder why they were there when Randolf, still wiping horse-dung from his face, snapped an order. Two men pulled the children off the horses and towards the house.

“I told you we should have set the barn on fire,” said Henry, voice shaking with energy and anger. His eyes darted to either side, seeking a way out. “Ideas?”

“Benjamin is out there,” muttered Thomas.

“And if he’s smart he’ll stay put,” Henry lowered his voice to match Thomas’s.

Thomas shook his head. “I saw him. He’s riding this way.”

“Damn fool.”

“Put down your weapons.” The bishop’s voice carried across the yard. “Put them down and I will guarantee you a fair trial.”

No one in the small circle moved. Thomas could see the fear in George and Eileen’s faces, and the grim determination in Henry’s.

The circle of horses shifted, and the bishop stepped forward. His eyes were on Thomas. “Surrender,” he said. “And I’ll let your friends live.”

The bishop glowed deep red and black to Thomas’s eyes.

Thomas had not thought it was possible for black to glow, but Bishop Malloy radiated a darkness that was deeper than the night around him and strong enough to absorb the light of any who happened to be standing close enough. There was victory in the bishop’s voice and a cold, hard glitter in his eye. Thomas looked into his eyes, and knew as soon as they dropped their weapons, his friends would be killed.

Hatred blazed up in Thomas, white hot and impotent against the blades levelled on them. They were badly outnumbered, by soldiers whose friends they had wounded or killed. Any fight was going to go very badly for them. From the smile on the bishop’s face, Thomas could see the man knew it. They were going to die.

Unless…

He dropped both his blades to the ground behind him and stepped forward.

“Thomas!” Eileen yelled, horrified.

She tried to grab at him, but George held her back. Thomas kept walking, spreading his arms at his sides, his hands open. The bishop gestured and two guards on foot stepped forward to meet him. Thomas closed his eyes, wrapping his thoughts around the coiled energy inside his body and the simple spell he hadn’t been able to try that afternoon.

He opened his eyes, and lightning spewed from his hands.

The world turned brilliant white and crashed with thunder. The guards about to touch him were flung away. Four horses tumbled to the ground, taking the burnt remains of their riders with them. Two other riders toppled off their mounts. The animals panicked; bucking, rearing, and bolting. Thomas raised his hands and another wave of lightning sprayed out. More men died. Bolts crashed into the stables and house and chapel. Wood exploded outward and the buildings lit up with sudden flame. The stable with its thatched roof blazed instantly into an inferno. From inside the house and chapel, there was a red, smouldering glow. Thomas turned, looking for the bishop. He spotted the man, stumbling away, leaning against his familiar’s shoulder.

Thomas tried to call the lightning again, but the power wasn’t answering. He took a ragged breath, and then turned to his friends. “
RUN!
”

His friends, still half-deaf and reeling from the force of the blast, stared blankly at him. He yelled again and they caught on, stumbling towards the low wall. Henry reached it first, and stayed to help Eileen over before going himself. Thomas tried to chase after them and felt the strength fail in his legs. “George!”

George saw Thomas lose his balance and ran back. A stable hand stumbled in front of him. George knocked the man down with a fist and caught Thomas just as his knees hit the ground.

“I can’t walk,” gasped Thomas.

George tossed Thomas over his shoulder like a fresh-killed deer, then bent down and scooped up the rapier and dagger from the ground.

“Come on, George!” shouted Eileen.

George ran across the yard. Thomas hung on hard as he jolted on his friend’s shoulder. They reached the fence and George vaulted it, Thomas on his shoulder, without slowing down. In the field, Benjamin was struggling to hang onto the frantic horses. Henry, first there, grabbed two sets of reins and held them while Eileen mounted. George caught up and threw Thomas over the back of his horse. Thomas righted himself and took the reins.

“Are you all right?” Eileen demanded, riding up beside him.

“Yes,” Thomas gasped. The weakness wasn’t as bad as it had been before, and he could feel some of the strength coming back to his legs. Thomas wondered if it was actually easier to call lightning than throw a boulder, or if he was just getting used to it.

“Hey!” George shouted. Thomas caught the grips of his weapons as George thrust them towards him. Thomas sheathed the weapons and looked back to the bishop’s yard. The bishop’s stable was truly on fire now, and the house was beginning to catch as well. The men in the yard had dragged themselves into some semblance of order. Two of the surviving stable hands were readying themselves to charge into the barn. The soldiers were starting a bucket brigade. Thomas spotted Randolf, staggering as he dragged his master towards the chapel.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” shouted George as he mounted. “Now!”

Thomas, weary in every bone of his body, wished with all his heart he could agree. “You go. I’ve got to get to the chapel.”

“Don’t be insane!” Eileen snapped. “You can’t go in there!”

“The books are in there,” Thomas said, wheeling his horse around.

“You don’t know that!”

Thomas charged towards the low stone wall. The horse tried to shy away but Thomas kept it on course. It jumped, clearing the fence with room to spare. Thomas drove the animal across the yard, ignoring the shouting and stumbling bodies around him. Randolf saw Thomas riding directly at them. He shoved the bishop’s semi-conscious form to one side and jumped the other way. Thomas ducked his head low and charged into the chapel.