True Magics (19 page)

10

Someone banged hard on the apartment door, dragging Thomas out of sleep. The sky outside the window was dark, though not black, as if the sun was trying to shine but the clouds were refusing to let it through. Thomas sat up and pulled on his breeches as the banging continued. He grabbed his rapier and stumbled to the door. “Who is it?”

“King’s messenger! Open in the name of the king!”

Thomas blinked a few times hoping to get his brain going. Henry came out of his room, looking annoyingly well rested and also holding his rapier. Thomas spared a moment to hate him and opened the front door. It was the same messenger who had escorted them to the palace, only this time he wore no livery. Instead, he held up a ring emblazoned with the king’s seal. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “Thomas Flarety is to accompany me.”

“Ugh,” was Thomas’s reply. “Give me time to get dressed.”

“Quickly please,” said the man. “And bring your rapier, if you would.”

“I was planning on that last bit,” muttered Thomas.

If the weather was anything to go by, Malcolm’s prayers to the Daughter for rain were most emphatically being ignored. The temperature had dropped in the night and snowflakes were swirling in the air. The cobbles were slippery with ice and the footing treacherous. To Thomas’s surprise, the messenger was on foot, and led Thomas
away
from the palace. Thomas, munching on leftover pastry as he walked, kept his cloak open at first, hoping the cold air would wake him up. Instead, he started shivering. He wrapped the cloak around himself and tried hard not complain.

The messenger stopped beside a small cluster of warehouses. “There,” he said. “Up those stairs.”

“Really?” said Thomas, not at all certain of what was happening. “I’m meeting his Majesty here?”

“You are,” said the messenger. “In the hall above.”

Hall?
“All right, then.” Thomas went up and knocked at the door. It was opened at once.

“Thomas!” said Sir Walter with a smile. “Excellent to see you. Come in.”

On the other side of the door was a long, narrow fencing hall, with a high ceiling and windows dotting the length of it. Four braziers lined the space, and a fireplace was crackling in one wall. Practice blades, fencing jackets and masks lined one wall. Two men in livery were standing to one side while Sir Walter watched the king drilling by himself on the fencing floor. Guards were placed around the room. Thomas stared at it all, open-mouthed.

“Ah, Thomas,” said the king. “Excellent. Come join me for a warm up, will you?”

Thomas took several moments before he gathered the wherewithal to say, “Of course, your Majesty.”

One of the guards stepped between them and held out his hand. Thomas gave the man his weapons and hung his robe and cloak on a hook near the door. Another guard presented him with a fencing jacket and practice rapier. Thomas took them and shrugged into the jacket. “Whenever you are ready, your Majesty.”

They ran through the parries and cuts and footwork, blades flashing the air and feet moving across the fencing floor, slowly at first, then faster and faster. “Excellent work,” said the king after a quarter of an hour. He was sweating and breathing heavily. He stood up out of his fencing position. “They told me that you practised this way every day in Frostmire.”

“Most every day.”

“Fencing every morning is a good habit,” said the king. “It used to be my habit, in fact, but that was many years ago. I’d given it up as I got busy with being king.” He smiled at Thomas. “It is a very busy job, Thomas.”

“I can only imagine, your Majesty,” said Thomas, wondering where all this was leading.

“Fortunately, being king, one can also declare some time for oneself. How was Eileen’s first day as a girl?”

“Rough,” said Thomas. “Only one professor let her into class and a brawl broke out in it.”

“Unfortunate. Do you think they’ll change their minds?”

“They’ll have to if we can get her accepted into the Academy,” said Thomas.

“And do you think you can do that?”

“We’re doing our best.”

The king nodded. “And you walked out of fencing class yesterday.”

“Your Majesty’s knowledge is impressive,” said Thomas, wondering who told on him.

“Insulting a fencing master is not wise, Thomas,” said the king.

“Wisdom has been escaping me lately, your Majesty.”

“That does happen to the young,” said the king. “Gentlemen, if you would?”

The servants and guards bowed and left the room. When they were gone, the king asked, “How goes the search for magic, Thomas?”

“Not well, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “We had no luck two nights ago at the docks, though we did stop a man from being beaten up. Last night I went to a merchant’s party. He’s a follower of the Daughter.”

“There are several,” said Sir Walter. “Which one did you speak with?”

“Malcolm Bright,” said Thomas. “He invited me to attend his party so I could meet ‘others who were similarly blessed.’ Turns out he wanted me to share my magic with his congregation.”

“And did you?” asked the king.

“I didn’t show him any magic, your Majesty. But I don’t think that’s what he meant. He meant ‘share,’ as if I could give part of my magic to them.”

The king’s eyebrows rose. “Can you?”

Thomas shook his head. “I don’t think so. Anyway, he told me none of his followers have magic.”

“No luck at all, then,” said the king. “What will you do, now?”

“I don’t know, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “Keep looking.”

The king nodded. “Find them quickly, Thomas,” he said. “I should like to know who the magicians are in my city sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”
And where am I supposed to look?

“And how was your visit with the Archbishop?” asked Sir Walter.

Do they know everything that I do?
“Nerve-wracking. He brought Father Alphonse with him.”

“Interesting,” said the king. “What did Culverton want to talk about?”

“My renouncing all witchcraft in the Cathedral on the High Father’s day and accepting the penance the Church gives me so that others might not follow my bad example.”

“I see.” The king smiled. “I take it you did not?”

“No, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “I told him I was under your command, not his.”

“I assume he didn’t like that.”

“I think not,” said Thomas. “Though he did invite me to speak with him at any time, and promised me safe return home if I did.”

“Very interesting,” said the king. “If he should come to see you again, do send me a message at once.” He gestured to the hall around them. “Since you are no longer fencing at school, this is now your fencing hall. Sir Walter will be your instructor, and you come here every morning after the first bell. Do not be late.”

“Uhhh… Yes, your Majesty.”

“And now, if you will excuse me,” the king went to the door. “Find me the magicians, Thomas. Quickly.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” said Thomas, bowing low. Once the king was gone, Thomas straightened and turned to Sir Walter. “I don’t suppose you have an idea of where I could find some magicians?”

“None at all,” said Sir Walter. “Now, let’s see what you can do.”

For the next hour, Thomas fenced, fought with daggers, and wrestled with Sir Walter. The man had a very different style than Thomas. Sir Walter moved soundlessly across the fencing floor, despite his heavy boots, and made Thomas practice to do the same. He showed Thomas how to kill a man from behind with a dagger and several ways to end an unarmed fight quickly whether one’s opponent was armed or not. By the time Sir Walter called a stop, Thomas was both impressed and horrified.

“Time for you to be on your way,” said Sir Walter, at last. “Keep an eye out in the streets. We’d like to know what the preachers are up to, as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you have an urgent need to contact me, there is a stable near the Green Griffon. Ask for the stable-boy Percy and tell him you have a message for Merchant Gwilliam. I will meet you here as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thomas spent the walk home huddling in his cloak and wondering what he was going to do next. He had barely stepped through the door of the apartment when Henry pounced on him, demanding to know what had happened. Thomas grabbed his book bag and promised to answer when they got to Eileen’s house.

George was actually wearing a shirt in deference to the cold and damp when they arrived at the smithy. He raised an eyebrow at them. “You lot came home late last night, didn’t you?”

“But we did come home,” said Henry. “I’d have thought you’d be pleased.”

“You didn’t have to wake Eileen,” George pulled a long piece of steel—a wheel-iron—from the forge and began shaping it on the anvil.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Eileen said, coming down the stairs. She was dressed to go, and had her rapier at her side. She also had dark circles under her eyes, and her face was red and blotchy, like she’d been crying.

“I take it you told him about the posters,” said Henry.

“Yes,” said Eileen, glaring at her brother.

George kept pounding on the wheel-iron, his face bright red with heat and anger.

Thomas stepped closer to George, ignoring the heat from the forge. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the Church was going to do that.”

George’s hammer came down wrong and with such force that it bent the steel in the wrong direction. In disgust, George shoved the wheel-iron back into the coals.

“If it was up to me, I’d take her home to Elmvale,” said George, “where she’d be safe instead of sending her out with you lot.”

“It’s not up to you,” snapped Eileen. “It’s up to me!”

“Not that she’d listen,” said George, as if Eileen had not spoken at all. “She never listens. Not to me, not to Mother and Father back home, never!”

“Mother and Father have nothing to do with this!” shouted Eileen, “And don’t you dare tell them!”

“I’m not going to tell them!” George tossed his hammer onto his workbench and glared down at his sister. “I’ll not have them worried to death like when you ran away! But I’ll not have anything happen to you, either!”

“Nothing will happen to me!” Eileen stomped her foot in frustration. “I’m not stopping just because of a stupid poster.”

“It’s not just the posters! Those stupid lords were here as well!”

“What?” Thomas, Eileen and Henry chorused.

“They came marching down the street as cool as you please, right up to my forge!”

“By the Four,” said Eileen. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“When have I had the chance?” George picked up the wheel-iron in his tongs, looked it over and shoved it back into the forge. “They stood outside the doorway, talking loud enough for the whole street to hear. Said how nice the place was, and how well I must have made out by helping kill Lord Richard. And what a wonderful, charming, friendly girl my sister was. And how much they had enjoyed her company in Frostmire!”

Eileen went white. “I’ll kill them.”

“Well, you can’t,” said George. “Because when I told them to go away or I would break all their heads, they showed me a little scroll with the king’s seal on it, forbidding them to fight, or anyone to fight with them!” He rounded on Thomas. “And you know as well as I do that they’ll break that rule the first chance they get. And that’s why I want Eileen out of here!”

“George,” Eileen’s words were slow, and anger flickered like flame behind each one. “I did not run away from them in Frostmire and I am surely not going to run away from them here!”

“Of course not,” said George. “You don’t run away from anything. Even when anyone with brains would!”

Eileen breathed in deep and looked ready to explode. Instead, she grabbed her book-bag and stomped out the door.

“Aye, go on with you!” George yelled after her. “You won’t listen to me, so go!” He poked angrily at the fire then growled at Thomas and Henry. “And you get out of here, too!”

George picked his hammer up and turned his back on them. Thomas tried to think of something to say, but George’s eyes were on the steel and his body was hunched with anger. Thomas knew anything he said would be ignored or start a fight. He turned and followed Eileen, Henry on his heels.

They caught up to her a block away from the forge. Eileen was still stomping. Thomas walked beside her, but didn’t reach out to take her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Eileen. “None of this is your fault.”

All of it is my fault,
thought Thomas, but left it alone. Instead, he told them both about his meeting with the king that morning.

Henry whistled, impressed. “The king has you training with his chief spy? That’s interesting”

“They want me spying on people,” said Thomas. “It makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” said Henry. “You’re not training with just any spy. You’re training with his chief spy. That means it’s important.”