True Magics (28 page)

“A seeker,” answered Robert. “One who would learn the mysteries.”

“And what mystery does he bring us in exchange?”

“He taught me how to light a candle using my talent,” said Robert.

“That’s not possible,” said another of the cloaked ones, his voice sounding much younger. “Magi… the mysteries can’t be taught!”

“Silence,” said the deep-voiced one.

“It’s true,” said Robert. “I’ll show you.”

“Whether or not it is true,” said deep-voice, “if he cannot show his mystery, he cannot be a true seeker.”

“Are you going to speak like this the whole time?” Thomas asked. “Because I do have to get back soon, and if you’re going to talk about me like I’m not here, this is going to take a while.”

“The seeker does not speak,” said the cloaked man. “The seeker shows.”

“And what is it that the seeker shows?” asked Thomas.
Because there’s no way I’m going to show you my magic.

“Silence! Show!”

“No,” said Thomas. “Not to six figures in the dark who can see my face when I can’t see theirs.”

“If you wish to learn the mysteries…” began the figure.

“I’m not here about mysteries,” said Thomas. “I’m here about magic. And I’ll wager I know a fair amount more about it than you do.”

The room was completely silent. Thomas looked at Robert. “Did I say something wrong?”

Robert looked embarrassed. “We don’t speak of magic here.”

“The seeker must be silent! The seeker must show his talent!”

“You’re asking me to put my life in your hands,” said Thomas. “You already know who I am. I’d rather see your faces first.”

“If the seeker has nothing to show,” said the deep-voiced man at the head of the table, rising. “This meeting is at an end.”

By the Four…
“I am Thomas Flarety, son of John Flarety, merchant of Elmvale, Student of the Royal Academy of Learning and Captain of the Academy’s Expeditionary Company. I trust my reputation precedes me?”

“Rumour proceeds you. But rumour is not mystery.”

“Neither is wearing a hood and sitting in a dark room,” snapped Thomas. “I haven’t seen anything that shows me
you
have ‘talent.’”

“You are the seeker, not us.”

“I’ve introduced myself,” said Thomas. “And you are?”

“We do not give names upon first meeting,” said the deep-voiced one. “We ask to be shown the mystery, then decide if the seeker is worthy of our company.”

“What makes one worthy of the company?” said Thomas.

“You have to be able to contribute,” said Robert. “That’s why I brought you.” He turned to the group. “He has already contributed. I can show you!”

“Contribute what?” said Thomas.

“To the breadth of our knowledge,” said another one in a cloak and hood—a woman, judging by the voice. “We are a learning group.”

“Learning what?” asked Thomas. “How to do more?”

“This is not proper!” said the man at the head of the table. “We should not be saying so much!”

“But since you are, you might as well keep going,” said Thomas, putting on a smile.

“We will not! You have not proven worthy!”

“Oh, by the Four, what more do you want?”

“Proof.”

I can’t give you proof.
“Why don’t you let Robert show you what I taught him and then decide from there?”

“The mysteries cannot be taught!” exclaimed the deep-voiced one, slapping his hand on the table. “Man is born with his gift from the High Father. To do more is to give one’s soul to the Banished.”

“No it isn’t,” said Thomas. “To call on the Banished for power, to strike a bargain with them,
that
is giving one’s soul to the Banished. Not that I think it’s possible,” he added. “In fact, as near as I can tell, outside of the records of the Church there has been no evidence of anyone giving their soul to the Banished or performing a successful ritual to summon them.” He stopped, suddenly remembering something he’d read in the church records. It was something about the word
witchcraft
…

“The mysteries can be taught,” said Robert. “Thomas taught me how to light a candle. I did it, too!”

The other man’s voice became more irritated. “It goes against everything this order believes!”

“I thought you were a learning order?” asked Thomas. “How can you learn more if you don’t try new things?”

“About the mysteries!” exclaimed the man. “Not about congress with the Banished!”

“There is no congress with anyone!” said Thomas, exasperated.

“I can show you,” said Robert. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a candle. “Watch!”

“Not with him here!”

“I want to see,” said a woman.

“And I,” said another.

“I think we all should,” said the woman. “In fact, I think we should have a vote on it.”

“It is against our principles!” insisted the man at the head of the table.

“But it’s a chance to learn more,” said the young one. “Please, Father?”

Father? Well, now I know something, anyway.

“I still say we should vote on it,” said the woman.

“Whether we do or not,” said the deep-voiced one, “we should not be discussing it with one present who is not a member. Please remove him.”

“Shall I wait outside the door?” asked Thomas.

“Let him wait,” said the tall woman. “If we decide that we do want to learn more, I should like to begin tonight.”

“And me,” said the young one.

Thomas bowed slightly. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Perhaps Robert can light another candle for you,” Thomas suggested as Robert opened the door. “It’s rather dark in here.”

Thomas stepped out the door and heard Robert close and lock it behind him. Thomas pressed his ear against it, but the wood was too thick and the people inside speaking too quietly for Thomas to make out more than the occasional bark of “We do not do such things!” and “Why not?” and “Then let us vote on it!”

Thomas gave up on listening and leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, waiting. It was a quarter of an hour later when the door opened and Robert stepped out. He wasn’t smiling.

“I’m sorry,” Robert said. “Unless you show magic, they can’t let you join.”

Oh, by the Four…
“That’s problematic.”
Henry would have handled this so much better.

“Do you not… I mean,” Robert blushed. “I thought you could do magic. The stories said you threw lightning.”

“Yes, well…”

“So why not show us?”

Because one of you may work for the Church. Because the king said not to do magic. Because I don’t want to be interrogated again. Because you might not be the only one watching me.
“Did you show them the candle?”

Robert shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Show them,” said Thomas. “And then maybe they’ll listen.”

“Show them yourself,” insisted Robert. “Right now.”

Thomas shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll talk to you later.”

Robert walked him down the stairs and out the door, and Thomas heard the click of the lock after Robert closed it behind him.

Thomas walked a half-block until he found a place where he could stand in the shadows and still keep an eye on the other door. It was cold, but at least the rain had stopped. He wrapped his cloak tight around himself and tried to keep warm as he waited.

It was another hour before the door opened again. One at a time the people from the meeting slipped out into the night. It was too dark for Thomas to see anyone’s faces, and even though he could see the inner light of each person, it was nothing that would help him know who was who. Finally, one person stepped out who was the approximate shape and size of Robert. Thomas followed him.

Remembering his lessons from Sir Walter, Thomas tried to move as quietly as possible and kept far enough back that his footsteps would not be easily heard. Robert—if it was Robert—didn’t notice him. The man moved quickly through the streets, intent on getting home as soon as possible. Thomas had trouble keeping him in sight and still keeping his distance.

It took them an hour to cross the city, from the warehouse district to one of the more affluent merchant areas. Robert—Thomas had seen his face in the torchlight from a tavern—picked up his pace. The man finally stopped in front of a bakery, pulled out a key, and let himself in. Thomas waited in the shadows for a good while before he walked up to the bakery.

The Pie and Tart, the sign announced. Robert Smithson, Proprietor.

It’s not much,
Thomas thought,
but at least I know where one of them lives.

16

Thomas forced himself out of bed at the first bell of the morning and stumbled blearily through the streets to his fencing class. It was the day they were going to present the petitions.
And given how things are going, that will probably fail as well.

He tried to shake his bad mood, but didn’t manage it by the time he reached the fencing hall. Sir Walter was already inside, running through sword exercises by himself. He stopped and smiled when Thomas came in. “And how did yesterday go?”

“Badly,” said Thomas. “I attended a meeting of magicians where I failed to see any magic.”

Sir Walter frowned. “Then how do you know that they were magicians?”

“Robert took me there,” said Thomas. “He owns the Pie and Tart in the northeast section of the outer city, by the way. I followed him home last night.”

“That was well done, at least,” said Sir Walter. “Why didn’t they show you their magic?”

“Because I can’t show them mine,” said Thomas. “Because the king told me not to in case any agents of the Church see it!” Thomas rubbed his face. “Apologies, Sir Walter. It was not a good day yesterday. And today is the day we deliver the petitions. I am somewhat worried.”

“We can find the others through him if we have need.” Sir Walker picked up a pair of wooden knives. “I find knife work the best for settling one’s mind.”

An hour and a fresh set of bruises later, Thomas walked with Henry to George’s smithy. Eileen was pacing back and forth, muttering to herself. George was half working, half watching his sister, and doing his best to not look amused. “About time you got here,” said George. “She’s about to explode.”

“Thomas!” Eileen ran to him and hugged him. “It’s petition day! What did the magicians say?”

“Magicians?” George looked at his sister. “What’s this about magicians?”

“Thomas met with the magicians of Hawksmouth last night,” said Eileen.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t feel like getting yelled at,” said Eileen, tartly. “Were they really magicians? Did you learn anything new? Did you tell Sir Walter?”

“I don’t know. No. Yes,” said Thomas. “And how are you?”

“I’m a wreck,” said Eileen. Her eyes were wide, and there was a slightly frantic look about her. “It’s petition day!”

“I know,” said Thomas, trying to sound calming without sounding condescending. He hugged her. “It will all be all right, I’m sure.”

“What’s this about the magicians?” demanded George.

“You don’t want to know,” said Thomas. “Remember?”

George drew himself up, hurt clear on his face. Thomas ignored it. “We have to get to the Academy,” said Thomas. “It’s not a day we want to be late.”

“I know,” Eileen squeaked. She immediately covered her mouth. Around her hand she mumbled, “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about,” said Henry. “We come together, we deliver the petition, it goes to council, and everything goes quiet until we present our arguments at the council meeting.”

“What if it doesn’t go to council?” asked Eileen. “What if they reject our arguments?”

“They are required by Academy tradition to consider at council any petition which has the required number of signatures,” said Thomas. “King’s rules.”

“What if we don’t have the signatures?” Eileen asked.

“We do,” said Thomas. “I’m sure of it.”

“What if…”

“Enough!” said George. “There’s no sense worrying about what hasn’t happened. Get yourself to the Academy, and deliver your petitions. You’ll be all right.”

“You sure?” demanded Eileen.

“No,” said George. “I’m not. I don’t know what’s going on there and I don’t know what they will say. But I do know that they’d be damn fools not to take you, and that these two wouldn’t steer you wrong about the Academy.”

Henry looked at Thomas. “That’s the nicest thing he’s said about us in a while.”

“Don’t get used to it,” growled George. He looked at his sister. “It will be all right, you’ll see.”

Eileen hugged her brother. “Thanks, George.”

They went on their way. The crowd around the preacher was larger this morning, and his ranting louder and more raucous. There were new posters up and some new graffiti as well.