True Magics (42 page)

“This,” said Thomas, opening his hand toward the law students in the Guildhall behind them. “We’re going all over the city trying to help everyone, including your mother and father.”

Claudine’s hand flashed out, smacking Thomas in the face hard enough that lights flashed in his head. He blinked his eyes clear and saw Eileen pulling Claudine away in an arm lock George had taught her.

“You could do more!” Claudine yelled. “You know you could!”

Linda and several other women helped Eileen take Claudine away. George came out of his forge, his thick walking stick in his hand. He watched the women hauling Claudine to Master Gatron’s house and looked at Thomas. “Went after you again, did she?”

“Aye,” said Thomas, rubbing his face.

“What did she mean, you could do more?” asked Master Smith Gatron.

“He knows Claudine’s mother and father,” said George. “I think she hopes Thomas can get them out sooner.”

“It seems to me you’re doing a great deal.” The Master Smith watched Claudine struggle and sighed. “The young lady is distraught. Otherwise she would appreciate what you are doing.”

“Cavalry!” yelled one of the patrolling smiths. “There’s cavalry coming!”

“Marcus, William,” said Thomas, “get everyone together, fast!” William dashed inside the Guildhall. Marcus ran for the students standing guard at the other end of the street. Thomas sprinted toward the smiths. “Eileen! With me!”

Eileen was already running and met him as the cavalry came around the corner.

There were six of them in full Church colours, with swords on their belts and armour under their livery. They rode up to the group of smiths blocking the street and tried to ride through. The blacksmiths, not at all afraid of the horses, grabbed the bridles of the first two, making it near impossible for the others to pass.

“You let my horse go or I’ll cut off your head, you hear me?” shouted the first cavalryman in a thick, guttural accent. He drew his sword. The smith holding the man’s horse let go and jumped back. The soldier rode forward, kicking out at the man with his boot as he did. “Get back you Son-worshipping bastards! I’ll gut you where you stand and send you to the Banished!”

Thomas and Eileen drew their rapiers. From behind, Thomas heard yelling and running feet. He glanced back and saw George and the entire Student Company coming. The three lawyers stood at the door of the Guildhall, weapons in their hands.

“Smiths and students.” The soldier spat on the ground. “The Son worshippers and unbelievers together. Fine. Listen to what I have to say.” He pulled a scroll from his cloak, unrolled it and read loudly. “Let it be known that, in order that Hawksmouth be cleansed of all false worship and witchcraft, the Church of the High Father calls upon the faithful of the city to come to church, or to the cathedral, this High Father’s Day. There, they will kneel and swear their allegiance to the High Father in all things, and above all others!”

“We’ve sworn our allegiance to the king,” said Thomas. “Not the Archbishop!”

“The king answers to the High Father,” the soldier said, looking down at Thomas. “And he will come to heel, just like you Academy scum.”

“The king will not come to heel!” William yelled. “Long live the king!”

“Shut up, boy!”

“Your message has been delivered,” said Master Smith Gatron from behind them. “Now go.”

Thomas looked back and saw that the street was filled with men carrying hammers and iron bars. All of them looked more than ready for a fight. The soldier sneered down at the Master Smith, but turned his horse and led his men away.

“This is bad,” said Michael. “Very bad.”

“Aye,” said Thomas. “Master Gatron? I’m sorry for what happened here, both last night and today.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” said Gatron.

“You have friends at the Academy,” said Thomas. “Hopefully we can get your people out soon.”

A half-hour later, with no more dispositions to get, the company formed up and moved out, the lawyers once more in the middle.

“That was a bit worrisome,” said Michael as they walked away from the Street of Smiths.

“More than worrisome,” scolded Eileen. “I thought we were going to have to fight.”

“Me, too,” said Thomas. “We need to start wearing our armour, if we’re going to keep doing this.”

“Good idea,” said Michael. “I’ll spread the word.”

Several blocks from the Academy, they began to hear chanting. It grew louder and louder the closer they came. Thomas ordered the company to halt before they reached the last corner. He went ahead, Eileen beside him, and looked.

The street in front of the Academy was filled with men and women—at least a hundred of them—throwing rotting vegetables over the Academy walls. The gates were shut and there was no sign of the guards. “Down with the scholars!” was the crowd’s chant. “Down with the unbelievers!” In the midst of them, a preacher stood high on something, egging them on.

Thomas and Eileen went back to the troop and told them.

“Well, that’s bad,” said Michael. “Now what do we do?”

“Is there another gate?” asked Eileen.

“Only the small one, and they’ll see us there, as well,” said Thomas.

Someone whistled, loud and long, behind them. It was another student, waving them over. Thomas led the troop to him.

“Henry’s got us together,” the student said. “In the next square over.”

Thomas and the company followed him to the square. All the students that had gone out were assembled. Henry saw Thomas and waved him over.

Thomas went to him. “What’s the plan?”

“We push through them and get into the Academy,” said Henry. “Not sure how we’ll get out, after, but first we have to get the depositions in. How did you do?”

“Got eight,” said Thomas. “Three from the Street of Smiths, four from outside, and Claudine’s.”

“Good.” Henry raised his voice. “Company leaders, to me!”

Ten more students joined them, forming a loose circle.

“We need to get inside, we need to deliver our depositions, and we need to do it without killing anyone,” said Henry. “We’re going to march in. Eight wide, lawyers in the middle. No one is to draw any weapons. Period. The people out there are unarmed.”

“Except for rotting vegetables,” said one.

“Getting rot on you won’t kill you,” said Henry. “Draw a sword and that mob will come back with weapons. Then we’ll have real troubles.”

“We don’t already?” asked another.

“No, we don’t. Yet,” said Henry. “We march until I give the word, then we charge, Fight with fists if you have to, but
no one
is to draw a blade. Tell everyone. Thomas, your company goes first.”

Henry led them around the square and several blocks away to get them marching in time together. Then he led them to Academy gate. When they were in sight of the mob, he yelled, “Now!”

As one, the students stomped their left boots onto the cobblestone street, two hundred fifty feet hitting the ground in unison. The noise of it echoed through the streets. The people at the back of the crowd heard it first, saw what was coming and spread the word. The mob at the gates fell back.

Thomas, at the front with the Student Company, forced his breathing steady and his face to be expressionless. The distance between the two groups closed and Thomas could see fear and anger on the faces of people in the mob.

“Look at how they dare profane our streets!” shouted the preacher at his crowd. “The unbelievers dare walk through our city as if they are the ones who own it. As if their actions aren’t the reason this city has fallen into disrepute! Show them our scorn! Show them what we think of them!” He seized a cabbage and hurled it. It fell short, splatting into the street with a burst of green and brown leaves and stench.

The mob let out a roar and vegetables started hurtling through the air.

“Charge!” screamed Henry. The students ran forward, driving into the mob and splitting it apart. Some of the crowd were shoved to the side. Others were knocked down and trampled. The initial rush, with the weight of the two hundred students behind them, carried them two-thirds of the way to the gate. From there it became a fight. Students and city-folk pushed and threw fists at one another. Several students were hauled out of the column and into the crowd. Others rushed out and fought the mob to get them back.

At the front of the column, a man twice Thomas’s size tried to grab him. Thomas kicked the man’s knee and punched him in the face. The man staggered back and another dove forward, hands stretched out in claws. Thomas caught one of the man’s arms and twisted until he heard something snap. The man fell, screaming. Thomas stepped on him as he went forward. Someone punched Thomas in the nose. He lashed back, striking out near-blindly as his eyes watered.

By the time they broke through the crowd, Thomas was bruised and bloody and his robe was torn. Thomas pounded on the gates, screaming “Open up! It’s us!”

The little viewport in the gate opened and a shocked gatekeeper peered out. A moment later the doors swung open and the students poured through. Some stumbled and fell. Others grabbed them and kept them from being trampled underfoot.

“Who’s missing?” demanded Henry. “Company leaders shout out! Who’s still outside?”

“Jimmy Talbot! He’s not here!”

“Hubert’s gone!”

“Frederick and Owen!”

Master Brennan’s shout rose above the others. “Get out of the way!” The students threw themselves to the side as the Fencing Master led two dozen students armed with staves through the gate, swinging as they went.

“Hold the gate!” shouted Henry. Thomas and the company and dozens of others lined the gate, ready to drive off anyone that tried to break in.

The Master Brennan and his students fought their way to the clusters of men who were beating the students, and lashed out with their staves. Some of the townspeople tried to fight back and were battered unconscious. The students grabbed their comrades off the ground and retreated back to the gate, swinging their staves at anyone who came near. Henry ordered the others to back away as the Fencing Master came through. The mob, nursing their wounded, didn’t follow, and the gatekeeper swung the gates shut and barred them.

“By the Four,” said Eileen. “That was bad.”

“Who isn’t hurt?” demanded the Fencing Master. “Who’s still walking? Line up and take a staff!”

Thomas and the others who hadn’t taken too much damage lined up. Master Brennan and four students passed out staves until a hundred of them stood armed and ready.

“We clear the street,” said Master Brennan. “We catch that damn preacher if we can. Anyone who fights gets brained. Anyone who runs we don’t chase, except the preacher. Got it?”

There were nodded heads and calls of “Yes, sir.”

“Open the gates!”

The gates swung in and the students swarmed out. Most of the crowd ran, some got blows to send them on their way. A few tried to fight and were battered to the ground. The preacher stayed on his box until it was clear the mob was breaking. He jumped down and tried to run, but a dozen students chased him down and beat him unconscious. They dragged him back face down through the blood and rotten vegetables that lay strewn on the street.

The Fencing Master sent groups of ten to each corner outside the Academy gates with orders to call for reinforcements if another mob came. He ordered the priest bound and then sent Thomas and the rest of his company to get the city guard. “And don’t be afraid to draw, if someone tries to stop you.”

They ran, and returned with a squad of the city guard. The guards were appalled at the mess in the streets in front of the Academy, and their leader looked more than a little upset at the condition of the preacher. The man had regained consciousness, but was bound and gagged and could do no more than whimper. He had a bloody gash in his forehead and bruises welling up all over his body.

“Was it necessary to beat him so badly?” asked the leader of the guard.

“Look around,” said the Master Brennan. All over the common students sat on the cold, wet grass or leaned against walls. Most looked like they were in shock. Some were angry and paced back and forth, muttering under their breaths. Others were barely holding in tears. “He got what he deserved.”

The Watch looked doubtful but dragged the man out.

Soon after, the Headmaster came out and declared classes over for the day. He urged them all to be careful going home. “Take off your student robes whenever you have to walk in groups of less than ten. And go nowhere unarmed. We want no more incidents if we can avoid them. All those who escorted our lawyers today will need to do likewise tomorrow. Nothing will come between the people of this city and the king’s justice.”

Thomas leaned over to Michael. “Armour and uniforms, tomorrow,”

“Yes, Captain,” said Michael, and went to tell the others.

25

The first bell of the morning rang and Thomas once more stumbled out of bed. He’d slept in fits and starts, the night plagued by dreams of the violence and bloody battles mixed up with the riot. The sky outside his window was just changing from black to dark, dark blue.
Another sign spring is coming,
he thought as he splashed cold water from the jug on his face. He winced as it hit his bruised cheek and nose.