Cold Magics (18 page)

“And meanwhile the enemy goes through our land at will,” said Henry. “We’re giving them free rein to scout the entire duchy. And our neighbours.”

The baron shrugged. “Not my plan, Lord Henry. Your father seems to think that we need to regroup.”

“And do we?” asked Henry.

The baron sighed. “We have had losses, and the magic is terrifying. We’re prepared as well as we can be, but it’s hard to fight an enemy that won’t stay still.” He drank some of his cider, puckering his lips and shuddering as the alcohol sank through him. “Harder still when the enemy is aligned with forces beyond this world.”

They aren’t from beyond this world
, thought Thomas wearily. He didn’t bother saying anything. He was beginning to feel the effects of the magic, now. The shakiness that he’d felt on the ride was settling deep into his body, leaving him feeling as if his bones had been chilled. The exhaustion was coming again as well, and Thomas was sure he wasn’t going to keep his eyes open much longer. The stew and cider helped, but not much.

At least it’s stew
, Thomas thought.
After the fight, I don’t think I could stomach meat on the bone.

“My thanks for your hospitality,” said Henry, rising. “I know we are unexpected, and eight guests are no easy thing in the middle of winter. I believe I speak for us all when I say that we would be most grateful for a warm night’s sleep.” He turned to his men. “I am turning in. I suggest the rest of you do the same. It will be a long ride tomorrow.”

The knights rose and bowed as Henry walked out. Thomas and his friends followed suit.

***

Halfway through breakfast, a man in the baron’s livery stopped by their table.

“Lord Henry, a troop of men has arrived at the gate. Baron Bellew asks that you join him on the wall.”

“How many?” Henry asked.

“Twenty, my lord. Church soldiers.”

Thomas felt his heart sink.

Henry looked grim. “Everyone, get ready to leave.”

Thomas shoved another spoonful in his mouth and ran to their room to get his blades and coat. He met Henry at the door and followed him out into the cold morning.

The view from the top of the battlements confirmed Thomas’s fears. There were twenty soldiers on horseback, dressed in the church’s livery. Each man carried a sword and shield, and each had a crossbow across his back. Three others, dressed in the robes of the priests of the High Father, sat in their midst. One of them was shouting up to the battlements as Henry and Thomas arrived.

“We are servants of the church,” he was saying. “We have ridden far, and wish only a stable for our horses and an inn for ourselves.”

“If you are who you say you are, you are welcome,” said the baron, “But the High Father’s church has not sent soldiers north for a hundred years.”

“They have sent us,” said the man. “You hold the writ in your hand!”

“Think they were the ones who ambushed us?” asked Henry, quietly.

“I could see lights, not uniforms.” said Thomas. “The numbers are right, but the ones who attacked us weren’t on horses.”

“Left them behind,” said Henry. “Wanted to capture us, not ride us down.”

Thomas looked over the troop below. One man, smaller than the others, was looking directly up at the battlement. He saw Thomas and, with a quick motion, pulled off his hood.

“That’s the one who questioned me,” said Thomas to Henry, fighting to keep his voice steady. “The priest in the middle on the left.” He stepped back from the wall, but Henry caught his arm and pulled him forward.

“Stay visible,” said Henry. “Show nothing.” He released Thomas’s arm and leaned over the edge of the battlements. “I am Lord Henry, son of the duke of Frostmire. Who am I addressing?”

“Father Roberts,” said the man in front. “Special Envoy to the Archbishop. Come on the High Church’s business.”

“Let me see the writ,” said Henry, holding out his hand for it. The baron handed the paper over and Henry scanned it. Thomas waited, hoping Henry could find an excuse to leave them behind. Instead, Henry closed up the writ and called down. “You will accompany me and my men to Frostmire. We leave within the hour.” Thomas looked down at the inquisitor. The man was staring at him, his eyes narrowed, with something similar to a smile sitting on his lips. Thomas forced himself to stare back.
This man did not break you
, Thomas reminded himself,
and he will not get the chance to try again.

An hour later, Henry and Thomas rode out at the head of the party. George, Eileen, the knights and a dozen of the baron’s men followed behind. They had taken their time getting ready, filling their bellies and straightening their clothes and gear at Henry’s orders so as to look as comfortable, well-prepared, and fresh as possible.

“Have your men fall in behind,” said Henry as he rode past Father Roberts, “then join me at the front of the column.”

He didn’t slow down to hear a reply. Thomas glanced over to see if the bishop would do as he was told. He did, and the church guards fell into line behind the baron’s troops. They looked cold and tired, and Thomas guessed they had been sleeping out for the past few nights.

Probably busy pursuing us.

Thomas turned to Henry. “How is having them with us a good idea?”

“Better than having them behind us,” said Henry.

“Not if they attack us.”

“They won’t,” said Henry.

“And we know this how?” asked Thomas, looking back at their column. The men had now joined in, and were following gamely behind.

“Because my father is the duke of Frostmire,” said Henry. “It’s one thing to attack in the dark—if it was them, which we can’t prove. It’s another thing to attack me in my father’s territory. If they start a fight, Sir Rowland and Sir Patrick have orders to ride as fast as they can to the nearest village and get reinforcements. From there, the word will be spread and they’ll be hunted down.”

Thomas heard the sound of one horse moving faster than the others. He looked over his shoulder and saw Father Roberts riding forward to join them at the head of the column. “My thanks for this opportunity, Lord Henry,” Roberts said when he drew even with them. “It is good to ride out in defence of the faith.”

“If you are here to help against these invaders,” said Henry, “then you come in defence of Frostmire. The faith has very little to do with it.”

“The defence of the kingdom is the defence of the faith,” said Father Roberts. “We have heard disquieting rumours in the South of witchcraft used against the poor souls of this duchy.”

“And yet, you came with so few men,” said Henry.

“We’re a scouting party. If the rumours are true, then we will send word south, and many, many more will come.”

“With the permission of my father, I’m sure,” said Henry.

“Of course,” said Father Roberts. “We would not think of doing otherwise.”

Unless it suited you
, thought Thomas. Out loud, he said, “With your permission, Lord Henry, I’ll see to my friends.”

“Of course,” said Henry. “And send Sir Lawrence up, would you?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Thomas slowed his pace to let the column pass him. He gave the message to Lawrence as he went past, and rejoined his friends at the centre of the group.

“How goes it?” asked George. “They after your soul yet?”

Thomas shook his head. “Give them time.”

“This can’t be a good idea,” said Eileen, keeping her voice low.

“It isn’t,” said Sir Martin, riding directly behind them.

“Henry knows what he’s doing,” said Thomas.

“Lord Henry is making it up as he goes along,” said Martin. “And risking a major asset while doing so.” His look at Thomas left no question who he considered the asset. “Better to have left them behind.”

“He could be right,” said George.

“But it is not his place,” said Sir Patrick, riding up beside them. “Nor yours. Lord Henry has made his decision and we will abide by it. Is that understood?” His glare took in them all, but was centred on Martin.

“Aye,” said George. “We’re abiding.”

“Not if you’re flapping your lips,” said Patrick. “Sir Martin, ride scout with me, please.”

“Of course,” said Martin.

The two knights rode away from the column and broke into a trot, moving quickly ahead of the others. George and Eileen both looked far less than pleased at the scolding. Thomas was feeling the same way, but hoped it wasn’t showing on his face. He knew he had to trust Henry. Even so, he kept looking over his shoulder at the troops behind him as they rode.

The day passed without incidence, to Thomas’s surprise, and nightfall found them at another fortified village, smaller than the first. After a few words from Henry they were admitted. The knight who ruled the village was obviously appalled at the size of the party but did his best to be accommodating. He promised room for everyone, and insisted on feeding the entire group before they went their separate ways.

Henry acquiesced, and they all sat down to a meal of plain food and tense company. The church guards looked down their noses at the knights, who glared back despite being outnumbered four to one. Baron Bellew’s soldiers had no idea why there was tension between the two groups, and they did their best to stay out of the middle of things.

At a small table in the back, Thomas, Eileen and George sat and watched all the groups watch each other, and watched the knights casting surreptitious glances at them.

“This is going to be fun,” muttered George.

“Aye,” said Thomas. “I’m not planning to sleep between here and Frostmire.”

“Good luck with that,” said George, looking over the church guard. “Say, what if we’re attacked again and you have to…”

“Shouldn’t happen with a party this big,” said Thomas.
At least, it better not.

“That priest with them,” said Eileen, “Not Father Roberts; the other one. Why do you think he’s here?”

Thomas found his mouth dry. He swallowed, then said, “He’s an inquisitor.”

“How do you know?” George asked.

It took Thomas time before he could manage to say, “Because he’s the one who questioned me.”

“What did he do?” asked Eileen.

“Nothing,” said Thomas. “Just questioned me.”

“Then why are you acting so funny about it?”

Thomas was about to protest that he wasn’t acting funny when George said with a lowered voice, “He’s noticed us looking at him.”

“Wonderful,” said Thomas.
Just what I need.

“He’s getting up,” said Eileen. “He’s coming over here.”

Thomas forced himself not to look; to keep an indifferent expression when he heard the man’s footsteps approach their table. He stopped beside Thomas.

 “Good evening,” he said. “We have not been properly introduced. I am Father Alphonse.”

Thomas forced himself to look up, to see the eyes of the man who’d left him chained and helpless in that dark cell. Father Alphonse smiled down at him.

“Thomas I know, of course,” said Father Alphonse. “But you two I have not met. May I join you?”

George and Eileen both looked to Thomas, waiting for him to answer. Thomas leaned back in his chair, trying to act casual and hoping the pounding of his heart was not audible. “And why would I say yes?”

Father Alphonse ignored his response and pulled a chair up from another table. “Thomas and I met while he was in the custody of the High Father. I was his inquisitor.”

“We know,” said George. He leaned forward, resting his powerful forearms on the table. Father Alphonse took in George’s size, then glanced back at the tables where his guards were, as if reassuring himself they were in range.

“You must be George,” said Father Alphonse when he turned back, “which would make your small companion Alexander, would it not?”

“It would,” said Thomas before either of his friends could speak. The man would find out “Alex” was a girl soon enough. Thomas found no reason to disabuse him of the notion until then.

“Then you were with Thomas when he killed Bishop Malloy,” said Father Alphonse. “I’ve heard Thomas’s version of events, but I would love to hear yours.”

“Bishop Malloy was killing children,” said George. “We stopped him.”

There was something in the low rumbling tone of George’s voice that made Thomas think of a bear looking at his not-yet-caught dinner. Father Alphonse noticed it too, judging from the slight paling of his face.

“Could you not have stopped him another way?” Alphonse asked Eileen. “Did you really need to kill him?”

“Yes,” said Thomas before Eileen could reply. The inquisitor opened his mouth to ask another question, but Thomas spoke first. “Why are you here?”

“In the North?” Father Alphonse shrugged. “We have heard a rumour of witchcraft coming to the Duchy of Frostmire and we are investigating.” He could have meant the invaders, Thomas supposed, but it was doubtful. “To this table?” Father Alphonse continued. “Well, one should learn who one is travelling with.”

“You know who you are travelling with,” said Thomas. “You have writs for their arrest.”

“And yours,” agreed Alphonse, his voice pleasant. “It was their choice to participate in a murder. They should face the consequences.”

“We already faced the consequences,” said Thomas through gritted teeth. “We were arrested. We were tried. The bishop was declared guilty of witchcraft. We were cleared of any wrongdoing.”

“But that was before we found the books in your apartment,” said Father Alphonse, “Tell me, what did you have to sacrifice to gain your power?”

The life of three friends
, Thomas thought.
My peace of mind and my education.
Out loud, he said, “How is it that you ended up at my apartment?”

The inquisitor leaned back. “How do you mean?”

“All charges were dropped,” said Thomas. “So how is it your lot ended up at my apartment in the first place?”

Father Alphonse smiled again. “You must be relieved to be able to ask the questions.”

“Are you going to answer them?” said Thomas.

Father Alphonse rose from the table. “We will have you again, you know.” He looked over at Eileen and George. “And your friends, too.”