Cold Magics (2 page)

Thomas didn’t make copies of the spells, or take them from their books. He was wary of anything that could directly connect him to what the High Father’s church called witchcraft. Instead, he claimed to have bought them for their contents; to give him better insight into human nature. Those who visited gave him strange looks, but said nothing.

Thomas still had the spell book that he had stolen from the locked library under the theology building, and three books that had belonged to the bishop. The book from Theology was a true spell book, and each word in it glowed with magic. The bishop’s books, by comparison, were half magic and half nonsense. The master carpenter’s book had shown how to make a hiding place for valuables, and Thomas had followed the instructions to the letter, creating a compartment in the wall behind his bed for the books and sealing it with plaster.

Thomas lit his brazier and put the pie and the tart on top of it. By the time the food was warm, the room was warm, too. Thomas fetched his plate and a knife and fork from the cupboard and, rescuing his food from the brazier, sat down at the table.

Someone knocked at the door, and Thomas jumped at the sound. Annoyed at himself, he shouted, “Who is it?”

“Alexander.”

Thomas froze, unable to speak.

“I have to come in. Please.” Thomas stared at the door. “Please, Thomas, I’m cold.”

Thomas shook off his stupor and stumbled over to the door. The girl on the other side was shivering in dirty boys’ clothes that were meant for warmer months, even if she did have a thick cloak over them. Her messy red hair was only partly grown back from when they’d cut it short at the beginning of the summer. Her face was red with cold, and her cornflower-blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. One hand clenched the grip of the rapier at her hip.

Thomas just had time to say, “Eileen,” before she stumbled in and collapsed, crying, into his arms.

***

“I’m sorry,” said Eileen, snuggling closer into his lap and pulling the blanket tighter around them both. It had taken some time before she stopped crying, and still more before she stopped shivering. “I didn’t mean to collapse like that. I just haven’t eaten for a few days—”

“A few days?” Thomas used his free hand and the fork in it to cut a piece of the meat pie. “What happened?”

“I ran out of money,” said Eileen. “I had some from helping at Father’s stalls in the markets all summer, but it wasn’t enough. It was too cold to sleep in the woods and rooms were expensive and no one trusts someone travelling alone. Especially with a sword.” She shook her head. “I walked two days south to Greenwater where we caught the raft last time. I got a raft and paid them what I could and they made me buy my own food for the trip and that was the last of my money.” She took a breath. “I’m babbling.”

“You are,” agreed Thomas. He kissed her still-cold lips. “But it’s very pretty babbling.”

He lifted a forkful of the meat pie and blew on it, then held it up. Eileen let him feed it to her. She sighed. “That is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Thomas took a forkful to taste for himself, then cut another for Eileen. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She took the offered bite, savouring the flavour. “I ran out of food four days ago.”

“Four days?” Thomas decided his own rumbling stomach could just wait, and cut her another bite.

“I found some late season apples, but they were pretty bad, and there was some squash that fell off a farmer’s wagon…” She shivered. “I don’t want to be that hungry again.”

Thomas fed her the rest of the pie, one bite at a time. When it was finished, she sighed and snuggled closer. Thomas wrapped the blanket tightly around them both. Eileen sighed again, her body curving into his. “I have really, really missed you.”

“Me, too,” said Thomas. He held her tight a while. Finally, though, he had to ask. “Is that why you came here?”

Eileen blushed, and squirmed a bit. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Not really.” Eileen sat up straight to look at him. “I mean, I wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t here, but it wasn’t just about you.”

“Then what was it about? Did something happen at home?”

“No, nothing happened,” Eileen sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Nothing ever happened. That was the problem. I had to go back to working with Mother and George didn’t want to fence, and the nuns don’t teach anything except the lives of saints I never heard of and the history of the convent and the Great Mother and gardening and the uses of herbs. I was so bored and I thought, why can’t I go learn something real? Like history and philosophy and math. And I want to keep fencing and I want to know as much as you do.”

Thomas felt his heart going out to her. “I was sending my books.”

“And I brought them,” Eileen said, gesturing at the bundle that Thomas had set by the door. “But they aren’t enough, Thomas.”

Thomas remembered how he had felt when Bishop Malloy had convinced his father not to let Thomas return to the Academy. Not being allowed to learn had nearly crushed his spirit. Even so… “So you came here?”

“I know! It’s so stupid!” Eileen pushed herself off his lap. “I mean, it’s not like they’re going to let me in, is it? But it just got into my head. Maybe I could sneak in like before. Maybe I could attend some classes and no one would know I was there. Maybe I could be the first girl to graduate from the Academy!” She faced him, her eyes glittering with tears. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Thomas rose and went to her. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not!” Eileen pushed him away. “When I came by the first time you weren’t here, so I went to the Academy to ask after you, but of course they wouldn’t let me in and no one knew where you were. And I was standing outside the gates, and I knew they would never let me in. Not really.” The tears began rolling down her cheeks. “No one will teach me anything. I can’t afford to have anyone teach me anything. I got frozen and wet and hungry, and all that will happen is that I’ll have to go back, and Da will kill me!” She turned away, wrapping her arms tightly around her body, her shoulders shaking with sobs and anger. “It was so stupid!”

Thomas went to her again. This time she let him wrap his arms around her and press his chest against her back. “It wasn’t stupid,” he said. “Insane, yes. And poorly thought out. But not stupid. I would have done the same thing.” He smiled. “In fact, I did.”

Eileen freed up an arm to wipe her face with her sleeve. “Aye, but you had money.”

“Aye, but I was wanted for murder.”

“True.” Eileen sighed again, and some of the tension left her. “By the Four, I’ve messed up everything.”

“Not everything,” said Thomas. “I got to see you six months early.”

Eileen drove an elbow back into his ribs, though not too hard. “Idiot.”

“Aye, that’s me,” said Thomas, wincing. “How long do you think we have before your father comes?”

“I don’t know. I left a note saying I was going to Laketown, so they probably went there first.”

“Then we have a few days, maybe,” said Thomas, trying not to think of what Eileen’s father was going to do when he found them living under one roof. “Long enough to show you the city, if you want. And the Academy.”

Eileen turned in his arms. “The Academy? Really?”

Thomas smiled. “Really. I think I can get you in for the day, at least.”

Eileen’s face lit up. “Thank you!” She kissed him on the mouth, then she leaned her body against his and kissed him thoroughly. “Thank you.”

Thomas found himself grinning. “You’re welcome.” His stomach rumbled at him, making Eileen raise an eyebrow. Thomas fought down his blush. “There’s still the fruit pie. We can eat that up and then get to bed.”

“To bed,” Eileen repeated. She blushed and looked at the ground. “Uh… I know I came here, and that I said I really, really missed you, but I wasn’t… that is… we said we’d wait until Fire Night, and…”

Thomas found himself completely at a loss for words. They had not made love that summer, though the memories of what they had done—especially the night before he left Elmvale—had kept Thomas warm on many cold nights since. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that, since they were alone together, there would be nothing to prevent them if they wanted to… Proof of how distracted I am, thought Thomas, who was now certain he wouldn’t be thinking of much else.

Eileen was still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“On Fire Night,” said Thomas, gently. “I promised.”

Eileen looked both embarrassed and relieved. “I remember. And I knew you would, too, it’s just…”

Thomas kissed her gently on the forehead. “Let’ s finish the pie. Then you can sleep in Benjamin’s room.”

“Benjamin’s…” Eileen faltered. “Do you think that’s all right?”

“He’d want you there. In fact, he’d probably rise up and haunt me if I suggested anything else.”

Thomas put Eileen’s things in Benjamin’s room and gave her his extra blanket. They piled a couple of Thomas’s robes over top of the bed to keep the chill off. After kissing her gently good night, Thomas went to bed. He lay in his room, staring at the ceiling and wondering what he was going to do when her father showed up. No answer came before he drifted off to sleep.

2

The Academy’s morning bells pulled Thomas from sleep. He sat up and looked out the window. The sky was clear and bright, and Thomas could feel the cold through the glass. He pulled his clothes on and fastened a cloak over them before going down to the fountain to secure enough water for the morning’s ablutions. The fountain wasn’t frosted over yet, but Thomas knew it would only be a matter of days.

He poured out a pot of water for tea and re-lit the brazier. Gritting his teeth, he washed himself in the frigid water. Across the way, someone began ringing the apartment’s bell—a sharp peal echoing between the two buildings and waking anyone who had been too deeply asleep or too hung-over to hear the Academy’s bells. He left the bucket beside Eileen’s door and knocked. By the time tea was prepared, Eileen was finished her own ablutions and sitting across the table from him, shivering and cradling her hands around the tea for warmth.

“Still being Alex?” Thomas asked, looking at her clothes.

“I didn’t pack any others. I figured it would be easier to pass as a boy than to try to make the trip by myself as a girl.” She managed a smile. “Especially with the rapier.”

Thomas nodded, took a sip of his tea. “Just as well. There’s no way they’ll let a girl onto the Academy grounds.”

“Should I dress as a student again?”

Thomas shook his head. “No. At my level, the classes are small enough that they would pick you out at once. You will be my friend Alex, from home. Your father has asked you to visit the Academy, to see if the law holds any interest for you. I’ll ask the keeper of the gate if I can escort you in, and then get permission from my professors to have you attend classes with me.”

“Can you do that?”

Thomas smiled. “I think so.”

“And when they ask about my education?”

“Schooled by a tutor, and hoping to expand what you’ve learnt. Pretend to be eager. It makes them happy.”

“No need to pretend. I’ll just try not to sound desperate.” Eileen looked around the room. “Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“Is there anything to eat?”

“Not a thing,” said Thomas. “Come on. And leave your sword. You can’t take it into the Academy.”

They put on their coats and Thomas gave Eileen his cloak to put over top of her own. He slipped his robes over his head, gathered his books and papers, and they stepped out into the cold. He led Eileen out into the street, past the Academy gate to a very busy bakery on a nearby corner. There were easily two dozen students there already, with more converging. The line moved quickly, and soon Thomas and Eileen were back on the streets with a meat-filled pastry each and a loaf of bread besides.

“The bread is for later,” Thomas explained. “There’s not much time to eat between lectures, so we buy for the whole day. Come on.”

The next stop was the gate and the Master of Keys, who listened to Thomas’s explanation, grunted something unintelligible, and waved them through.

In fall, the Academy had a sombre look. The ivy that covered the grey stone buildings had dropped its leaves, leaving twisting ribbons of dark brown on the walls. The trees were bare, the grasses yellow, and the students were wrapped tight in their black robes against the cold wind that blew through the grounds. Older students walked together, arguing in pairs or small groups, or stepped along quickly, books in hand, obviously late for class. Younger students raced one another or kicked balls at each other—none of which came near the library, whose tall glass windows were sacrosanct. And even at this early hour, there were several students sitting on the grass, robes pulled close against the wind and noses buried deep in the books.

Several times, Thomas ran across students he knew as he and Eileen crossed the Academy’s grounds. Thomas introduced “Alex” and gave them each the story of “his” arrival. Eileen looked slightly overwhelmed by it all, but kept to the story. By the time they had reached the Law building, Thomas had agreed to meet with one group of students at the Broken Quill the next day, promised to give notes to a student who had been sick the day before, and dodged a half-dozen questions about his summer romance, much to Eileen’s amusement.

The Law building sat near the northern edge of the grounds. Like most of the Academy’s buildings, it was large, grey, square and squat, studded with windows to let in some light. Its only adornment was a plaque reading “College of Laws.”

“This morning is law,” said Thomas. “This afternoon is fencing and philosophy.”

“Fencing?” Eileen’s eyes lit up.

 Thomas grinned. “You’ll get handed your heart on a plate.”

“Probably,” agreed Eileen. “But it’ll be fun to try.”

Thomas laughed at the eagerness in her voice. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the professors.”

Both Thomas’s professors that morning had no objection to having “Alex” sit in and listen, provided that was all she did. It was made perfectly clear that no talking would be tolerated from her in either class, and Eileen kept her mouth shut the entire time. Thomas was more impressed that Eileen managed to stay awake for both lectures, and even remained alert during a long and rather involved debate about the virtues of common law versus written law, and the effects of each on the nobility and the common people in the past century.