Cold Magics (21 page)

The duke grunted his agreement. He turned his attention to Thomas. “So. Is it true?”

It took Thomas a moment to remember that Henry had given his father all the details of their adventures, including Thomas’s magic. He nodded. “Yes, your Grace.”

“Show me.”

Thomas was unsure what to do for a moment. Not able to think of anything else, he raised his hand and opened his palm. A moment later, a ball of light danced on it. Both elder brothers started at the sight, then leaned in to get a better look.

“It’s a trick,” said John.

“A good one,” said Richard.

“It isn’t a trick,” said Henry.

“Nor is it truly convincing,” said Duke Antonius. “What else can you do?”

Thomas let the light fade to nothing on his palm and focused in on the candelabras. One by one he made the candles come alight. The duke and his sons started slightly as each candle flickered into flame.

“These are tricks,” said John again, “designed to amuse fools at fairs. There is no magic here.”

“If you want proof, speak to my knights,” said Henry. “They watched him destroy one of the enemy’s magicians.”

Duke Antonius sat suddenly straighter, his eyes going from the candles to Henry. “You were attacked?”

“Twice,” said Henry. “The second time by the enemy.”

“And no doubt Thomas dispersed the enemy both times single-handed,” said John. “Father, this is ridiculous.”

“Be silent,” said Duke Antonius, still looking at Henry. “How did you survive the first battle unscathed?”

“There wasn’t a first battle,” said Henry. “George heard something and woke Thomas. Thomas saw them in the dark and called a snowstorm to cover our escape.”

“A snowstorm?” the duke looked again to Thomas.

“A very small one,” clarified Thomas. “And the effort had me falling from my saddle.”

The duke looked unconvinced. “And the second time?”

“We were ambushed by the enemy,” said Henry. “They were hiding under snow. One of them threw the fire that killed Michael and Gareth. Thomas killed him.”

“And how did you do that, Thomas?” asked Duke Antonius.

“Lightning,” said Thomas, trying not to remember the stench of the battlefield. “I called lightning to kill their magician and one of their archers. When the others ran, Henry and his men rode them down and killed them all.”

“All of them?” The duke looked at his youngest son.

“All.” Henry smiled like a wolf standing over its fallen prey.

“Well done,” said Richard to Henry.

“You cannot expect us to believe this,” said John.

“Do you want to go look at the bodies?” asked Henry.

“I’m sure they’re as dead as you say,” said John. “It’s the magic I don’t believe. All I’ve seen are parlour tricks.”

“When Henry told me of your abilities,” said Duke Antonius, raising his voice loud enough to still John’s protests, “he said that your lightning killed a dozen of Bishop Malloy’s men. Is this true?”

“I was working with borrowed power,” said Thomas.

“So Henry said.” The duke frowned—in thought rather than anger. “I would like to see you call lightning.”

“Not in here, you wouldn’t,” said Henry. “It’s very loud and tends to start fires.”

“Nonetheless.” The duke pointed at the logs stacked on the cold hearth. “Send it to the fireplace. Now, if you please.”

Thomas nodded his reluctant agreement. He wasn’t sure what would happen in so small a room. George and Eileen, both sitting near the fireplace, were out of their seats and moving to the other side of the table before Thomas could suggest it. Richard looked nervous, but stayed where he was. John sat back, crossed his arms and waited.

It took Thomas a moment to summon the concentration, another to raise his hand and open it. When he did, a blinding flash and a deafening CRACK filled the room. The logs in the fireplace exploded into flaming kindling that flew out onto the floor.

Everyone save Thomas stared at the debris that lay scattered throughout the room. The duke had turned white, his mouth open with shock. Richard’s expression mirrored his father’s. John looked both angry and frightened. Thomas, his ears ringing, ran to the fireplace and grabbed the small shovel from beside it, using it to scoop up flaming bits of wood from the floor and toss them back where they belonged.

The door hurled open and a dozen men burst into the room with swords in hand.

“Your Grace!” called the first man. “What happened here?”

Duke Antonius rose to his feet. “It is all right.”

The knight looked at the flaming scraps of wood spread around the room, then at the shocked looks on the lords’ faces. The duke followed his gaze. “A log exploded in the fireplace. Help to clean it up, please.”

“Aye, your Grace.” The man turned to the others and said, “Get this kindling into the fireplace.” He looked back to Duke Antonius. “Your Grace, are you all right?”

“I am,” said the duke, speaking very slowly. “We are all fine. Would you ask one of your men to escort these three —” he gestured at Thomas, George and Eileen, “back to the great hall? My sons and I have matters to discuss.”

“Of course, your Grace,” said the knight.

13

 An hour later, Henry found them in the great hall.

“So,” said Thomas, looking at his friend’s face. “How bad is it?”

“Well,” Henry pulled out a chair at their table and joined them, “Richard thinks your talents are handy, but worries that the church may withdraw any possible support if we use them. John is sure the church will withdraw support until we turn you over and thinks your talents are overrated.”

“And your father?”

“My father was impressed.”

“So, where does that leave us?” asked Eileen.

“Waiting,” said Henry. He looked into the fireplace, where a small blaze sent minimal heat into the otherwise empty hall. “Father has decided not to take any actions until spring. He believes the enemy will starve by then.”

“And what do you believe?” asked Thomas.

“I wouldn’t question my father’s wisdom,” said Henry. He raised his chin slightly, and Thomas looked in the direction of the gesture to see a woman sweeping the balcony. “I’ll show you your rooms. You’ll need time to get settled and organized before dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” repeated George.

“Aye. My father is holding an impromptu banquet to celebrate my return.”

“And we have to be there?” asked George, looking uncomfortable at the idea.

“I want you there,” said Henry. “Eileen and Thomas have suitable clothes. We’ll find something for you. Enrich, one of my father’s knights, is about your size. I’ll bespeak him for clothes. He can deliver them to your rooms.” Henry smiled. “Speaking of which, follow me.”

He led them down the twisting halls of the castle. What had once been separate structures were now joined by passages of stone, or by other buildings that had been built between them. Three turns brought them through a wide set of doors and into the inner keep; two more, to a flight of stairs. That, in turn, took them to a long hall, sun-lit by a thick-paned window at its end. Halfway down it, Henry opened one of the doors. “Eileen.”

Eileen looked in and gasped. It was not as well appointed as the rooms in the Residence in Hawksmouth, but it was close. The bed was large, with heavy velvet hangings around it to keep the sleeper warm at night. There was a fireplace and a pair of comfortable chairs and a thick rug on the floor. A large trunk lay at the food of the bed and a wardrobe stood on one wall. Eileen’s bags lay open on the floor and a servant was hanging up her clothes and sword in the wardrobe.

“What do you think?”

“Wow,” said Eileen. “This is amazing!”

“Only the best for a beautiful lady,” said Henry.

“Flatterer,” said Eileen, still looking at the room.

Henry smiled. “George, your room is here.”

George’s room was very much the same, if slightly smaller. His clothes had already been put away, and the makings for a fire laid into the fireplace.

“Is Thomas’s room like this?” asked Eileen.

“Not in the slightest,” said Henry. “You two are in the family wing because the castle is rather full. Otherwise you’d be in the outer keep with the young lords and ladies.”

“I’ve seen the young lords,” said Eileen, “and don’t fancy being anywhere near them.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” said Henry. “This is the inner keep. No one enters unless they’re family or guests.” He turned to Thomas. “You, on the other hand, have to worry. Come on.”

“Can we come?” asked Eileen.

Henry shook his head. “The day’s getting on. You should rest before dinner. It’s going to be a long night. Which reminds me…” he stepped back to Eileen’s room and spoke briefly to the servant there. The girl curtsied and walked briskly away. “She’ll bring Enrich and some spare clothes, George,” said Henry. “Come on, Thomas.”

Henry retraced his steps out of the inner keep, though the hallways to one of the corner towers. He led Thomas up a set of twisting stairs that stopped on the second floor. Instead of more stairs, there was a door set into the stone wall of the tower. Thomas’s bags had been set down outside the door and a bored guard stood watch over them. Henry dismissed the man with a wave and pulled a key on a long loop of leather from his jacket pocket.

“Sorry you’re not all staying together,” said Henry. “We were really only expecting you.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“It’s all right,” said Thomas as he picked up his bags and followed. The room was large and round and took up the whole of the tower. The windows were thin slits in the tower walls—once meant for firing arrows through, Thomas was sure—and little light came through the glass panes. The walls were plastered smooth, and the ceiling above had been plastered in spiralling designs. The fireplace on the far wall had a thick stone mantle, and the floor was high quality, polished wood. A set of stair circled up one section of the wall, leading to the floor above. A lot of work had gone into the creation of this space and something about it struck Thomas as not quite right.

The furnishings were nice enough. There were two large chairs with cushions and lap-blankets by the fireplace. An empty bookshelf stood beside a writing desk with its own chair against one wall, and a small table with two chairs was under one of the windows. The bed, against the wall away from the desk, was a good deal larger than the one Thomas had back in his apartment, and the blankets were heaped high on it. The three hangings on the wall—an intricate woodland scene, two lovers holding hands, and a large map of the heavens above—were tasteful and well made. They, along with everything else, looked slightly out of place, as if they had been brought in to fill an empty space.

“What was this place before?” asked Thomas.

“A storeroom, for the last fifty years. Before that, it was the home to the priest of the Blessed Daughter who used to be in residence in the castle.” He smiled as Thomas stared at him in surprise. “Figured it would be the best place for you. Especially the upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“Aye, go look.”

Thomas did, taking the stairs up and opening a closed trap door at the top. It moved easily, counterweighted by a lead weight attached to a rope hanging from a pulley on the wall above the door.

The room itself was an empty space, round like the one below, but with a tiled floor, a ceiling easily three times as high as Thomas was tall, and stone stairs leading up to another trap door. There were no furnishings save a single large brazier in the middle of the room. Like the fireplace below, it was filled and ready for a fire to be lit; like the furniture below, Thomas suspected it was a recent addition.

Thomas climbed up and opened the trap door. This one was much harder to push open, and when he managed it snow slid into the room below, and cold gusts of wind drove more snow into his eyes. His coat was downstairs, of course, but he went up anyway.

The view was breathtaking. The tower, though not the highest in the keep, easily looked out twenty or more miles over the empty winter landscape. The northern side of the city was laid open to him from the base of the keep to the city wall, and the lake beyond it shone white in the late afternoon sun. The barren, rolling earth, broken up only by a few bunches of trees and the remains of several burnt out villages, stretched out before Thomas like a massive white and grey blanket.

He would have stayed and enjoyed the view for a long time, had he not been freezing. Instead, he went back inside, closed the trap door and retreated to the warmth of his room, two stories below.

Henry had unpacked Thomas’s books and was putting them on the bookshelf. “Enjoy the view?”

“Aye,” said Thomas. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s all yours,” said Henry. “Figured you’d need a place to practise, and this seemed the best bet.”

“It’s good,” said Thomas. “Maybe I can figure out that rod.”

“Just don’t go burning the place down,” warned Henry.

“I promise to try to figure it out upstairs,” said Thomas.

“Good. Here,” Henry tossed Thomas the key. “We don’t need people sniffing around your books or your business.”

“You say that like you expect it to happen.”

“It’s a castle,” said Henry. “Everyone is in everyone else’s business. And half of them are spies for one person or another.”

“Like your brothers?”

“Them,” agreed Henry. “And my father and myself, and the local bishop, and the high council. Everyone wants to keep an ear on what’s happening.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do,” said Henry. “And don’t forget to come down for dinner tonight.”

Henry took his leave, and Thomas took the time to pack away his clothes in the chest Henry had left him. He kept out the suit Henry had given him in the Residence to wear to dinner, hanging it over the chair and hoping some of the wrinkles would work themselves out. He turned his attention to the stone rod he’d left wrapped in the middle of his clothes.

He started his experiments in the tiled room. An hour later, he moved back downstairs to a comfortable chair and the warmth of the fire. He had stared at the rod, touched it, held it, rubbed it, called his magic into it and cast a spell of fire onto it. Nothing did anything. He let his mind reach out to the stone; tried to make his consciousness go into it the way it had gone into the sky when he’d called the snow. He’d shaken it, pointed it at the walls and the ceiling. He tried yelling at it, too. Nothing happened.