Cold Magics (22 page)

Thomas gave up and buried himself in his four books of magic. He had read them enough to know that there were no references to a spell that could imbue an object with magic, but he went through them anyway, just in case he’d missed something. Another hour later, Thomas put the books back on the shelf and changed into his formal clothes. Leaving his rapier hanging on a handy hook by the bed, he locked the tower behind him and tried to find his way to the great hall. After a short time wandering, he caught the sound of laughter and followed it to a group of well-dressed people. Thomas fell in behind them.

The hall was lit with candles at every table and a great fire in the fireplace. There were well over a hundred people inside. Thomas spotted several of the young noblemen he’d seen earlier, spread around the room. Henry, John and Richard were circulating through the crowd, talking as they went. Thomas stayed by the door, nodding politely at people as they passed in and out of the room.

Henry spotted him and came over. “Lurking?”

“Waiting for George and Eileen.”

“Ah,” said Henry. “You see where Sir Patrick and Sir Rowland are?”

Thomas spotted the two knights, standing and talking beside one of the tables. Two women and a young girl were standing with them. “Aye.”

“You three sit with them.” Henry took a casual look around to make sure no one was standing close. “Any luck?”

“Nothing,” said Thomas. “It’s a lump of rock. There’s no magic in it, and I can’t figure out a way to put magic into it.”

“Wonderful.”

“And whoever carved it couldn’t hold a chisel straight to save his life.”

Henry smiled. “Well, at least we know it won’t come to life on us.”

“No,” corrected Thomas. “We know I can’t make it come to life. That doesn’t mean it won’t wake up on its own.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” said Henry. “Here come George and Eileen. I’ll speak to you later.”

Thomas met them in the hallway, and offered his arm to Eileen. She had put on the green dress Henry had given her, and had obviously spent a fair amount of time trying to make her short cropped hair look good. “You look wonderful,” said Thomas.

“You must be speaking to George,” said Eileen.

Thomas glanced back at her brother, who was wearing a black jacket and pants that fit him surprisingly well, save the jacket was loose around the middle. “George does clean up well,” said Thomas. “But I was speaking to you.”

“I look terrible,” said Eileen. “My hair’s a mess and I can’t do anything with it.”

She had bound it beneath a single band that pulled back it from her face. “I think it looks pretty,” said Thomas. “Ready?”

“No,” said George.

“Too bad,” said Thomas. “There’s our table.”

It was one of the longer walks in Thomas’s memory. Every eye in the place wasn’t on them at once, but it was fair to say that they all passed over them. It was like stepping into a small-town tavern, Thomas mused, only far more ornate. From the cut and style of people’s clothes, Thomas identified merchants and their wives, gentlemen who looked to be high ranking members of guilds, and members of the local nobility.

And I thought being the son of a cloth merchant would never come in handy.

Rowland and Patrick greeted them with outstretched hands, and both introduced their wives—Margery and Bethany, respectively. Patrick also introduced the young lady Thomas had seen earlier. His daughter, Miss Rose, looked about thirteen, Thomas guessed, watching her awkward curtsey and her blush as she said, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Henry sent us word his father was having a celebration tonight,” said Patrick. “He asked us to come.”

“Glad you did,” said Thomas. “Or we’d know nobody at all.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” said Margery. “We’ll have to introduce you to the other young people at the court.”

“And we’ll introduce the rest of the knights here,” said Sir Rowland. “They’ll want to get to meet you once they learn about our victory.”

“Aye?” said Thomas. “About that…”

“Word is already getting around about how we managed to fight off a troop of them,” said Patrick.

“But not details, I hope,” said Thomas carefully.

Patrick smiled. “None that need concern you, Thomas.”

“The duke,” said Margery.

All talk in the hall stopped and those sitting rose to their feet. The duke entered the hall, with several well-dressed, senior-looking noblemen behind him. The court bowed as he walked by. Henry, John and Richard broke from the people they had been talking to and moved to follow their father up to the duke’s table on the platform at the far end of the hall. Sir Lawrence, who had been hovering near Henry and trying unsuccessfully to be unobtrusive, slipped away to sit beside Patrick.

The duke mounted the platform and surveyed the room. “Friends,” he said, “I am thrilled so many of you could attend on such short notice. Henry has returned and I have called this feast to welcome him home.”

Polite applause rode around the room, falling quickly silent as the duke raised his hands. “His journey was successful. And what’s more, on the way home, he and his knights and friends defeated a dozen of our enemy, leaving none to escape.” The applause this time was louder and slightly ferocious. “Barons Meekin and Cavish will be following soon, bringing with them men and supplies to help us in these dangerous and trying times.” More applause, slightly more enthusiastic this time. “And now, my friends, let us sit, let us eat, and tonight, let us celebrate!”

He sat down and at once put word to deed. There was a flurry of movement as everyone found their seats. Thomas sat himself down across from Eileen, and was flanked by Patrick on one side and Rowland’s wife on the other. There was little time to talk before the servants came bearing heavy platters of food. Thomas knew that this was a special occasion, but even so, he was surprised at the sheer size of the feast. A full five courses came out: soup, fish, poultry, beef—each meat course accompanied by root vegetables—and rich pastries for dessert. Wine flowed freely through the courses.

Thomas happily dug into everything, even as he wondered at how good the food stores were. He was not educated in warfare but, despite the lack of troops at the walls, he knew that the city was under siege. Most sieges he had read about ended when the castle ran out of supplies, and in this case there was an entire city to be fed. Thomas decided to ask Henry about it later.

The wine did not stop with the removal of the final course. The duke waited until the last of the glasses were filled, then rose to his feet.

“My friends. The return of my son, the news of the reinforcements that will be coming soon, and the news that my son and his companions defeated a troop of the enemy—these are all signs that things have begun to change. We are safe. We have refuge and warmth and food. The enemy, meanwhile, must live off the land. And when the spring comes, we shall find the enemy. We shall fall on them, and we shall destroy them!” He raised his glass. “To victory!”

“To victory,” everyone called out. Glasses were raised, and many of them drained. George drained his. Thomas cast his eyes to Henry, and when he saw his friend take only a small sip, did the same. The duke sat down, and a moment later, another man rose to his feet.

“Your Grace,” said the man—a merchant, from his robe and the weighty chains around his neck, “Tonight I would thank his Grace for the generosity he has shown to those whose trade has suffered in this conflict. Just as lives have been lost, so too have livelihoods been lost. Many good men and women have been forced into penury from the actions of the enemy, but many more would have been, if it had not been for the charity of my Lord Duke. For your help to those who face the bill collectors and the certainty of poverty and starvation, I thank your Grace, and I toast you. To the Lord Duke.”

“To the Lord Duke,” called the room, and glasses were raised to lips again, though this time no one rose. Thomas wondered how many of the guests were draining their glasses as George was.

The merchant drank, bowed to the duke and sat back down. Drinks were replenished around the room, and another man—one of the duke’s knights—rose to his feet.

How many toasts are there going to be?
Thomas wondered.

It was over an hour before they were all finished. The toasts ranged from polite recognition of friends to outright requests for assistance. One man wanted more soldiers in town, one man wanted lower taxes, one man wanted to thank the duke for a new horse, and another raised a glass to his new wife. After four toasts, Thomas stopped actually drinking and began barely wetting his lips with the wine. Eileen saw what he was doing and began imitating him. Even George stopped quaffing with every toast, though he continued to drink. Thomas wondered if he was going to be able to walk back to his tower unsupported by the time the duke rose to his feet again.

“My friends,” said the duke, smiling at the assembled room. “These are hard times, and these are dangerous times, and these are sad times. Yet I would call on you all to stay a while longer. To join us in dancing and song, that we may raise our spirits and give ourselves strength to face the morning. Let the floor be cleared! Musicians!”

The room rose practically as one, once more catching Thomas and his friends unawares. They struggled to their feet as the guests helped move the tables out of the way. Servants were already sweeping the floor where the tables had been. The duke and all at the head table cleared off the platform, and a group of musicians took their place.

The formal divisions of the room broke up as well. Older nobles and some of the high-ranking merchants were gravitating toward Duke Antonius. The young men of the court, who had been scattered throughout the room, were soon together and taking over one corner around Lord John. There was no similar gathering of young ladies, Thomas noticed; many were scattered about the room, but they remained beside their parents.

Duke Antonius escorted a thin woman of similar age out to the dance floor and began leading her in measured steps. More couples followed and the floor filled quickly. Thomas recognized the rhythm, if not the tune itself, and turned to Eileen. “Would you like to dance?”

“I would,” said Eileen, smiling and taking his hand. “Very much.”

The music was light and springy, and the duke and his partner moved gracefully across the floor. The other dancers circled around, giving the pair space as they moved through their paces. A young, blonde-haired girl, prettily decked out in a blue dress and bodice, was talking to Henry, leaning in close as if captivated by his every word.

The duke released his partner when the music ended, bowed to her and to the other dancers, and made his way from the floor. Once he had gained a seat at the side of the room, the musicians struck up another tune. This one was much livelier, and the young lords all sprang into action, scattering around the room and pulling girls from their families and out onto the floor. There were giggles and mock-protests, but no one refused.

Soon they were dancing fast and furiously, back and forth across the floor, dodging the other couples in time to the reckless pace of the music. Thomas let himself get caught up in it. He revelled in the feel of Eileen his arms. They had not had more than a few minutes alone together since they had left Hawksmouth. That was something, Thomas thought as Eileen’s body brushed against his, that he was definitely going to have to remedy.

The dance drew to a crescendo and a close, and Thomas held onto Eileen’s hand, waiting for the next. “How are you doing?”

“Stunned, I think,” said Eileen. “And a little drunk. I can’t believe that two days ago I was sleeping in the snow and now I’m dancing at a duke’s banquet.”

“We do lead interesting lives, don’t we?”

“Aye,” said Eileen as the drums struck out the beat and the pipes began wailing. “We do!”

They whirled around the floor, dodging the other fast-moving couples. The pipe dance had a continuously changing tempo, and by halfway through there had already been several collisions and much laughter.

Thomas caught a brief flash of Henry dancing with the pretty blonde girl again, and Lord Richard talking to several of the young nobles. Lord John was engaged in conversation with merchants, and the duke was nowhere to be seen.

The dance whirled to an end, and the next one was slow and gentle. Thomas stayed with Eileen, leading her through the steps. She followed gracefully, her hands light on his as they swung gently apart, their bodies coming as close to touching as propriety allowed. Thomas forgot about the rest of the dancers, and the rest of the room. “It’s good to see you smile,” he said.

Eileen’s smile grew a little wider. “It’s good to feel warm and safe and happy,” she said. “And it’s good to dance with you. We haven’t danced in… how long?”

“Months,” said Thomas. “Too many months.”

They swung apart again and then came together, bodies brushing this time. Thomas left off talking, and let himself fall into the rhythm of the dance and the joy of being with Eileen.

The music came to an end far too soon. When it did, Sir Patrick came over to them, leading Miss Rose by the hand. From the expression on her face, she was mortally embarrassed.

“Thomas,” he said, “I am here to offer a trade.”

“A trade?” repeated Thomas.

“Aye. A dance with your lovely lady, for a dance with my lovely daughter.”

“Da!” The girl turned a brighter shade of red.

Thomas turned to Eileen, who was trying not to laugh. “Of course, I shall be delighted,” said Eileen. “If your daughter is willing, that is.”

Thomas turned to the girl and bowed his best, rising with his hand extended. “I am honoured to dance with so fine a young lady, and only hope my dancing will be a compliment to your own.”

The girl blushed even brighter and turned to look at her father. “Da!”

“Oh, go with him, Rose,” said Patrick. “He’s a good one, notwithstanding how he talks.” He smiled at her when she hesitated. “Go on, then.”

She took Thomas’s hand and curtsied. “The honour would be mine, sir.”