Cold Magics (26 page)

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” said Henry. “You look ready to hit someone.”

“I’m fine!” Eileen snapped. She put a spoonful in her mouth and began chewing it with far more vigour than porridge required. Henry’s expression spoke volumes, but he left the matter alone.

“Spending today at the forge, then?” Rowland asked George.

“Already been,” was George’s reply. “Was down there working for a couple of hours before practice and will be there until dinner tonight, I imagine. Lots to learn.”

“Having fun, then?” asked Thomas. George grinned at him.

“And how about you?” Henry asked Eileen. “What will you do with your day?”

“Sit in my room,” said Eileen, her tone still sharp. “There’s nothing else for me to do here. Unless Amelia finds me, in which case I’ll be hiding under the bed.”

“She’s made her usual first impression, then,” said Henry. “You could spend the morning in the library.”

Eileen perked up at the word. “There’s a library?”

“Aye,” said Henry. “A fairly extensive one, in fact.”

Eileen nearly smiled, then faltered. “And what if Amelia comes looking for me?”

“Amelia,” said Henry, smiling, “does not have permission to visit the family wing.”

The relief in Eileen’s face was obvious and great. “Thank you, Lord Henry,” she said, and for the first time, Thomas could almost believe she meant something by the title.

“Anything of use to me in your library?” asked Thomas.

Henry shook his head. “Nothing I’ve seen, and I did go looking. Still, you have a better talent for it than I do, so perhaps you should join Eileen.”

“Just as long as they get some work done,” muttered George around a spoonful of porridge.

Eileen’s fist bounced off her brother’s shoulder without noticeable effect. Soon, Henry was leading Thomas and Eileen out of the hall, through the castle to the family library.

It was impressive, as private libraries went. The large room was lined floor to ceiling with neatly arranged shelves of books. Thomas, who had spent most of the last four years in the largest library in the nation, was impressed but not unduly so. Eileen was completely amazed.

“I could spend my life here,” she said, looking up and down the stacks. “It’s incredible.”

Henry bid them goodbye and left. Thomas thought of asking Eileen again what had happened that morning, but before he could, she stepped into the middle of the room and turned in a circle, taking in the shelves. “Where should we start?”

“There,” said Thomas, pointing at the shelf to the left of the door. “We start at the top, and we work our way around to the bottom, there.” He pointed to the shelf on the right side of the door.

“Then we’d better get started,” said Eileen.

“I’ll close the curtains,” said Thomas. “I’ll be able to see the lights better, if there are any.”

Thomas untied the curtains and released them, darkening the room. Eileen found a small ladder to reach the highest shelf and began passing down books for Thomas to flip through, looking for the tell-tale glow of magic on the page. After the first hour, they had gone through one side of the room, and were working their way through the second. They had found nothing. Thomas’s eyes were practically crossed from looking for the glow of spells on the pages. Eileen’s back and arms hurt from reaching up for the books. Thomas was seriously considering calling for a break when the library door opened.

“Henry said you two would be in here,” said John, stepping into the room. “Given what he told me, I’m surprised to find you just looking at books.”

Eileen stepped down off the ladder, directly in front of Lord John. “And what, exactly has Henry told you?” she bristled.

“That you two have a very passionate relationship,” said John, sounding not a whit disturbed. “Was he wrong?”

“Can we help you with something, Lord John?” asked Thomas. “Or are you looking for a book?”

“Amelia,” said Lord John. “was looking for her companions, and I told her that I would enquire after you.”

“Give Amelia our regards,” said Thomas, “and our apologies that we cannot join her today.”

“I see.” John walked into the middle of the room and surveyed the library. “And what are you researching in my family’s private library?”

“Magic,” said Thomas.

“Here?” John’s eyebrows went up. “There’s no magic here. When the Church of the High Father removed the last of the Blessed Daughter’s priests a hundred years ago, the library was purged. Anything that looked like it could be magic was removed. Pity, really. Some of it might have been useful.”

“Some of it might still be,” said Thomas.

“Do you think my ancestors would have missed anything?” John sounded amused. “With the High Father’s inquisitors looking over our shoulders?”

“I don’t doubt they were thorough,” said Thomas. “But something might have come in since then, or they might have passed over something, not knowing it was magic.”

“Unlikely, but keep looking,” said John. “I’ll absent myself. Father Roberts has asked to see me.” He smiled at Eileen. “Lord Ethan said to send his regards, if I saw you. Apparently you’ve made quite an impression on him.”

Eileen flushed bright red and her hands clenched into fists. Lord John nodded to them both and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Very nice of him to let you know he’s visiting with Father Roberts,” said Eileen before Thomas could speak.

“Very. Are you all—”

“Why did he tell you about that?” The words came out quickly. “To warn you?”

“To remind me how precarious my position is,” said Thomas. He took a slow breath, fighting down the urge to try asking her again. “Probably so he’ll have my support if he takes over.”

“Wonderful.” Eileen looked at the remaining walls of books that awaited them. “Do you think there’s really nothing here?”

“Probably.”

“Are we going to keep looking?”

“Aye,” said Thomas. “I’d feel a right fool to have missed the answer if it was sitting right here.”

“Fair enough.” Eileen climbed up on the stool and picked another book off the shelf. “Here you go, then.”

They worked through the rest of the morning and were late to lunch. John’s prediction had been annoyingly accurate. There were no books with any magic in them. The closest they came was one book on the Blessed Daughter, which claimed that her priests and priestesses were possessed of great power and were to be watched. Thomas read the first few pages of the book out of interest, then gave up when it turned into a long tirade against witchcraft.

George was already finishing his lunch when they arrived, and Henry was nowhere to be seen. George looked them over. “Went badly, I take it.”

“How did you know?” asked Thomas as he and Eileen sat.

“If it went well, you’d either have come running to get me, or you’d still be working in the library.”

“Is there any stew left?” said Thomas, looking for some sign of the servants.

“Nope,” said George around his last mouthful.

“Figures,” said Thomas. “How was your morning?”

“Wonderful,” said George, his tone not matching the word. “Amelia decided to come visit the forges and see how the newest smith is getting on.”

Eileen winced in sympathy.

“And is she still at the smithy?” asked Thomas.

“No, she said she felt sorry for my poor sister and asked would I mind if she took her walking through the town.”

Eileen’s eyes went wide. “If I have to go walking alone with that girl I don’t guarantee we’re both coming back.” She put a hand on Thomas’s arm. “If you love me, keep me away from her.”

“I love you,” said Thomas, “but I can only promise so much.” He looked to the kitchen and his stomach rumbled. “Of course, we could go walking through town.”

“What?” Eileen’s eyebrows went up.

“I say we head into the city for lunch and look for booksellers. Maybe I’ll find something out there.”

“Now that,” said Eileen, “is a good idea.”

Thomas looked to George. “Do you want to come?”

“Can’t,” said George. “I need to get back to the forge. But promise to take me out once you’ve found a tavern worth sitting in.”

“We will,” promised Thomas.

“Meet me at my room,” said Eileen. “And if you see Amelia, run!”

Thomas made his way to his tower, put on his winter clothes, and dug out his money. He had enough for an afternoon in the city, certainly, but not much beyond that, and there was no way to access his funds back in Hawksmouth. He wondered if he could get Henry to give him more.

He made it to Eileen’s room and the two of them managed to escape the castle without seeing Amelia. The guard at the gate told them the castle shut for the night two hours after sunset. “And this time of year, that’s just supper time,” the guard warned. “After that, you’ll need to convince the night watch to let you in, and they’re not inclined to do so.”

They thanked him and headed into the city. The roads were filled with a deep-churned grey paste of dirt and snow that clung to their boots and weighted down their feet. There was almost no colour in the street, save the occasional brightly painted sign. The buildings were grey stone or brown wood, with grey slate roofs and thick icicles hanging from their eaves, and doors pulled tightly shut. Though the few windows, Thomas could see shopkeepers sitting idle inside their empty stores.

By contrast, the main thoroughfare was filled with people. But it wasn’t the bustling crowd of a market day, or even the steady trudge of tradesmen on their way to work. Men and women stood in the streets. Children huddled in doorways or clung to their parents. Some begged for food or money and Thomas, having none of the first and little of the second, refused as gently as he could. Others just stared at them as they went by, saying nothing. Thomas kept his eyes on all of them as he went past, and kept his hand close to the grip of his rapier.

“How many of them do you think there are?” Eileen asked quietly as they passed yet another crowd of men huddled around a small brazier.

“I couldn’t guess,” said Thomas. “The duke said a thousand, but I’m sure there’s more.”

“Will there be enough food for them all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe with the supplies from the South, there will be a chance, but otherwise…”

“Otherwise, they’ll starve to death.”

“Aye,” said Thomas.

They walked a ways further, and Thomas spotted a tavern. He found himself feeling guilty as he mounted the step and held the door open for Eileen. From her face, she was feeling the same. He pushed the door shut as soon as he passed inside, blocking out the sight of the men and women standing in the streets.

The warm, stuffy interior of the tavern was both welcome and oppressive after the clear cold of the streets. Flames danced merrily in the fireplace and a dozen patrons sat at tables sipping drinks. Thomas enquired about lunch and was given a tray with bread and cheese, and a promise that roast chicken would not be far behind. Thomas added two glasses of mulled wine, paid for the fare, and took Eileen to a table as close to the fire as was available. The patrons eyed them, but no one said anything.

The bartender brought the mulled wine and Eileen wrapped her hands loosely around the steaming cup, letting it warm her fingers. “It’s so cold right now.”

“It’s not even deep winter yet,” said Thomas. “Down south they’re probably just getting the first snows.”

“I wonder what it will be like at the turning of the year.”

“Cold enough to make your spit freeze before it hits the ground,” said the bartender, returning with the chicken, fresh-pulled from the spit. “Assuming we’re all here to see it.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” asked Thomas.

“We’re under siege,” said the man. “Have you not heard?”

“I’ve heard that the duke has forbidden his armies travel beyond the gates.”

“Not just his armies,” said the bartender. “Anyone. And if you’re not allowed to leave, that’s a siege.”

“I suppose it is,” said Thomas.

Another customer called, and the man went away. Thomas and Eileen ate and finished off their wine without much more conversation. When they stepped out into the cold, grey daylight, a dozen pairs of eyes followed their movements.

“Seems mean to eat in a tavern,” said Eileen, her voice quiet. “Half the people out here probably aren’t eating at all.”

Thomas nodded his agreement and kept his eyes on the people in the street. No one looked hostile. Everyone just seemed to be waiting.

For spring
, Thomas thought.
For the hope that they can go home.

He wondered how many would be alive, come spring.

“Thomas, look.”

A poster had been plastered up on a blank patch of wall. In it, an ugly, hunched man, breathed fire at a helpless group of women and children. Standing between them, holding a shield emblazoned with the symbol of the High Father, stood a priest. Beneath the image, the words “Hold to the Faith, and Beware Magic!” loomed large.

“Wonderful,” said Thomas. He looked around and saw a group of men standing together. “Good day.”

The men stared at him and didn’t say anything. Thomas pointed at the poster. “Do any of you know how old this is?”

The men looked to one another, and for a moment Thomas was sure that no one was going to answer. One of the men finally spoke up. “Went up last night. Couple of soldiers put it there.”

“The duke’s soldiers?”

“No, the church’s.”

“Thank you,” said Thomas. He went back to Eileen. “Father Roberts’s work, I bet.”

“Great,” said Eileen. “How long before he comes after you directly?”

“No idea,” said Thomas. He looked around at the shops and the few patrons going in and out of them. “We should find a bookseller,” he said. “There have to be a few of them in a city this size. Maybe one of them will have something useful.”

He accosted a passer-by, then several others, before he got the directions he needed. The store was not a bookseller, he had been advised, but did have books. After walking a dozen more blocks down twisting streets, Thomas and Eileen found themselves staring into the large, many-paned window of the store. The sign above said “Wagman’s Warehouse.” The window display was a clutter of things ranging from clothes to weapons to a boar’s tusk necklace. A stack of books was piled in the corner of the window.