Cold Magics (27 page)

Eileen peered through the glass into the cluttered shop beyond. “This is the place, I take it?”

“I take it,” agreed Thomas. “Come on.”

Thomas pushed open the door, hitting a bell that sent a sharp peal through the store. The inside was just as cluttered as the window display. It looked as if the store sold some of almost everything that could be bought in Frostmire. In his immediate view were a stack of crown mouldings, a stack of animal skins, a barrel filled with swords and another filled with canes, and shelves upon shelves of cloth, dried meat, candles, shackles—

Shackles?

—bottles of wine, bottles of oil, bottles of scent, dried fish, dried fruit and a pair of dried hands which Thomas sincerely hoped had once belonged to a large monkey. Of books, he could only see the ones in the window from where he stood, but given the general clutter of the shop, he wasn’t sure he’d see others unless he was standing beside them.

There was some movement in the back, and a thin man with a rather messy beard and equally messy hair stepped out from behind a pair of very large shelves. He was bundled in a heavy coat and cloak, with frayed gloves on his hands and a bright yellow scarf around his neck. A hat, knit from several rather alarming colours, sat on his head like a half-empty sack. He positively beamed at them.

“Customers!” he declared. “How may I help you young sir, young miss? Something for your house? I have some excellent dishes and pots. Or perhaps something more decorative?”

“Actually,” said Thomas. “I’m looking for books.”

“Books!” the man’s smile grew wider. “A last, someone to buy a book! Hopefully I’ll have something you want. And if not, well, if it is in the city, I can find it for you.” He gestured to the window. “Those are just for show, though you are welcome to any that suit your fancy. The rest are in the back, away from the wet of windows.”

“I’ll look at these first,” said Thomas. “If you want to go with him to see the others, Eileen, I’ll follow in a moment.”

“All right,” said Eileen. She turned back to the bookseller. “If you please?”

“This way.” Eileen followed the man around the corner of a shelf and they vanished from sight.

Morbid curiosity got the better of Thomas, and he quickly went to look at the hands. They had once belonged to a monkey. Chagrined, Thomas turned his attention back to the books. The first was a bound edition of poems. The poet was someone whose name he had not heard before, but the work was good. Thomas regretfully turned his eyes from the poems and flipped through the pages, looking for the flashes of light that would indicate magic. There were none.

There were other books: a map book with beautiful coloured maps of the kingdom, a book of recipes with a preparation for pork tenderloin that set Thomas’s mouth watering, a book of arithmetical problems, a treatise on the philosophic meanings of geometric shapes, and a beautifully illustrated book about the lives and habits of toads. There was no magic in any of them and yet Thomas dearly wished he could have them all.

Thomas edged around the shelves and followed a narrow aisle to an open door. Beyond it, he found Eileen looking through piles of old, worn books. The proprietor was still smiling. “It is the best collection of books in the city, with titles you won’t see anywhere else.” He turned to Thomas. “Did you see anything of interest?”

“All of it,” said Thomas. “Unfortunately, none of it was what I was looking for.”

“Oh!” Eileen snapped a book shut and turned her eyes away, her face turning bright red.

“Ah, yes,” said the proprietor, peering at the book. “Protrudis’s treaty on the uses of the body in the art of romance.” He set a kettle on the counter and reached below for mugs. “The artwork is excellent, but the subject matter does not sell well.” He smiled. “You’d think it would, what with winter being here and people having little to do and a need to keep warm. Still, I have high hopes for the week before Fire Night.”

Thomas came over and opened the book, picking a spot halfway through. The art was excellent—the illustrations were hand-drawn and coloured; the anatomy displayed was exact and instructive. Thomas felt his own blush rising. He looked away from the book and found Eileen watching, eyebrows raised. He willed his blush down and looked at another page before shutting the book, just to show he wasn’t embarrassed.

“Now, are you looking for anything in particular?” asked the bookseller, adding tea leaves to the kettle. “Or just a general interest?”

“Just a general interest,” lied Thomas.

“Well, my shelves are generally interesting,” said the bookseller. “Peruse at length. Would you like some tea?”

“That would be appreciated,” said Thomas. “It is cold out there.”

“Not so bad, for this time of year,” said the man. “The tea will be ready shortly.”

He stepped out of the room. Eileen waited until he was gone. “A hundred-fifty books, tops,” she said, picking up the first book. She pointed to an empty section of shelf. “Discards start there?”

“Aye.”

Eileen’s gave him a smile and tossed a book at him. “Get to work, Scholar.”

Thomas got to work, paging quickly through each book, looking for the flashes of magic that showed a charm or spell that held true magic. He didn’t find any, but was impressed at the wide selection. The books ranged from encyclopedias to treatises on the habits of stoats, to books of astronomy. None of them had any magic, but the book on stars was well-written and had excellent diagrams. Thomas dearly wanted to take it back to his tower. He could imagine standing on the roof, looking at the winter stars. Regretfully, he set it aside.

When Eileen handed him the book on the art of romance, it took all Thomas’s willpower not to slow down as he paged through it. What he saw made him blush even as it sparked his curiosity. He put it down and tried to look nonchalant. Eileen’s smile turned to a giggle.

They worked through the whole pile of books by the time the man came back with a tray and three cups of tea. He looked at the shelves. “I’ve never seen anyone with a general interest go through every book in my store before. Nor so quickly. Is there something specific you are generally interested in?”

Thomas, about to lie again, found himself hesitating.

“Sir?” prompted the bookseller gently.

“Thomas Flarety,” said Thomas, stalling. He took one of the cups of tea and blew on it.

“Barry Wagman, at your service.”

Thomas took a deep breath. He had been brought here for a reason, and while he couldn’t talk about his own power… “I’m looking for magic.”

Eileen, just picking up a teacup, nearly dropped it, and only barely managed to avoid spilling it all over herself as she caught it. Swearing and shaking hot tea off her hands, she stared, wide-eyed, at Thomas.

“Magic?” repeated Barry. “Magic is frowned upon here, young man. Especially now.”

“I’m a scholar, brought north by Lord Henry,” said Thomas. “I was commissioned as his agent to find out everything I can about the raiders—their home, their habits, and their magic.”

“I see,” said Barry, rubbing his hand along his jaw line. “And you expect to find the answer in books, do you?”

I did before
. Out loud, Thomas said, “I don’t expect anything. I just don’t want to miss something because I didn’t think to look in the right place.”

“So you’re looking every place, is that it?”

“Aye.”

Barry nodded. “Well, I don’t get much of that sort of thing around here, but if I should, where should I send word?”

“To the castle,” said Thomas. “And not just books of magic. Any book about raiders, or with charms or lore. Any legends or stories that might have anything to do with them. Send for me, and if they can’t find me, ask for Lord Henry.”

“I’ll do that,” said the bookseller. He took a sip of his own tea. “So, there is nothing of interest, other than the magic?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Thomas, trying to remember how much he had in his purse. He looked to Eileen. “Pick one you want.”

“What?” Eileen’s eyes went wide. “You can’t afford it!”

“I can.”
I think.
“Let’s look through again, and see what we like.”

Soon after, he and Eileen stepped back out into the snow. Thomas had the astronomy book under his arm. Eileen had picked a thick novel at Barry’s recommendation. Thomas had very little money left, but the expression on Eileen’s face and the chance to have a new book made it more than worthwhile. “We’d better head back before they close the gates,” said Thomas.

“Aye,” said Eileen. She leaned up and kissed him, her lips warm on his. “Thank you for the book, Thomas.”

He hugged her tightly. “You’re welcome.”

“And can I look at your astronomy book when you’re done with it?”

Thomas laughed and kissed her again. “Of course.”

The sky was starting to darken. People still milled about on the street. They seemed more numerous, as if the coming night had brought more of them out of the woodwork. Thomas looked over the crowd and shifted his book under his other arm, freeing his sword hand.

“Where are they all coming from?” asked Eileen. “I mean, I know where they came from, but where are they coming from today?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “Maybe some were working during the day.”

They turned down the main thoroughfare, following it toward the castle. “I hope they can find places before it gets any colder,” said Eileen. “They can’t survive out here.”

They know it, too
, Thomas thought, looking at their faces as he passed.

The walk back to the castle was long and slow, but they reached it with time to spare before dinner. Thomas escorted Eileen to her rooms, then headed for his tower. He was just reaching the stairs when Amelia pounced.

“Thomas!” she said, her voice at once playful and chiding. “Where were you today? I was hoping for some companionship this afternoon!”

“Out,” said Thomas. “Eileen and I were learning the city.”

“Just the two of you?” Amelia looked horrified. “That is hardly suitable. Who would protect you if there was a fight? No, next time you must bring me.”

Thomas’s eyebrows went up. “Because you can protect me in a fight?”

“Of course not, silly,” said Amelia. “No, I have a pair of bodyguards who can most ably deal with those living in our streets.” She allowed a delicate little shudder through her body. “The duke really should round them up and send them back their own towns.”

“Most of their towns don’t exist anymore,” said Thomas, remembering the faces of the children in the streets.

“What is that book?” Amelia asked, grabbing it out from under Thomas’s arm and opening it. “Is it a spell book?”

“Astronomy,” said Thomas, grabbing it back. “Why would I have a spell book?”

“Didn’t you know?” Amelia dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s all over the palace. Someone who returned with Henry is a witch.”

“What?”

“A witch,” said Amelia in her normal tone. “Brought to help us defeat the enemy’s magic. I heard it from one of the maids.”

“Really?” asked Thomas. “Which one?”

“Oh, no one is saying which one of you is the witch, though it certainly couldn’t be George. Can you see him, whispering to the Banished?” She giggled. “Now, Eileen would make a perfect little hedge-witch—wild, ragged hair, be-spelling a young scholar.” She giggled again and before Thomas could open his mouth, she added, “I have to go. Father is taking us all to dinner in town. Tomorrow, let’s get together!”

She is just getting to be more and more fun
, Thomas thought, watching her go.
What’s she playing at?

Thomas went up the stairs to his tower, shed his coat and rapier and put the book on the shelf. Thomas promised himself he’d add others as soon as he thought of a way to get money out of Henry. He mulled what he was going to say as he went back down the stairs.

Halfway to the hall, Thomas heard Eileen’s voice. Her tone was unmistakably sharp, though Thomas couldn’t make out the words. Several male voices protested, then Baron Goshawk’s voice rose above them, “That is quite enough of that.”

Thomas picked up his pace and rounded the last corner to see Eileen walking into the great hall on Baron Goshawk’s arm. There was no one else in the hallway. Thomas followed them into the great hall, and got to see the expression of surprise on George’s face. Thomas reached the table in time to hear Eileen saying, “The baron met me in the hallway and offered to escort me.”

“And why did Eileen need an escort?” Thomas asked, making Eileen start. Her face was flushed. Baron Goshawk opened his mouth to explain but Eileen cut him off.

“I did not need one,” she said. “The baron offered. I accepted.”

The baron looked askance at her but said nothing. Thomas wanted to ask about what he had heard in the hallway, but Eileen was already thanking the baron, who bowed first to her, then to George, and left. Eileen sat down and asked George, “How was the day?”

George described his work at the forge in detail. Thomas kept looking at Eileen, who was still flushed and looking not at all pleased. George also seemed curious, but kept his peace. “And how was your time in the city?’”

“Not productive,” said Thomas. “We found a bookseller, but didn’t find anything worthwhile. Eileen, are you all right?”

“I’m just hungry, is all. How long until dinner?”

“A while yet,” said Henry from behind them. He was dressed for going out and had his rapier and dagger on his hips. “And we won’t eat it here. I want to spend the evening out.”

“We’ve been out all day,” said Eileen. “Freezing, I might add.”

“
You
spent the day wandering aimlessly,” said Henry, “
I
am taking you for dinner.”

“A good dinner?” asked George.

“One of the finest,” said Henry. “Though not in the nicest neighbourhood. Are you coming?”

“Oh, aye,” said George. “May as well see the town before I’m locked up in one of the forges for the winter.”

“Meet me by the door in a quarter hour.”

It took very little time for Thomas to get his winter gear back on and get back to the great hall. He found Henry leaning against the wall by the door, talking quietly with Amelia. Thomas groaned to himself, sure she was coming with them. As he drew closer, though, Thomas found that Henry was disabusing her of the notion.