Cold Magics (31 page)

“Aye,” said Eileen. “I do. Wear it to the next banquet. The girls will swoon.”

“The girls will think I’m trying to be something I’m not,” said George, though he hadn’t looked away from the mirror yet. “They’ll think I’m trying to be one of my betters.”

“They won’t care,” said Thomas. “Now come on. And don’t forget your cloaks. We have to go outside to get there.”

Baron Goshawk’s rooms were on the far end of the castle, and took up the top floor of one of the old outbuildings against what had once been the inner wall. Thomas followed the baron’s directions exactly and they found themselves outside, looking across a narrow courtyard at the baron’s rooms. The air was bitterly cold, and they wrapped their cloaks tight around themselves as they dashed across the courtyard and up the stairs. After a quick, hard knock, a servant opened the door and let them into a small anteroom with a single candelabrum that flickered violently in the cold wind that gusted in with them. The servant took and hung up their cloaks, then opened the inner door.

The baron had a large parlour whose many candles and paired fireplaces bathed the room in a warm yellow light. The room looked to run half the length of the building and was filled with chairs clustered together to provide little conversational groupings while still being open to the rest of the room. Two musicians played a gentle air on mandolin and violin from a spot between the fireplaces, while a group of ten or so young men and women sat in chairs nearby, looking on and listening. Several shot glances in the direction of the new arrivals, but none interrupted the music. The baron was sitting among them, his eyes closed as he let the music wash over him. On the other side of the room, a table was spread with food—though not, Thomas noticed, an abundance of it.

In another set of chairs, a half-dozen of the young lords lounged, drinks in their hands, talking desultorily amongst themselves. Eileen tensed at the sight of them. Thomas took a glance her way and saw her biting her lip. Another three girls sat with them, doing their best to look attentive and only occasionally casting wistful glances at the other young folk by the musicians.

The musicians drew their song to a close, and the people sitting around them gave a brief round of applause before rising and breaking up into groups. The baron rose, spotted Thomas and his friends, and immediately called to the group.

“Friends, these are Thomas Flarety and George and Eileen Gobhann, friends of Lord Henry’s from the South.”

“So, these are Lord Henry’s mysterious friends,” said one young man, smiling at them. “Any ideas what Henry’s up to tonight?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Thomas. “I haven’t seen him since before breakfast.”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in two months and he owes me money,” said another young man, coming up with a young woman leaning on his arm. “Winston, by the way. He’s Mark, and this is Cecily.”

“And may I present Alice, Lauren, Lisa and Elly,” said Baron Goshawk, pointing to each of the girls in turn. “And these young men are Peter, Jonathan, Gregory and Harold.” He turned, directing Thomas, George and Eileen to the young lords, who were still lounging in their chairs. “And these are Lords James, Charles, Anthony, Andrew, Cormac and Geoffrey.”

Thomas bowed politely to the lords, George doing the same, and Eileen staring at them with undisguised hostility while managing a curtsey. The lords were grinning at her. Eileen turned her attention away from them at once.

What is going on with her?
Thomas wondered.
And what have they been up to that she’s so angry at them?

“And may I present Miss Melissa, Miss Rosemary and Miss Leslie.”

Thomas bowed again. “Charmed.”

“Lady Melissa is Lord Anthony’s sister. Lady Rosemary is sister to Lord Edward, who couldn’t be here tonight, and so has been accompanied by Lady Leslie and escorted by Lord Charles.”

“And a good thing, too,” said Melissa, “If it hadn’t been for his escort and Lady Leslie’s company, we wouldn’t have been able to come at all.”

“And the evening would be duller for it,” said George, bowing.

“Oh, you!” said Melissa, smiling even as she waved him away.

“Good to meet you all at last,” said Winston, holding out a hand for Thomas to shake. “There’s rumours floating all around about you three.”

“Are there?”

“Oh, yes,” said Cecily, capturing Eileen’s arm. “Come let me introduce you to the other girls and you can tell us all which ones are true.”

Eileen looked uncertainly at Thomas, then swallowed and put on a smile. “Is Amelia among them?”

“Amelia? Not yet,” said Cecily, as she led Eileen away. “But she will be, I’m sure.”

“Wonderful,” muttered Eileen, but she allowed herself to be led away.

“Come get a drink,” said Winston. “Then you can tell us all about yourselves.” He took George’s arm and led him off towards a table laden with wine bottles. The big man went without protest, and Thomas heard Winston asking, “So how hard is being a smith?”

For the next little while the conversation was polite and light. Eileen was soon at the centre of the girls, many of whom had questions about Thomas and George—especially George. Thomas soon learned that the majority of the guests were the children of merchants, save Winston who turned out to be the son of a knight.

“But never mind that,” said Winston, smiling again. “The rank hasn’t done my father much good, so I tend to ignore it.”

Thomas found himself pulled into a conversation on the merits of fox fur instead of wolverine for lining cloaks. George looked quite uncomfortable for a while, until Cecily started asking him about Elmvale, at which point George became much more attentive and charming.

Another gaggle of people arrived. Goshawk introduced them and Thomas tried to catch names, but there were close to a dozen of them and Thomas lost track. The music started again, and a drink was pressed into Thomas’s hand. He looked for Eileen and found that the girls still had her in their circle. Judging from the giggling and the surreptitious looks cast in the direction of the boys, Thomas decided he had no desire to be involved in the conversation. Besides, Eileen looked like she was having fun, and it had been a long time since Thomas had seen that. Surrendering to the press of people, Thomas joined in the nearest conversation and let the crowd swirl around him.

More people arrived and more drink flowed. The evening became livelier, and conversations ranged over dozens of topics, from the latest translation of a play Thomas had never heard of to the expense of good wine to rumours and speculation about the enemy outside the walls to the difficulty of finding a good cloak maker. The chairs were pushed aside and a small dance floor created. It was full at once, and it took Thomas three songs before he could even reach Eileen to capture her for a dance. She stayed with him a little while, then was swept away by another group of girls and young men.

Baron Goshawk worked easily through the room, putting all those in attendance at ease. He stopped for a dance with Eileen, but only one, and walked her back to Thomas right after it was finished. He mixed easily with nobility and burghers alike, and was pleasant to everyone around him. Several of the young lords were following Baron Goshawk’s example and treating all those around them with courtesy. They got a fair number of dances and joined the little conversation groups that formed and broke apart.

The rest of the lords behaved exactly the opposite, and got worse as the evening wore on, pushing their way forward in lines for food, or shouting down the musicians when they played music they didn’t like. Baron Goshawk did his best to keep them in hand, but Thomas had seen it before and guessed it was only a matter of time before trouble broke out.

It did, just before midnight.

Thomas was sitting with a cup of wine in his hand, deep in a discussion with Harold and Elly about the Beudlean philosophers when Lord Cormac stepped in front of him. “So, is it true?”

Lord James and Lord Anthony took up positions on either side of Thomas’s chair. Harold looked offended and Elly looked ready to say something, but held her tongue. Cormac saw Thomas looking at them and glanced over his shoulder to Harold. “Something you were wanting?”

“We were discussing the Beudleans, Lord Cormac,” said Harold. “Thomas was making a point about the relation of their beliefs to the development of free thinking as opposed to logical thinking as the primary mode of their society and I—”

“I don’t care.” Cormac turned back to Thomas. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” Thomas asked.

“That you’re a murderer,” said Lord Cormac, his voice louder than it needed to be. The guests immediately around them fell silent. Cormac nodded in satisfaction. Elly got up from her seat and walked away into the crowd. Harold stayed where he was, looking uncertain. Thomas started to rise from his chair, but Anthony and James pushed down on his shoulders. Cormac leaned down, putting his face in front of Thomas’s, keeping his voice loud. “I heard you murdered a southern bishop.”

“You heard wrong,” said Thomas. “I didn’t murder him.”

“Really?” said Cormac. “Because the story I heard is that you ran him through. Which makes you a murderer.” Cormac took Thomas’s drink from him and took a long pull from it. “Which leads me to ask: Why would Henry bring a criminal north?”

“I hear two men were killed bringing you north,” said Anthony, speaking just as loudly as Cormac. “Two knights died fighting off the raiders just so Henry could bring you here.”

Cormac leaned in close. “I heard that, too. So what makes you so important, Thomas?”

A space was clearing around the four of them, and even Harold was slipping back. Thomas tried to stand again and was once more shoved hard into his chair. He took a deep breath. “That is Lord Henry’s business,” he said. “And the duke’s.”

“Lord Cormac!” Amelia was suddenly beside the lord, her arm intertwining with his. “How are you this evening? And Thomas! What are you all talking about?”

“Amelia” said Cormac. “We were just asking Thomas here if he was a murderer.”

“Really?” said Lord John, stepping into the small circle. “And what has Thomas answered so far?”

“That he’s innocent, my Lord John,” said Lord Cormac. He glanced at Anthony and James and the weight pushing down on Thomas’s shoulders retreated. “That he didn’t kill the bishop at all.”

Thomas rose to his feet, keeping his eyes level and boring into Cormac’s. There was almost no distance between them. “I said I didn’t murder him,” said Thomas, “not that I didn’t kill him. Now if you will excuse me, I seem to need another drink.”

Thomas half-expected Cormac or one of the others to stop him, but none did. He made his way to the table with the wine, the crowd parting before him. Many glances were cast his way. Thomas ignored them and busied himself looking for a bottle. He poured himself a full measure from one on the corner of the table and raised it quickly to his lips to hide the trembling in his hands. The conversation in the room was gradually returning to normal levels.

“Thomas!” Amelia caught up to him and took his arm—not the one with the drink in it. “Is it true? Are you really a killer?”

The word shook Thomas to the core. He had never thought of himself as a killer, but he had been responsible for the deaths of more than a dozen men—from the standing stones, to the bishop, to the fight in the cold fields. Thomas sighed. “I really am.”

“Oh.” Amelia’s voice briefly lost its bright, gossipy edge. She was silent for a moment, then patted his arm. “They’re going to start dancing again, and you must dance with me. I insist on it.”

Thomas was not in the mood to dance and was looking for a polite way to say it when he heard a shout of “Hey!” and saw a commotion in the back of the room. Eileen pushed her way through the crowd, coming briefly into sight as she crossed the dance floor. She was crying. Thomas immediately put down his drink and moved to intercept her. He reached her just about at the door, catching her arm. “Eileen, what’s—”

Eileen whirled, knocking his arm away and bringing up a fist. She was furious, the tears on her face as much from rage as anything else. Thomas raised his hands and stepped back. “What happened?”

She turned away without answering and ran for the door. Thomas followed hard on her heels. “Eileen!”

He followed her into the front hall. Several couples were talking discreetly together in the relative quiet of the cold room. Near the front door, George was deep in conversation with Cecily. Eileen raced past him, shoving open the door and running out into the cold. Thomas chased after her, punching George on the shoulder on the way past, and caught her at the bottom of the stairs. “Eileen, wait! What happened?”

Eileen ignored him, running across the courtyard. Thomas grabbed her arm. “Eileen—”

She spun, hitting him. “Don’t touch me!”

“What happened?!”

“Nothing!”

“That’s not true.”

“Nothing that’s your business!”

“Eileen!” Thomas ran around in front of her, then sidestepped her to block her when she tried to go around him. “Eileen, please. Tell me what happened.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Eileen—”

“Move!” She shoved him aside and stomped past him to the side door that led to the keep proper. Thomas was torn between going after her and going back in to find out what exactly had happened. If Goshawk had been responsible…

George stepped out into the cold. Thomas saw him bow over someone’s hand—Cecily’s, at a guess—then hurry down the stairs and across the courtyard. He had his own cloak on, and Thomas’s and Eileen’s in his hand. Thomas only realized he was freezing when he saw the cloak.

“What’s going on?” George demanded. “Where’s Eileen?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” said Thomas, taking his cloak and wrapping himself in it. “Eileen’s furious at something and won’t tell me what.”

“Well, where is she?”

“She went inside.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” said George. “Come on.”

There was no sign of Eileen in the hallway. George increased his step, walking faster and faster until he was nearly running. Thomas kept up, following George to the family wing. They caught sight of Eileen in the hallway outside of her rooms. Thomas called out to her and Eileen picked up her pace, running to her room and pushing open the door. Thomas broke into a sprint, but Eileen had slipped inside and slammed the door shut before he could reach her. Even as he tried the handle, he heard her slamming a bolt into place.