Cold Magics (32 page)

“Eileen. Eileen! What happened?”

“Go away!”

Thomas pounded at the door, but she didn’t say anything else. George came up, knocked, and called his sister’s name. She still didn’t answer.

“What’s going on?” George looked at once worried and angry. “What happened in there?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “Cormac, James, and Anthony were trying to start a fight with me at the time. Probably to distract me.”

“I see.” George’s voice was a low rumble. “Maybe we should go back.”

“You can’t pick a fight with them,” said Thomas. “They’re nobles, remember?” He knocked at Eileen’s door again, not expecting an answer and not getting one. He stared at it in frustration, half tempted to ask George to kick it in. Instead, he took a deep breath. “See if she’ll talk to you,” said Thomas. “I’ll talk to Goshawk in the morning and find out what’s going on.”

“You think he had something to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “But I’m starting with him, and then I’m working my way through the rest of them.”

16

Thomas was first at practice the next morning. He wanted to speak to Henry before going after Baron Goshawk. Nothing Henry said was going to change his mind, of course, but he wanted to give his friend fair warning.

To Thomas’s surprise, Baron Goshawk was next to arrive, looking tired and angry. Thomas gave the baron a long stare as the man crossed the room. The baron nodded to him. “Thomas. Good morning.”

“Not really.”

The baron stopped, both from Thomas’s words and the coldness in his tone. “Has something happened?”

“Something happened at your party last night,” said Thomas.

“Ah, yes. I heard about Lord Cormac’s behaviour. Please accept my apologies—”

“I don’t really care about that,” said Thomas. He was about to go on when Eileen and George made their appearance. Eileen’s lips were tight-pressed together and George looked frustrated. Thomas guessed he’d had no luck getting anything out of Eileen that morning.

“Eileen,” Baron Goshawk stepped forward. “You left in a great hurry last night.”

“I’m sorry, Baron,” said Eileen, her voice hard and brittle. “Please excuse me.”

“Amelia said you seemed quite distraught.”

“Amelia will say whatever gets her the most attention,” snapped Eileen. “Has Lord Henry arrived yet?”

“Not yet,” said Henry from the door. Sir Lawrence and Sir Patrick were right behind him. “But I have it on good authority that he’ll be here very, very soon. Good morning, Baron. You had quite the little party last night.”

“I did,” said Baron Goshawk.

“I heard that some of your guests were asking Thomas some rather pointed questions.”

Goshawk grimaced. “I see Amelia has made the rounds with her gossip.”

“She and a half-dozen others. What happened to your hand, Eileen?”

Thomas and everyone else looked to Eileen’s hands, which she immediately put behind her back.

“Eileen” rumbled George. “Show me your hand.”

“No.”

“Eileen—” began Thomas.

“I said no. Now, are we practising or are we going to stand here, staring like idiots?”

Thomas was about to suggest they do the latter until Eileen offered up some answers, but Henry spoke first. “We’re going to practice. My turn to lead, I think. Weapons down.”

Henry ran them through the room, up and down the ladders and bars. Henry pushed chairs into the room, making people jump over them like an obstacle course, until they were all sweating and several of them had bruised shins. Eileen ran right behind Henry, throwing herself up the ladders and over the chairs. Thomas caught sight of her right hand halfway up one ladder. The knuckles were bruised and looked swollen. Eileen saw him looking and glared. Thomas kept his mouth shut and kept running.

After half an hour, Henry called them in. George and the baron were gasping. Eileen looked like she wanted to do the same, but refused to let herself. The two knights were puffing as well, and looking rather chagrined. Henry smiled at them all. “Right, drills or matches first?”

“Matches,” said Baron Goshawk. “And I claim Eileen for my partner.”

“Looking for revenge?” asked Eileen, picking up her rapier and going to the box for a button.

“For a wager.” The baron picked up his own blade and a button to put on it.

Eileen stopped in the middle of shrugging into her jacket. “A wager?”

“A wager,” said the baron. “You win, and I will give you and the friends of your choice a private dinner in my suite. Wine and musicians included.”

“Me and the friends of my choice?”

“And only the friends of your choice,” said the baron. “No other guests.”

“My brother could eat your entire larder in one go,” said Eileen. “What if I invite him and all of Henry’s knights?”

“Then you will beggar me,” said Goshawk. “Assuming I lose.”

“I know you’ll lose,” said Eileen.

“Then you’ll take the wager.”

“Wait!” said Thomas. “What happens if she loses?”

“She answers a question,” said the baron. “Honestly. With witnesses if you like, in private if you wish, but you answer.”

“What question?” asked Eileen.

“Well, that’s for me to know, isn’t it?” Baron Goshawk shrugged into his jacket. “Unless you’re scared of me?”

Eileen’s jaw clenched. “Rapiers and daggers.”

The baron smiled. “As you like.”

They finished putting on their gear, and the baron allowed Eileen to precede him onto the fencing floor. Eileen took up her position and put on her mask. “Come on, then.”

“Of course.” Baron Goshawk bowed and took his time putting his mask on.

“Right,” said Henry. “On guard.”

They both dropped into guard positions, blades reaching out until the tips crossed.

“Begin,” said Henry.

Eileen launched herself at the baron, both blades flashing out. The baron answered at speed, and immediately gave the first wound to Eileen. Henry called it to a halt and Eileen went back to her mark.

“She’s fighting angry,” said Sir Patrick. “Not a good thing.”

“Not at all,” agreed Thomas, watching them drop into guard once more.

This time, the baron was the one who pounced, immediately driving Eileen back. She dodged sideways and countered. It failed and the baron scored another hit. Eileen swore and stomped back to her place.

“Cool off!” called George. “You can take him.”

“You just want the dinner,” said Henry.

“Aye,” said George. “So cool off!”

Eileen dropped into guard and charged once more.

This exchange was longer. The baron was the better of the two, but he was taking his time, leaving no openings. He very obviously wanted to win the fight, and was allowing no room for error. Eileen was using her anger to good purpose, attacking viciously. Goshawk parried each one and scored a hit on Eileen’s leg.

Eileen pulled off her mask. “Stop it, will you?”

“Stop what?” said the baron, through his own mask. “Hitting you?”

“Stop playing with me,” snapped Eileen. “You want to fight me, fight. Don’t pussy-foot around.”

“I am fighting,” said the baron. “In fact, I’m winning.”

Eileen’s reply was succinct, and brought the baron’s eyebrows up. She pulled down her mask and assumed her guard. “Come on!”

The baron sank into his guard position and Eileen charged, her blade lashing out at his face, forcing him into a quick retreat. She kept pressing, and Goshawk spun to avoid being driven off the floor.

On the sidelines, Thomas felt his heart try to crawl into his throat. Goshawk was fighting harder now, driving Eileen back as fiercely as she had been driving him the moment before. Thomas desperately wanted to jump onto the floor and stop the match. Eileen would never forgive him, he knew, and from the way the baron was moving, neither would he.

“Look at the fool!” crowed a voice from the door. “He’s fighting the girl!”

Thomas turned and found a score of young nobles crowding into the hall. Thomas identified Cormac, Anthony, James and Charles, all clothed as they had been the night before. The others, he didn’t recognize.

“Get her, Goshawk!”

“Five silvers on the girl!”

“She looks to be your match, Goshawk!”

They all were grinning, save one that was sporting impressively bruised eyes and what looked to be a broken nose. They were also all wearing swords.

“Gentlemen,” Thomas heard Henry say, though he didn’t take his eyes off the match. “What brings you—”

Eileen, turning to avoid an attack, looked past Thomas’s shoulder to the men advancing behind him. She faltered, missing a step and not quite driving her point fast enough toward Goshawk. The baron’s response was brutal. A twist of his wrist knocked her blade up and his button-covered tip drove underneath it, slamming into the centre of her chest and, with her balance already off, knocking her backwards to the ground. Eileen hit hard on her back, crying out in pain and anger.

“Brilliant hit!” shouted James. “Knocked her over!”

Thomas, torn between hitting James, running to Eileen, and keeping the fencing floor sacrosanct, hesitated long enough for the baron to strip off his mask and say, “Are you all right?”

“Course she is!” called another of the lords.

Suddenly all twenty of them pushed forward, forcing Thomas back as they crowded around the fencing floor, filling the air with the stench of alcohol-laden breath and sweat. George started forward, then hesitated, knowing the lords’ rank protected them from anything he could say or do.

“Gentlemen—” called Henry again.

Cormac’s voice overrode him. “What was the wager, Goshawk?”

“Yeah, what did you win?”

“A dance?”

“A kiss?”

“Her virtue?”

“If she has any.”

“When you’re done, could I win some of it, too?”

Henry’s hand closed around Thomas’s wrist before Thomas could grab his sword. Sir Patrick and Sir Lawrence had George’s arms, and Patrick was saying something into his ear. George was radiating anger, but held his ground. Eileen had pushed herself into a sitting position and shoved the mask off her head. “Don’t,” Henry warned Thomas, keeping a tight grip on his sword-wrist.

Goshawk offered a hand to Eileen and she slapped it away with the back of her dagger-filled hand, struggling to her feet by herself. The lords laughed and crowded forward. Lord Cormac stepped onto the fencing floor. “Well, Goshawk?”

“Whatever wager I had is none of your concern,” said Goshawk, stepping forward to intercept Cormac. “Nor is it appropriate for you to be on the fencing floor.”

“Told you there was a wager!” called Cormac over his shoulder. “No man would fight a girl otherwise. And the match is over, Goshawk. Unless the girl isn’t sporting enough to acknowledge the hit. Tell us, Eileen, are you a sporting girl?”

Eileen turned dark red but held her tongue. Cormac turned back to Goshawk. “Now come on, what did you win? And have you left her in any shape to pay a forfeit?”

Charles stepped onto the floor behind Cormac. “She certainly looks fit. Especially in those breeches.”

“Get away from me.” The words ground out of Eileen’s throat.

“Or what?”

The man with the broken nose stepped onto the fencing floor. “Maybe I should try her blade instead of her hands,” he said. “What do I get if I win, little girl?”

Eileen stripped the buttons from her rapier and dagger with a quick motion. “I said I would cut you two into ribbons the next time I saw you.”

“And why did she say that, Charles?” asked Henry, his voice loud enough to carry through the room. “Ethan?”

“Not your concern,” said the lord with the black eyes—Ethan.

“Ten on the girl,” called another of the nobles.

“It’s my concern,” said Thomas, throwing off Henry’s hand and stepping forward. “What did you do to Eileen?”

“Stay out of it, Thomas,” snapped Eileen. She raised her rapier and pointed it at Ethan’s chest. “Get out of here.”

“No,” said Ethan.

Goshawk stepped past Cormac and faced Ethan. “I think you forget yourself,
Lord
Ethan.”

“And I think the wench forgets herself,
Baron
Goshawk.” sneered Ethan. “Now, what was the wager?”

“The wager was, if I win, Eileen would tell me what happened to make her run from my party in tears,” said Baron Goshawk. “And from the shape of your nose, Ethan, I think I have the answer.”

“Eileen is as free with her fists as she is with her favours,” said Charles, stepping onto the fencing floor. “And I’m sure she’ll show you both.”

Eileen stepped forward. “Don’t you speak of me like that!”

“I have blades, too, this time,” said Charles, grasping the hilt of his rapier. Enough of his sleeve pulled away that Thomas could see a bandage underneath. “Tell me, if I win the fight do I get my choice of your favours? Or do I have to wait in line like the rest?”

Thomas tore himself from Henry’s grasp. Behind him, he heard George shoving Sir Lawrence away and following. Eileen raised her rapier, but before she could act, Goshawk stepped forward and slapped Charles across the face.

“Foul!” called Ethan, stepping forward and drawing his own blade. Three other nobles charged onto the floor, pulling weapons. Three more shouted at them to stop and grabbed at them.

“Swords down!” shouted Henry. “Swords down, now!”

 Charles, pulling his rapier from its scabbard, dodged past Goshawk and charged Eileen. Anthony and Cormac closed in on her as well. A shout rose up from the gathered young men and more of them ran onto the fencing floor—some to join in the fight; others to stop it. Men began grappling and soon fists started flying and blades were being drawn.

Thomas tried to force his way through the crowd to Eileen and ended up on the receiving end of a fist meant for someone else. He stumbled back, running into another young man, who turned on him at once. Thomas evaded the other’s attack and hit back hard, feeling the other man’s nose break under his fist.

Eileen was being driven back by the three lords, their blades probing forward and keeping her on the defensive. Thomas was shoving his way toward her, pulling out his own blades, when George’s bellow shook the room. The big smith waded through the crowd of brawling young men, swinging a stick he’d picked up from a weapon rack and heading for his sister. Bodies scattered as he bulled his way forward, and shouts of rage and pain followed him across the floor.