Cold Magics (4 page)

“I don’t know.”

“How about fog?”

“Don’t know.”

“Any other new tricks you’ve learned?”

“Some,” said Thomas. “The place is free of vermin. And I have a spell that keeps my things from being lost.”

“And that’s all you’ve experimented on?” Henry shook his head. “I know what you were doing all summer, but surely you’ve had more time than that since you’ve come back.”

“That wasn’t all I was doing!” Thomas realized how the words sounded the moment after they left his mouth. “I mean, I have tried other spells,” he said, pointing at the bookshelf. “I collect them, now.”

“Are these all spell books?” asked Eileen, going to the shelves. “I thought they were your schoolbooks.”

“They’re mostly schoolbooks and some plays,” said Thomas. “But about a dozen have a spell or two in them.”

“Have you written them all down in one place?” asked Henry.

Thomas shook his head. “Collecting old books is allowed, if odd. Collecting bits of magic is frowned upon. Plus I haven’t really had time.”

“Why not?” demanded Henry.

“School,” said Thomas, slowly. “I’ve been doing my school work.”

“Still doing that double in philosophy and law?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane,” said Henry. “Now, come on. I’m hungry and the Quill awaits.”

Henry led them out of the apartment and through streets at a brink pace, seemingly oblivious to the cold, wet air. His slight limp was new, hardly noticeable as he walked. Thomas and Eileen kept pace beside him.

“What happened to your leg?” asked Thomas.

“Arrow,” said Henry. “Night raid on a village. We saw the flames and rode out, straight into an ambush. Pity you weren’t there.”

Henry led them on a route that Thomas could have followed blindfolded, to the Broken Quill—a large, noisy tavern near the edge of the student quarter. Even at this early hour it was full of students. Some were still in their robes from class, others were in their evening best, most were somewhere in between. Rapiers were everywhere, though all were sheathed. Girls were plentiful, too—mostly shop-girls, Thomas judged from their clothes, though a few were much better dressed.

The place was noisy, cheerful, and rather well-mannered. Arguments were plentiful, but none escalated beyond words. It may have been the presence of two very large, identical men who sat on a pair of chairs just inside the door, one looking in and the other looking out. They had equally scarred and broken faces, and matching thick, long clubs. Each would have easily dwarfed George. They nodded pleasantly at Thomas and Henry.

“Good evening, Master Thomas,” said the one looking out.

“Good evening, Marcus.”

“Fenris,” corrected the large man, without changing expression.

“My apologies,” said Thomas, with a short bow.

The big man nodded. “And Lord Henry. We had not expected to see you here, this term.”

“Nor I,” said Henry. “How are things?”

“Calm,” said Fenris. “I hope you will help keep them that way.”

“Of course,” said Thomas. “May we introduce my cousin Alex?”

Fenris looked her up and down, and one eyebrow rose. “Marcus?”

The other man turned around. “Yes?”

“This is…” the pause was barely noticeable, “Alex.”

Marcus looked Eileen up and down exactly the way Fenris had. His expression didn’t change either. “Of course it is.”

“I trust that that Alex,” said Fenris, lightly emphasizing the name, “will not be the cause of any trouble in our establishment?”

“No,” promised Thomas. “He will not.”

“Good.” Fenris gestured with one hand. “Enter.”

“Don’t bother with a table,” said Henry, heading for the bar. “I’ll get us a private room.”

“What was that at the door?” asked Eileen, raising her voice to be heard above the din. “It felt like they were looking right through me.”

“They were,” said Thomas.

“Do you think that they know…?”

“Yes,” said Thomas. “I doubt it’s the first time. Fortunately, they’re the souls of discretion. As long as you don’t cause trouble, they won’t say a thing.”

Henry spoke to the bartender, and then led Thomas and Eileen through the crowded room and up the stairs to the balcony that ran the length of the building. A half-dozen doors opened to private rooms. Henry picked one and led them in. He shut the door behind them, and the sudden reduction in noise level was at once jarring and a relief. The room was large enough for a dozen, with a round table surrounded by comfortable-looking leather lined chairs and an empty fireplace on the outer wall. Henry threw himself down in a chair near the fire.

“Sit,” he said. “Food and drink are coming.”

They sat, and before Thomas could ask more questions there was a knock on the door. Three women came in, bringing two pitchers of beer and three mugs; a large tray of cheese and bread; and a load of wood for the fire. Thomas took a beer, drank, and munched on the bread and cheese until the women were out of the room. The moment the door closed, he asked, “Are you sure the enemy is using magic against you?”

“Very,” said Henry around his own mouthful. He swallowed it and took a drink before continuing. “They call fire,” he said. “They use it on my troops and our towns. They appear out of a fog on nights where there’s no reason for it to be foggy.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “They call water, turning a field that was dry footing the day before into a swamp overnight. And they’re toppling over hundred-year-old palisades without much problem at all.”

Henry took another drink. When he spoke again they could hear the frustration in his voice. “We’ve been fighting them for three months. We’ve lost a dozen villages and a pair of good-sized towns. God knows how many are dead. And the worst of it is that they’re never there long enough to fight. They only attack at night, they destroy a place, and then they disappear again. We’ve never been able to engage them in the field. The closest was a month ago, when I got the arrow in my leg. That time, they fired the bridge under our feet to escape us.”

“Who are they?” asked Eileen. “Where are they from?”

“Well, that’s the other problem,” said Henry. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” said Thomas and Eileen together.

“My father thinks it’s the northern tribes, come to try to take the duchy again,” said Henry. “The tactics are similar. They like to hit and run, attacking wherever the troops aren’t until they can draw out a large enough force. Then they fall on us like flies. We lost some good men to the tribes, six years ago.” Henry’s face was bleak, and for a moment he wasn’t seeing Thomas and Eileen anymore, but something distant and horrible. “But it’s not the tribes. I’m sure of it. Their armour is different. So are their weapons. And they don’t take anything. They just slaughter whoever they can. Soldiers, villagers, nobility, makes no difference.”

There was another knock at the door, and Henry called, “Come in, if you’re bringing food.”

Instead of dinner, it was a travel-worn man with fine clothes and a thick-bladed sword at his side. “My lord,” he said. “We have been looking for you.”

“And since I left word as to where I was going, I doubt that you have had difficulty finding me,” said Henry.

The other man cleared his throat. “Several of the southern lords are staying in the Residence. I thought it would be worth our while for you to speak to them,” he spared a disdainful glance for Thomas and Eileen, “since we are here to recruit men to fight, my lord.”

“I am recruiting men, Sir Martin.”

“I fail to see how two students would make a difference, my lord.”

One of Henry’s eyebrows went up. “Thomas here has killed a dozen men in battle, and is, when I am away, the deadliest swordsman in the city.” Henry’s voice was quiet and edged with something so dangerous that Thomas found his hand going to his rapier of its own volition. “Are you questioning me?”

Sir Martin stood his ground. “I am here as an adviser, my lord, and—”

“You are here because my brother wanted one of his toadies among the party. Do not presume that your relationship with him gives you the right to question what I do.”

Sir Martin stiffened and turned red, but held his tongue.

“I am seeing the Lord Chancellor in the morning,” Henry continued. “Have my clothes been laid out?”

“I don’t know, my lord,” said Martin, his face still red. “I believe the staff at the Residence were making the necessary arrangements.”

“Go make sure,” said Henry. “And once you have made sure, I suggest you retire at once, to preserve your energy for tomorrow.”

“I…” the man’s face grew darker, but he managed a strangled, “Yes, my lord.”

“Good evening, Sir Martin.”

“Good evening, my lord.” Martin bowed, turned on his heel, and left.

“Wow,” said Eileen, as soon as the door closed behind the knight. “What did he do to you?”

“Very little,” said Henry. “Almost to the point of treason.”

“What did you say about your brother?” asked Thomas.

“My middle brother, John, has his eye on Richard’s—my eldest brother’s—titles,” said Henry. “Sir Martin is one of his knights. You’ll need to be careful of him.”

“Especially now that you’ve humiliated him in front of me,” said Thomas.

“People are dying while I’m here,” snapped Henry. “It will take two weeks with a favourable wind for us to get north—longer for any troops the king gives us. I don’t have time to be second-guessed by my brother’s spy. Either Martin does as he is told, or he will be left here. With or without his head, as the situation dictates.”

Eileen made a face. “That’s… awful.”

There was another knock, and a woman delivered a tray of steaming hot roast beef that Thomas was sure would more than fill the three of them. Henry waited for the door to close behind her before speaking again. “Thomas, I need to stop these raiders, and I need to your help to do it. Will you come?”

Thomas thought about the classes he was going to miss, about how worried his parents would be, and how cold it was going to be in Frostmire. He sighed. “Of course I will.”

“Good.” Henry picked up a fork and started serving the roast. “Eat up, and eat well. Provisions may be scarce by the time we get to Frostmire.”

“What about me?” asked Eileen.

“What about you?” returned Henry.

“Can I come?”

“Oh, no!” said Thomas, before Henry could speak. “Her father will kill me!”

“I can help,” protested Eileen. She looked at Henry. “I could help.”

“How?” asked Henry.

“I helped when we were running from the bishop,” Eileen said.

“Aye,” said Henry. “You did.”

“And now I know how to fence, as well.”

“And?”

“And, can I come?”

“No!” protested Thomas. “It’s dangerous.”

She turned on him. “Fighting the bishop was dangerous, and I did that!”

“And what do we tell your parents?”

“They don’t need to know where I’ve gone.”

“Oh, yes they do!” Thomas thumped the table. “Eileen, your parents have been a second family to me. I’d never have survived the summer without their help. I’m not going to drag their daughter into a war!”

“You wouldn’t be dragging me!”

“You are not coming!” snapped Thomas. “They’re probably already looking for you and scared out of their wits! I won’t make it worse for them!”

“But you’ll make it worse for me?” Eileen demanded.

“Worse than being gang-raped by a troop of soldiers?” Henry asked, his voice quiet. “And being left to die screaming in a ditch?”

Eileen faltered. “You don’t know those things will happen.”

“Those things always happen in war,” said Henry. “And if we lose, they will most likely happen to you.”

Eileen looked for something else to say, but couldn’t find it. Henry took advantage of the silence. “We can’t leave Eileen here in the city by herself. If her father doesn’t show up in the next three days, we’ll put her on a raft to Elmvale.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “And if he does, I might just recruit him.”

“Don’t you dare!” said Eileen. “Not unless you’re taking me with you.”

“Which I am not.”

“We’ll see,” said Eileen.

Henry smoothly changed the topic, telling Eileen tales of the Academy, including several about Thomas that he’d hoped Eileen would never hear. They served their purpose, though, making Eileen laugh in spite of herself and lightening the mood all around. Thomas got his revenge with a couple of stories on Henry that nearly made Eileen choke on her beer. When the last of the food and drink was cleared away, Henry purchased a torch to light their way and led them out of the inn and into the cold night once more. Instead of guiding them back to the apartment, though, he led them in the opposite direction.

“Where to?” asked Thomas. “Another tavern?”

“Yes,” said Henry. “But not immediately. There is a theatre in the southern quarter that performs at night.”

“At night?” Eileen was sceptical. “How do you see the actors?”

“Candles and lamps,” said Henry. “Lots of each.”

“Sounds expensive,” said Thomas.

“It is,” said Henry. “But I’m buying.”

The south quarter was dominated by the king’s palace. The wide, tree-lined streets around it were well-maintained and free of garbage. Large buildings stood in neat rows. Some of them were government offices, where men kept track of taxes and tariffs and all the other business of the kingdom. Others were homes; manors for the well-to-do who judged their worth by their proximity to royalty, and whose fences stood high to keep outsiders from seeing into their grounds. The few businesses here were of the sort not patronized by the poorer classes. In short order they passed three goldsmiths, a pair of clothiers—one for men, one for women—and a wine merchant whose sign boasted imported and exotic wines. All the shops had their shutters closed for the night, but Thomas had no doubt that the wares behind their windows were as expensive as the land they stood upon.

“I wonder how much the dresses in there would cost.” Eileen pointed at the dress shop.

“More than anything that’s made from my father’s cloth, I would guess,” said Thomas. “More money than we’ll ever see.”