Cold Magics (6 page)

“Is it true the bishop threw fire?” asked Baron Meekin.

“It is,” said Thomas.

“And you survived?”

“He didn’t throw it very well.”

Meekin chuckled at that. Baron Cavish shook his head. “I can scarce credit it.”

“Baron Cavish has not come under attack yet,” said Meekin. “He has only heard stories of what these attackers do. I lost my town to them.”

“I’m sorry,” said Thomas.

“Have you agreed to come north, then, Master Thomas?” asked Cavish.

“I have,” said Thomas. “Though my father may follow and drag me back to my studies.”

Cavish chuckled, this time. “I would, were you my son.”

“
And is Eileen joining us as well?” asked Meekin, sounding rather disapproving.

“No,” said Thomas, before Eileen could answer. “Eileen’s parents don’t even know she’s here. If they find out I’ve taken her north, I’ll never be able to go home again.”

“Your parents don’t know where you are?” said Cavish, looking appalled. “How did you get here?”

“Boat,” said Eileen. “Then walked.”

“But…” The baron was practically stuttering. “Why?”

“To go to the Academy.”

“You?” asked Cavish, laughing.

“Me,” said Eileen, glaring at Thomas. “And I’ll come north, if you let me.”

“It is better you don’t, child,” said Meekin. “The raiders are not gentle with women.”

“Also, I should feel most upset if George was required to pull my head off because his little sister was hurt while under my protection,” said Henry.

Eileen crossed her arms and looked at the table. Her expression spoke volumes. Thomas rose to his feet. “I think Eileen and I should make our way home. It will be a long day tomorrow, and we should get some rest.”

“The girl is staying with you?” Baron Meekin looked positively affronted at the news.

“In her own room,” said Thomas, feeling suddenly defensive. “She has to stay somewhere.”

“She can stay here,” said Henry. “And so can you.”

“Henry—”

“
Lord
Henry,” corrected Henry. “You’ll have to respect to my rank when you come north.” He smiled. “Better get used to it now.”

“Of course,
Lord
Henry,” said Thomas. “But I think that we—”

“And that includes obeying my commands,” said Henry, smiling even wider.

You son of a…
Thomas managed a smile back, and hoped Henry could read the mayhem in it.

“I don’t have to obey your orders unless you’re taking me with you,” said Eileen, rising to her feet. “And if you’re not, there’s nothing you can say to make me want to stay here.”

Henry didn’t blink an eye. “How about a bath?”

Eileen started to draw breath to refuse.

“A large, private bath,” Henry continued, “with bath salts. And a warm, dry robe to wear in front of the fireplace of your warm, private room with a very large, very comfortable bed.”

Eileen bit her lip. Henry kept going.

“And a set of new, clean clothes. And the ones you are wearing now washed and cleaned for you by morning.”

“I’d take it,” said Meekin. “It’s better than walking home in the cold.”

“I’ll even make Thomas take a bath, too,” said Henry. “As he most certainly needs one.”

“Hey!”

Eileen ignored Thomas’s protest, instead glaring at Henry. He waited, smiling. Finally, she gave in. “All right. I’ll stay.”

“Wonderful!” Henry bounced to his feet, went to the bell and rang it. A servant appeared at once. “Rooms,” said Henry. “One for each of these two, plus baths, fresh clothes and breakfast in the morning, please.” He held out a hand to Eileen. “My lady?”

Eileen ignored it. “I’m still coming with you.”

“No you’re not,” said Henry, still smiling. “Now off with you, and clean off that dirt that’s smudging your pretty face.”

“Oh!” Eileen picked up her sword-belt and started toward the door. Thomas followed, his own sword-belt in hand. He waited until the doors closed behind them. “Leave it to Henry to find your weakness.”

“If he thinks he’s getting rid of me this easily, he’s mistaken.”

Thomas sighed. “You can’t come, Eileen.”

“Why not?” she demanded, her voice getting louder with each word. “What am I supposed to do? Go home?”

“Yes!”

“But I don’t want to!” Eileen stopped in the middle of the hall. The servant moved a discreet distance away and became extremely interested in polishing a candle sconce with his handkerchief as Eileen rounded on Thomas. “You saw me tonight! I can fight!”

“It was your first real fight,” said Thomas. “And you were lucky they weren’t that good or they would have killed you.”

“The only real fights you’ve been in were against the bishop!”

“Aye, but I’ve had four years of training. You’ve had three months!”

“But I need to go!”

“Well, you can’t!” Thomas headed down the hall towards the servant.

“Thomas!”

Thomas forced himself not to turn back. “Please take us to our rooms.”

The servant hesitated only a moment. “This way, if you please.”

Thomas followed him and a few moments later heard Eileen do the same. The servant led them upstairs to a pair of luxurious rooms and, promising their baths would be soon available, bowed and left. Thomas looked back at Eileen, standing in her doorway. She glared at him, then stepped inside and slammed the door shut. Thomas glared at where she had been standing, then went to his own room, closing the door behind himself a little more firmly than necessary.

5

It took Thomas a fair while to fall asleep, even after the hot bath and a glass of mulled wine. He drank it while staring at the fire and brooding about Eileen. If only the girl would see reason, everything would be much easier.
Of course, if she would see reason, she wouldn’t be Eileen.

When sleep finally came, Thomas found himself standing on a frozen hill looking down on the corpses of all those he’d ever cared for, listening to far off drumming that metamorphosed itself into the sound of loud knocking on his door. Thomas woke up and blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the window. The knocking continued—quiet, polite, and insistent. Thomas forced himself out of bed, wrapped a blanket around his body, and stumbled to the door. When he opened it, the servant on the other side bowed and handed Thomas a bundle: his own clothes, clean and dry, and a suit of much finer fabric that would not look out of place at court. “Lord Henry sends his compliments and asks you to join him for breakfast.”

“Of course,” said Thomas. “What is the time?”

“The morning bells have rung,” said the servant. “The sun has been up for perhaps two hours.”

There was no way he was going to make his morning classes, Thomas realized. But then, he wasn’t going to make any other classes either, so it hardly mattered. He thanked the servant, closed the door, and stumbled to the wash-basin to scrub the sleep off his face.

A short while later, leaving the fancy clothes behind in favour of his own and carrying his sword-belt in his hand, Thomas followed the servant to the large dining room where Henry had faced off with Sir Martin the night before. Henry and his courtiers were already there eating a substantial breakfast. Eileen was there as well, sitting two seats down on Henry’s left. She, too, had dressed in her clothing from the night before, and her sword hung on the back of her chair. The seat to her right was empty, putting Thomas directly between her and Henry. Baron Cavish sat directly beside Henry on the right, and Sir Lawrence directly beside the baron. Henry was making it very clear who his favourites were. Thomas scanned the table and found Sir Martin sitting at the furthest possible seat, his countenance carefully bland.

“Good morning, Thomas,” said Henry. “Join us.”

Thomas did, hanging his sword on the chair. Eileen didn’t say “good morning” or smile at him, just gave him a glare before turning her attention back to her food. It was the largest breakfast Thomas had seen in his life. The others had already dug into the food and Thomas, guessing that little conversation was going to occur until everyone was finished eating, did likewise. He was well stuffed before he’d tried even half the dishes. Eileen spent more time playing with her food than eating it.

“The chancellor is speaking to the king this morning,” said Henry around a mouthful of sausage. “Hopefully that will get us in to the king this afternoon or tomorrow. Once that audience is over, we leave.” He swallowed. “I’m speaking to the principal of the Academy this morning, and hope to address the students this afternoon or tomorrow.”

“How many of them will come?” asked Cavish.

“Not many,” said Henry. “We’ll get maybe a hundred interested, and of those only half will know how to use their swords properly. Of those, only half will be able to get permission to leave.”

“So maybe twenty-five men?”

“Barely men,” said Baron Meekin. “They start the Academy at fourteen, don’t they?”

“We won’t take any younger than sixteen,” said Henry. “And all that come will have fencing experience.”

“But not battle experience,” said Cavish.

“None of the men we find will have battle experience,” said a burly fellow with a greying beard—Sir Patrick, Thomas remembered. “The South has been peaceful for a long time. The best we can hope for is some weapons training among the students, and some battle discipline from the soldiers.”

“And what will you two be doing this day?” asked Henry, looking at Thomas and Eileen.

“Making arrangements,” said Thomas. “If Eileen is staying here until her father comes for her, I need to leave a note at the apartment. Also, I should collect some things,” he added, thinking of the spell books secured inside the wall of his room.

“Eileen?” repeated Sir Patrick.

“Me,” snapped Eileen. “I’m a girl.”

“A girl?” Patrick’s eyes went wide. “Dressed as a boy and carrying a sword? If my daughter did that, I’d…” He shook his head. “I can’t even think of what I’d do.”

“Well, you’d better think fast, Patrick,” said the man across from him. “She’s getting of an age.”

“The Father save us, I hope not!” said Patrick, fervently.

A chuckle made its way around the table.

“You’ll need winter clothes,” Henry said to Thomas. “Frostmire is unfortunately prone to living up to its name.” Another round of chuckles circled the table. “There was snow on the ground when we left.”

“Wonderful,” said Thomas.

“Sir Michael,” Henry gestured to the man who had joked with Sir Patrick moments before. “Would you take Thomas shopping?”

“In a few hours, if I may, Lord Henry,” said Michael. “I still have some matters to square away with the shipmasters who are bringing supplies north for us.”

“Afternoon is fine,” said Thomas. “It will give me time to get organized.”

“Here,” Henry tossed a purse on the table in front of Thomas. “For the winter gear you’ll need, as well as a horse and tack once we land in Weaversland. And this,” Henry slid a letter across the table, “is for your father.”

Thomas looked at the letter in surprise, then at Henry. The young lord smiled. “I didn’t think that a letter from you saying that you’ve left school would endear you to him. That one has the seal of Frostmire on it, and a very well-written apology for requiring your services.”

“Thank you, Henry,” said Thomas. “I’ll still need to write my own, but this will help.”

“You’re welcome,” said Henry. “And now, we should all be about our business.” He stood, and the rest of his company rose to its feet. Thomas and Eileen followed suit a moment later. “We’ll meet back here by end of day, gentlemen. With luck, we will have the answer we want from the king and the things we’ll need from the merchants.”

He left, Lawrence and Cavish following in his wake. Michael approached Thomas while the others headed out the door. “Lord Henry showed me your apartments yesterday morning. I’ll meet you there after the noon bell.”

“Thank you,” said Thomas. The man bowed slightly, then left. Thomas looked to Eileen. “Did you want to come with me?”

“No,” said Eileen. “But there’s nothing else to do and I’m not going to sit here.”

Thomas sighed. “Are you going to be like this all day?”

“Like what?”

Thomas felt his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t worth the argument. “Let’s go.”

The street outside was busy. Well-dressed men—lawyers, for the most part, to judge by their clothes—moved purposely to or from their appointments in the palace environs. Across the street, a group of merchants stood talking to one another, rubbing their hands together to keep warm. The air was brisk, and once more Thomas regretted not owning a warmer cloak. Eileen’s clothes were lighter, and her cloak hardly warm at all. After a block, Thomas put his cloak over her shoulders, doing his best to ignore the chill that sank through his thin coat. Eileen nearly pushed it off, but Thomas held it on her shoulders. “It’s too cold to fight about it here,” he said. “Come on.”

Eileen glared at him again, but wrapped the cloak around herself and followed him from the clean-swept area around the residence, through busy streets of merchants and tradesmen, and through the poorer residential neighbourhoods inside the walls. The streets had garbage in them and beggars sat on the road calling for coins. Men and women moved about quickly, shivering as they made their way to their work and moving reluctantly aside for the occasional carriage or horseman. The buildings were crowded close together, and one had to step carefully to avoid the sewers. They reached the student quarter in a half hour of brisk walking.

“Where to now?” Eileen asked.

“There’s a bindery nearby,” said Thomas. “I need to find a good, thick journal to use on the trip.”

“For your—” Eileen stopped herself, “for your writings?”

Thomas smiled. “Aye, for them. I’ll take the four I’ve got, but I’ll need another one to condense down what’s useful from the other books.” He looked around, orienting himself. “This way.”

“Will it be warm there?” Eileen asked, wrapping her arms around her body.

“I hope so,” said Thomas, who had been working very hard at not feeling the cold. “We should get you a proper winter coat.”