Small Magics (28 page)

Once they got to Ailbe’s house, George wrapped Eileen in her blanket again, and helped her lay down on the floor beside the fireplace. He sat beside her, holding her hand. Thomas sat in the doorway, shifting his gaze back and forth from his friends to the woods. No one had found anything to say, and the time dragged interminably by. After what felt like hours, Thomas caught sight of movement outside. A moment later Ailbe and Shamus stepped into the clearing, with the sheriff two steps behind them. Thomas got to his feet and out of their way.

“He’s dead,” Ailbe said as she came in the door. She looked at Eileen, lying on the floor. “How’s your stomach?”

“It hurts,” said Eileen. “But not as bad as last night.”

“Good.” Ailbe collapsed into her chair. “Thomas, there’s a small keg in the pantry. Draw some beer, will you? For everyone.”

Thomas got up, found the beer and a pitcher to hold it, and mugs for all of them. In a couple of trips, he’d brought everything in and filled everyone’s mugs. The sheriff had taken Shamus’s seat, leaving the woodsman standing against one wall. Thomas took up his spot in the doorway again. Ailbe took her mug and drained half of it in a single swallow. She was looking pale and very tired.

“Well,” the sheriff said, looking at Thomas. “It’s a right mess you’re in, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” said Thomas.

“Did you know your father’s placed a price on your head?”

Thomas felt the air pressing in on him, growing thick and hard to breathe. “No. I didn’t.”

“Seems your father wrote up the papers and is having them delivered to the nearest three towns in all directions. The bishop had a copy with him.”

Anger flared again in Thomas. He forced his voice to be calm. “And what does it say?”

“That you’ve been stealing money from your father for the last four years. And that you have to either swear yourself to the bishop’s service or appear before a magistrate in Elmvale to answer the charges.”

“When?”

“Three days from now. After that, you’re for the gaol, and anyone bringing you in gets fifteen silver and your father’s grateful thanks.”

Thomas swore—short, specific and with great feeling, bringing raised eyebrows from nearly everyone in the room save the sheriff, who looked entirely unmoved. “And that means you are going to do what?”

“I’m going to face the magistrate,” said Thomas, still seething. “I’m not serving the bishop.”

“Because you believe he had Timothy killed?”

It was a good enough reason, Thomas thought, and a much easier one to explain. “Aye.”

“And you think he was trying to have Ailbe killed as well.”

“Aye.”

The sheriff sighed, took a pull on his beer. “Unfortunately, the three that could prove it are all dead.”

“
We
only killed two of them,” said Thomas.

“So you said,” agreed the sheriff. “The bishop seemed to think you stabbed the last one in the back.”

“I was too busy fighting for my life, at the time.”

“Against someone no one else saw,” the sheriff pointed out. “How do I know you didn’t just stab the man then come back?”

“Because the bishop said he found him on the road,” said Ailbe. “If Thomas had stabbed him he wouldn’t have gotten out of the woods. Not with those wounds.”

The sheriff gave Ailbe a speculative look. “Is that so?” He took another drink. “And why didn’t you mention this before?”

“Because calling the bishop a liar to his face would be a bad idea.”

“True.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair, took a long look at Thomas. “I don’t suppose you can prove the bishop was involved?”

Thomas shook his head. “No. It’s only my word against his.”

“Which doesn’t put you in a good place,” said the sheriff.

When the sheriff didn’t say anything more, Thomas asked, “So now what?”

The sheriff drained his beer and stood up. “Well, I believe you three were only defending yourselves against the ones you killed, so there won’t be any charges on that account.”

The relief would have knocked Thomas off his feet, had he not been sitting already. He looked over at George and Eileen and saw the same emotion on their faces.

“I could,” the sheriff continued, “arrest you and have you hauled back to Elmvale. But the magistrate hasn’t been there yet, which means that you haven’t broken any of the conditions of the warrant. You have until tomorrow to get yourselves home.”

Thomas pulled himself to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, lad,” the sheriff warned. “I’ll have you in irons if you’re still here tomorrow afternoon. And if you go anywhere other than home, I’ll have you charged for fleeing the law as well. Understand?”

“Aye. And thank you anyway.”

The sheriff grunted and left without another word.

Eileen spoke up for the first time since they’d left the inn. “Does this mean we can go home tomorrow?”

“If you’re well enough,” said Thomas. “Otherwise, I’ll go alone.”

Eileen turned to Ailbe, who nodded. “Aye, you can leave tomorrow. I’d like to have you stay here and heal for a couple of more days, but you could manage it. You’ll have to rest often, mind you.”

“I’ll manage,” said Eileen. “I just want to get home.”

“We can make it a two-day trip,” said Thomas. “We’ll need to buy some food, though.”

“I can get it,” Shamus offered, pushing himself off the wall. “Better you lot stay here out of sight.”

“Aye, it is,” Ailbe finished her beer and pushed herself to her feet. “Take the blankets, too. They’ll keep Eileen warm over the night.”

“We won’t be able to get them back to you,” said George. “Not for a while.”

“I’ll come get them in a few days. I need to go to Elmvale anyway. To collect Timothy.”

George opened his mouth, closed it. He looked to be searching for words, but in the end only said, “All right. Thank you.”

***

By evening, Thomas was feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.

The day had dragged by after the sheriff left. Thomas had given Shamus money to buy supplies for the three of them for their trip, as well as food for all of them for lunch and dinner. Eileen spent most of the day sleeping. George spent it sitting at her side, or talking with Shamus about weather and the woods and other country matters. Ailbe busied herself in the kitchen for the most part.

Thomas had spent the day sitting on the edge of the porch, back against one of the wooden posts that held up the roof, feeling miserable. Thoughts of his father and the bishop and the previous night’s violence were all wasps drilling holes into his brain. Worse than all that, though, was that his friends would not
talk
to him. He thought about going in, but couldn’t bring himself to face them. Instead, he stayed on the porch, looking at the clouds and willing the day to pass.

Dinner time came, and Ailbe fed them lake trout and biscuits and beer, then shooed them out to the porch so she could clean up. Thomas took the same spot he’d been at all day. Eileen sat on the stair, wrapped in her blanket. She slouched, her loose red hair covering her face. George sat beside her, big arms crossed in front of him, eyes on the woods. Thomas watched the way Eileen leaned against her brother, drawing comfort and strength from him. The distance he felt between them and himself was far larger than the width of the porch. Even at dinner they hadn’t spoken to each other, and now, with the sun starting to set, Thomas was desperate to bridge the space between them.

“At least you two will be on your way home tomorrow,” he said, wishing he could come up with something better.

George glanced at Thomas, then shrugged and turned back to the woods. “Aye.”

Silence fell again. Thomas tried to find something else to say, but couldn’t.

Eileen’s head came up. “Hang on,” she said, her eyes finding Thomas’s. “What do you mean, ‘You two?’ Aren’t you coming?”

“What?” Thomas was completely confused. “Of course I am.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

Thomas thought about what he
had
said. “I meant ‘home,’ not just Elmvale.” He leaned back against the wall. “Though maybe I shouldn’t.”

Now George was looking at him as well. “The sheriff said he’d lock you up.”

“I know. I just… Ever since I came home, everything’s gone wrong.” The flow of words, now started, turned into a torrent. “My father’s insane, Timothy’s dead, the bishop is stealing people’s souls, and Eileen got stabbed. Everything went to pieces the moment I arrived. And every time I try to make it better, someone else gets hurt.” He stopped. Both his friends were staring at him. He took a deep breath, and added, “And you two aren’t talking to me anymore.”

There was a very long, very pregnant silence after that.

“No,” said George at last. “I don’t suppose we were.”

“Why not?” demanded Thomas.

There was another long silence. At last, George shrugged. “Don’t know what to say.”

“It’s all changed,” Eileen said, pushing her hair away from her face. “Everything changed.”

Thomas sat silent, looking at his friends, waiting for more.

“We killed people,” George said, at last. “
I
killed someone.” He rubbed at his face, and when his hand came away, Thomas could see the glimmer of unshed tears in his eyes. “I never wanted to kill anyone, Thomas. I never even wanted to hurt anyone that bad. And Eileen got stabbed fighting these men and could have died and…” He shrugged again, the gesture helpless and angry. “We can’t even see what we’re fighting for.”

Thomas looked out to the setting sun. The sky was beginning to change colour now; clouds glowed red and yellow, and the blue began to fade from the sky. His voice was quiet, when he said. “If you two hadn’t come I’d be dead.”

“You don’t know—”

“I know,” Thomas turned back to his friends, meeting each one’s eyes in turn. “Those four may have been after Ailbe, but they would have taken me as well. And either I would have fought them and died, or they would have dragged me before the bishop and he would have destroyed me. By being here, you two saved my life.” George and Eileen looked away from him, something akin to embarrassment in their faces. There was silence again, but not so deep, or so long as before.

“Aye, well,” George met Thomas’s eyes again, a smile starting to form on his lips. “Someone had to.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come,” said Thomas, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. “But I’m glad I did.”

“Like you could have stopped us,” said Eileen, a smile coming to the corners of her mouth as well. She slapped her brother on the arm. “Especially this lummox.”

“Me?” George turned on her. “You swore to me you’d run after us pelting us with rocks if I made you stay home.”

“Aye, well, the more fool me.” She turned back to Thomas. “And I don’t see what you’re smiling at. You still have to tell my parents.”

Thomas closed his eyes and let himself fall back against the floor of the porch with a groan. “Your father will kill me.”

“Don’t forget Mother,” said Eileen. “She’ll want your ears, once she learns what’s happened.”

Thomas sighed. “Is there a bright side to going home?”

“Well, everyone will be able to see how nicely that cut on your face goes with your black eyes.”

Thomas sighed again. “I should have stayed at the Academy.”

“Probably,” agreed George. He pulled himself to his feet and turned to his sister. “And we should probably get you inside to sleep,” he held out his hand. “Come on.”

Eileen shook her head. “I’ll be fine out here with you.”

“You will not.” said George. “You should be inside by the fire.”

Thomas got to his own feet. “He’s probably right.”

“He’s probably wrong,” said Eileen, “and he can just go inside and find out.”

George opened his hands and raised them to the sky, as if beseeching the High Father for patience. “I can. And I’ll be back in a moment to bring you in.”

“Do that, then.”

George snorted and shook his head, but went inside. Thomas smiled at Eileen, who smiled back. A moment later, she blushed and looked away. Thomas felt immediately awkward. He thought about going inside himself, but didn’t want to leave her alone. He sat down on the stair beside her instead.

Very quietly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” Eileen opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her. “You came here for me. It’s my fault. And I’m sorry.”

“I came here for myself.” She half-smiled. Her voice turning mocking. “I wanted to have an adventure.”

“Well, you got that,” Thomas said, smiling back. “And a story to tell.”

“Aye.” Her smile faded, and she turned away from him, her eyes going to the sunset. After a time, she said. “I wish I knew how it was going to end.”

Thomas nodded. “Me too.”

Eileen leaned against him and rested her head against his shoulder. He stayed very still, afraid to disturb her. They sat in silence, watching the sunset together. After a little while, Eileen sighed. “I should go in. Before George comes out to get me.”

Thomas, who didn’t want to move for the world, forced himself to stand up. He held out his arms. Eileen wrapped the blanket over one arm, then raised her own hands. Thomas took them, steadying her while she rose to her feet. She winced as she stood, and Thomas put one arm around her waist to help her onto the porch from the step. She leaned into him to get up, then stayed there. Thomas stood a moment, awkwardly unsure of what to do next. Eileen started to shake a bit, and Thomas began to back off.

She caught his arm. “Don’t,” her voice was trembling. “Not yet.”

She began to cry, leaning her head against his chest and twisting her hands into the fabric of his shirt. Thomas was frozen a moment, then folded his arms around her. She pulled herself closer, sobbing into his chest. It didn’t last very long. He held her until the crying slowed, then loosened his hold and leaned back. She did the same, bringing one hand up to wipe her eyes.

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked.

“I’m fine,” Eileen said. “It just… It felt good to be held and I just wanted to cry all of a sudden.” She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I’m probably just tired.”