Small Magics (9 page)

Magda rolled her eyes and did her best not to smile. “There’s an easy promise to keep, since I’m sending you straight home.”

Thomas looked to his friends. Neither looked at all comfortable, and Thomas guessed that neither had told their parents what had happened. Thomas tried to find words, but in the end only said, “I’m to go home tonight.”

“Tonight?” Magda shook her head. “No, you’ll be going home right after breakfast, if I have to drag you there myself.”

Thomas took a deep breath. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” repeated Lionel. “Why not?”

His conversation with his father came back to Thomas in a rush. He had no desire to explain, he realized. He tried to keep his tone light as he said: “My father prefers me to come home tonight.” He smiled around the bitter words. “Properly attired, to meet his guests.”

“ ‘Properly attired?’ ” Magda’s voice rose on the words. “If it was George or Eileen, we’d have the doors open to them if they were dressed in rags and the king himself was here.”

“Aye, well…” Thomas avoided Magda’s eyes and took his seat again. “Father probably just wants to give me a proper welcome. You know, throw a big party; have his son make a grand entrance.”
Assuming he lets me in the door.
“He even had me get a new suit for the occasion.”

“Did he now?” asked Lionel.

“A very nice one, from the fabric,” said Eileen. “The tailor will have it ready for him this afternoon.”

“Well, he must have something planned, then,” said Lionel, leaning back and taking a sip from his tea.

Magda shook her head. “Stranger and stranger. Still, if that’s what your father wants…” She turned a critical eye over Thomas’s travelling clothes. “Do you have something other than that to wear?”

“In my bag,” said Thomas.

“Then get it.” Magda poked George’s shoulder. “Take Thomas out to the smithy and get some water heated up for a bath. And loan him your razor. We’ll have you looking presentable, Thomas. That way your father will have no cause to complain.”

“Not that he won’t anyway,” Lionel snorted. “Did George tell you what he said to—”

“Now you stop that,” scolded Magda. “The boy has enough trouble as it is.” She turned back to Thomas. “Get yourself cleaned up, then spend the day at the fair.”

“We’ll keep him out of trouble,” promised George.

Magda looked at her off-spring and snorted. “You two? You’ll put him in it, you mean.”

“We never got Thomas into trouble,” said George.

“True,” agreed Eileen. “It was always his idea.”

“It was not!” protested Thomas to the laughter of the siblings.

“Enough!” Magda shooed them all towards the door. “Out!”

Still laughing, George and Eileen led Thomas out of the house. Thomas waited until they were out of parental earshot before speaking. “I take it you didn’t tell them about Timothy.”

“I told them as little as possible,” said George, leading Thomas towards the smithy. “Said we spent the night drinking at the tavern, then sat by the mill pond talking until dawn.”

“Good thing, too,” said Eileen. “Ma hates it when we get in fights.” “And do you get into fights often?” asked Thomas, remembering her habits of throwing rocks and kicking shins when he and George teased her. “Not anymore,” said Eileen, smiling sweetly at him. She scooped up a bucket and tossed it to him. “Now hurry up. There’s a fiddler at the tavern today.”

***

It was most of an hour later when Thomas emerged, clean, dry, and wearing a clean white shirt and brown pants from his bag. The bath had been steaming hot and exactly what Thomas needed. He had shaved away the scruffy beard and scrubbed at his body and hair until all of the dirt from the road was gone, then sat back in the large tub and soaked until the water turned tepid.

After calling a quick good-bye and thanks to Magda and Lionel, Thomas followed his friends down the wooded lane to the town common and the fair. The sound of happy voices chattering and music playing floated through the air to call them forward.

“Took you long enough,” complained George.

“It’s been a long time since I had a proper bath,” said Thomas.

“Aye, we noticed,” said Eileen, smiling to take the sting from the words. “You smell much better now.”

Thomas smiled back. “I’m sure I do.”

“So what do we want to do at the fair?” asked George. “There’s races and archery this morning.”

“First, we make sure Timothy is all right,” said Thomas. “Then we should find the Reeve and tell him what happened. Is it still old Bluster?”

“Aye,” George grinned. “It will probably make his day. He’s had nothing to deal with but the occasional tavern brawl for years.”

Timothy was on his stage, looking none the worse for the night’s adventures and imbibing. He spotted them as they passed by and gave them a jaunty wave with one foot—he was standing on his hands—then flipped to his feet and bowed deeply. When he came up, he had three balls in his hands that he began juggling while reciting a rather bawdy poem.

“He looks all right,” said Eileen.

Thomas waved back. “Aye, he does.”

“He’s fine,” George said. “Come on. Let’s find Bluster before Timothy there challenges Thomas to another round of riddles.”

They left the juggler and quickly found Bluster sitting on a stool underneath a tree at the edge of the town commons. He was a thin man, of average height, in his later years. He had been appointed Town Reeve, in charge of maintaining order in the village, some thirty years ago by the Abbess. He had kept his position by keeping the peace firmly in hand. Nothing more than the occasional brawl disturbed the town, and those ended as soon as Bluster stepped into the room. He sat, smoking a pipe and looking for all the world as if he was ready for a nap. His eyes never strayed from the crowd, though. Thomas was certain that, if asked, Bluster would be able to tell them everything that had happened since he began his watch.

“George, Eileen, and I believe Thomas,” said the Reeve, sitting up and smiling as they came close. He looked over Thomas, head to foot. “It has been a while since we’ve seen you around these parts, has it not, laddie?”

“It has,” Thomas agreed.

“I thought your father had packed you off to the city to keep you out of trouble.”

“He did.”

“And he’s allowed you to return, then?”

More or less,
Thomas thought, but before he could answer, George stepped forward. “Nay. I wrote Thomas and asked him to come back so we could have another go at rafting the mill stream.”

Bluster snorted. “Wonderful. I’ll need a mighty big hook to pull you out of the water this time.” He turned his attention to Eileen. “You need to steer clear of these two. Why, this one—” he hooked a thumb in Thomas’s direction, “—has taken to carrying a sword, I hear. Where is it, by the way?”

“At George’s house.”

“Good thing, too. A silly city fashion, it is.” Bluster leaned back against the tree. “All right, you three, what did you come here for? I know you wouldn’t be talking to an old grump like me if you weren’t after something.”

“We’re not after anything,” said Thomas, “but something happened last night we thought you should know about.”

Bluster raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

“There were three men in the woods last night,” George said. “Strangers. They attacked Timothy.”

“Timothy?”

“The juggler,” explained Thomas.

“They were going to kill him,” added Eileen.

“And before you say it, I’ve grown too old for pranks like this,” finished George.

“Oh, I didn’t say it was a prank,” said Bluster. He crossed his arms. “What happened? From the beginning.”

“We were by the mill pond late last night,” said Eileen. “We saw torches and heard voices so we went to look.”

Bluster nodded. “And seeing three men attacking the juggler, what did you do?”

“Well,” Thomas began, “I did have my sword, then.”

“And I was bigger than all of them,” said George.

“And all they had were daggers,” added Eileen.

“Except the one with the axe.”

“But he was using it to break down the wagon’s door, not fight.”

Bluster waited for the comments to stop, then leaned forward. “Was there a fight, then?”

“No!” all three chorused.

“They saw the three of us and decided it wasn’t worth the effort,” said Thomas.

“Humph.” The Reeve leaned back again and tapped the ashes from his pipe. “And Timothy will say the same?”

“He will,” said Eileen. “Though he was hiding in his wagon for most of it.”

“Humph.” Bluster put fresh weed into his pipe and tapped it down. “Bandits. Haven’t had bandits here in twenty years.” He lit the pipe and took a puff. “Trouble seems to be following that one around.”

“What do you mean?” asked Thomas.

“I mean that little display yesterday,” said Bluster. “Witchcraft has been the talk of the village this morning. Half of them think he’s in league with the Banished and want me to put him under arrest for it. The other half is ready to sneak out into the woods to have him read their fortunes or cast charms on their neighbours.”

“Him?” snorted George. “Good luck. He’s got no more magic in him than Da has in the back end of his anvil.”

“Really?” said Bluster. “Then what were you doing out in the woods last night?”

“Talking,” Thomas said. “We were at the tavern until it closed, then we headed back to George’s house.”

“Which is nowhere near the mill pond.”

“We know,” said Eileen. “But the scholar here decided he wanted to go there and thought he could find it in the dark.” She rolled her eyes. “Took him long enough, too. We’d just gotten there where we saw the bandits’ torches and went to look.”

“I see.” Bluster crossed his arms once more and gave the three a long stare. After a time, he nodded — whether to some decision he’d made or in agreement with Eileen’s story, Thomas couldn’t tell. “Right, then. I’ll send a messenger to the sheriff in Lakewood, let him know we may have bandits.” He took another puff on his pipe, then pointed the stem of it and a warning glare directly at them. “As for you three, stay away from things you don’t understand. Witchery is not something to be trifled with, real or imaginary.”

“There was no witchery at that wagon last night,” said Thomas. “Only three strangers picking on a man for no reason other than that he was alone.”

Bluster fixed his eyes on Thomas, who met them without hesitation. There
hadn’t
been any witchery the previous night, no matter what had happened on stage the day before.

“As you say,” said Bluster at last. “I’ll keep my eye out for those men tonight, and I’ll give an invite to the juggler to stay on the common.” He chuckled. “Though, what with this being Fire Night and all, there might be more people around him if he stays in the woods.”

George and Eileen snickered, and Thomas, relieved that the man wasn’t prying anymore, managed a smile. “Very true.”

“Come on, Thomas,” said George, taking his arm. “Let’s get to the fair.”

“Aye, let’s,” agreed Eileen. “Have a good day, Reeve.”

“And you three.” Bluster puffed on the pipe again, then called after them,

“And stay out of trouble!”

***

It was amazing, Thomas thought, how time knew to move at a crawl just when you were hoping it would speed past. As soon as they were done with Bluster, Thomas went to the tailor for final fittings. After that, the day was theirs.

Thomas did his best to be good company. He watched the races and played games of chess and chance with George and Eileen. He listened to the fiddler at lunch and tried the knife-throw and other games in the afternoon. George and Eileen kept up a steady stream of conversation and gossip, and did
their
best to distract him. It all should have made the day pass merrily away. Instead, time dragged its feet. The hours moved past as slowly as children heading home for chores. No matter what else he tried to focus on, Thomas’s thoughts kept circling back to his father, and from there leaping to the evening ahead, which he was dreading.

It was just as the afternoon was waning into the evening that the tailor found them. The suit was ready, Alistair told Thomas. He and his assistants had spent most of the night and all of the day working on it but the results were well worth the effort.

After his first look at himself in the tailor’s mirror, Thomas could do nothing but agree. The suit was extravagant. The deep blue jacket flowed long to matching breeches. The shirt was glowing white, with lace at the collar and wrists. The crushed velvet hat, also a deep blue, sported a silver badge and a pair of white feathers, too long to have come from any native bird. The boots and belt, which the cobbler and leather-worker respectively had dropped off that day, matched perfectly.

Thomas stepped out of the fitting room and into the main shop. Eileen’s jaw dropped. George’s eyebrows rose up high on his forehead. Neither said anything until Thomas prompted them with, “Well?”

George shook his head and let out a low whistle. “Amazing,” he said. “If you didn’t still look like an underfed bird, we’d never have recognized you.”

“Aye,” said Eileen. “You’re too fancy to be walking with the like of us. We’d best stay a step behind, like servants.”

“You do and I’ll have Gavin lecture you on the intricacies of the wool trade,” threatened Thomas. “Now really, how is it?”

“You look wonderful,” Eileen said. The moment the words left her mouth she looked away. She seemed to be turning slightly red for no reason Thomas could fathom. “That is… it’s very good.”

“Your father must be very pleased with you,” said Alistair. “No one in this town has ever looked better for their homecoming.”

Pleased?
Thomas thought of his father’s words the day before. Certainly nothing the man had said indicated any pride in his son whatsoever. The opposite, in fact. Thomas shook his head and took one last look in the mirror.

At least I’ll show him I can clean up well enough.

Thomas thanked Alistair, gave him the money, and left the tailor’s shop. George and Eileen walked beside him, taking great care not to touch his suit for fear of leaving a stain. George carried Thomas’s other clothes, and promised to keep them at their house until Thomas sent for them. Neither of them said anything, and Thomas had no words to fill the space. The dread that had gnawed at him all day was now ferociously chewing on what was left of his nerves. The closer he got to his house, the worse he felt.