True Magics (21 page)

By the time they finished lunch, which was bread and cheese eaten in the Assembly Hall to keep out of the cold, Thomas had ten signatures on his petition and Eileen had twelve. Both got a dozen refusals and a few very nasty suggestions about where to put it.

“Now what?” Eileen asked. “We should be fencing, but…”

“Library,” said Thomas. “I’ve got assignments, you need to study.”

“That, I do,” agreed Eileen. “Bets they block the door again?”

Some students did try to block Eileen’s way, but the librarians shooed them off, declaring that, if they didn’t have a good reason to be there, they could go away.

The library was cold, despite the fireplaces, and the students there kept their coats and cloaks on. Thomas and Eileen sat at one of the tables on the first floor where students copied notes from library books—no one was allowed to take them out.

The air was filled with the smell of paper and leather. Tall shelves filled with volumes lined the walls, and stairs at each corner led up to four more floors of books. The grey light coming through the large windows left the place gloomy. Students hunched over the tables, making the most of what light there was to scribble down quotes and arguments from their books.

For the first hour, Thomas and Eileen sat side by side. Eileen worked on memorizing trigonometric identities and Thomas tried to work on his assignments. He couldn’t keep focused on them, though. Between the Archbishop and the king Thomas felt like he had enough to worry about without adding schoolwork to the mix.

At least no one’s trying to drive me out,
Thomas thought, watching Eileen angrily flipping pages. He sighed and straightened up, stretching his back.
Where am I going to find people with magic? It’s not like they post bills. And what will the king do if I can’t find any?

Alphonse said
‘
We all know what Kings of Criethe do in times like these.’
Thomas closed his schoolwork and went to the wall of history books.
When was the last time there were times like these?

The church histories on the first floor talked of “The War of the Righteous” two hundred years ago, where the Church of the High Father defeated the Churches of the Mother, Daughter and Son. There were mentions of “foul witchcraft” used against Church soldiers, but no mention of what type. The war ended when King Darren III declared the Church of the High Father to be the religion of the state and banned worship of the others, though he kept the convents of the Mother open, and did not forbid the Smiths to have their traditional altars to the Son in their smithies.

King Darren III?
Thomas put the Church books back and went to find a history of the kingdom. He paged through until he found the reign of Darren III, then read closely. When he finished, he put it back and found a second history. Then a third.

All three spoke of the war for the Church, but only in passing terms, declaring that King Darren had, after ten years of war inside his kingdom, declared the other churches outlawed and so returned peace to the kingdom. The years that followed were called “A flowering of the High Father’s Church.”

And that’s all?
Thomas wondered.
A ten-year war and it only merits a passing reference?

He put the book back on the shelf and went back to the table. Eileen looked up from her trigonometry. “Looking for something?”

“Aye.”

“Find it?”

“No,” said Thomas. “And that’s very odd.”
There has to be more here somewhere.

The bells rang, and the two packed up their books and headed to the Law building. The wind had turned blustery and threatened to yank the cloaks from their shoulders. Thomas pulled his tight as he brooded his way across the Academy grounds.
There should have been far more about the Church War. So why wasn’t there?

“Oh by the four,” said Eileen. “They’re blocking the Law Building.” She shifted her book bag to her back. “Ready to charge?”

“Keith’s there,” said Thomas. “Whoever knocks him flat gets a pint?”

“Too cold for a pint,” said Eileen, picking up speed. “Hot whiskey. Go!”

Surprisingly, the Law classes themselves went well. Eileen was allowed in, and no one commented during class. From that, the fourteen signatures Eileen collected—Thomas got eight—and from the expression on Keith’s face when Eileen had knocked him flat, Thomas and Eileen were in fairly good moods when they stepped out of the building.

The sun was already well on its way down, though it was still far from the horizon. Eileen looked toward the Academy gates and sighed. “I should go home and get supper for George but, by the Four, I don’t want to.”

“Can’t blame you,” said Thomas.

“What is wrong with him?” Eileen looked to the sky as though it might have an answer. “It’s not just worry about me. It’s like… like something’s broken in him.”

“Broken?” Thomas stopped walking. “Broken how?”

“I don’t know. He… shouts in his sleep. He swears at things that aren’t there. One night I found him in the kitchen, stomping back and forth and swinging his sword.”

Thomas frowned, trying to imaging George doing those things. “That’s… frightening.”

“It is. And every time I try to talk to him about it he says nothing’s wrong. And since the problems with the Church started, it seems like everything sets him off.”

“Thomas! Thomas!”

Thomas looked across the green. “James! What’s up?”

James dashed toward them and skidded to a stop, gasping. “They’re going to duel!”

“
What?
Who?”

“Wilson and Mark,” said James. “They’re heading for Bricker’s fields.”

Thomas swore. Bricker’s fields were where masons and others gathered clay for bricks. It was also a preferred duelling ground. The fields were a half-mile outside the city and hidden from view by a low rising hill– far enough to keep the city guards from looking but close enough to summon a doctor if needed. “They’re going to fight each other?”

“No,” said James. “Wilson came home, grabbed his sword, said he and Mark were going to Bricker’s to defend Eileen’s honour, and ran out again.”

“I can defend my own honour!” Eileen snapped. “What were they thinking?”

“That they were helping,” said Henry from behind them, making both Eileen and Thomas jump. “Half of them see you as their little sister and the other half have a crush on you.”

“Idiots,” declared Eileen, dashing across the green. “When I get my hands on them…”

The three grabbed their rapiers from the gatehouse and charged across the city in the fading light of the evening. They made it to the field in under an hour with James on their heels, and found eleven of the Student Company together, waiting.

“Thomas,” shouted Wilson. “Thank the Four!”

“What are you doing here?” demanded Eileen, descending on them in full dudgeon. “What were you thinking?”

“We were insulted,” said Mark, backing up a pair of steps.

“How?” demanded Eileen. “Who could have insulted you enough for this stupidity?”

“Hanley Smythe and Wilbur Carmichael,” said Wilson. “After fencing class yesterday, Mark and I both told the master we thought he owed you and Thomas an apology. He told us we could leave and we did.”

“Wilson!” Eileen was appalled. “You need fencing class!”

“We were sitting in the library today when Hanley Smythe and Wilbur Carmichael came up to us,” said Mark. “They said we’re a pair of liars and fools, a disgrace to the fencing floor and that we don’t deserve to be in the Academy.”

“Tell me,” said Eileen, horrified, “that you didn’t start a fight in the library.”

“We didn’t!” said Wilson, indignant. “We called them cowards and idiots, and
they
challenged
us
to a duel. We agreed to meet here just before dusk.”

Thomas looked at the others. “And what are you doing here?”

“Making sure they didn’t bring friends,” said Kevin. “I heard them talking to some others, and figured they wouldn’t be coming alone.”

“There they are,” said Mark. Thomas looked and saw Hanley and Wilbur coming down the rise, leading a dozen other students. All of them were armed.

“Oh, this is not going to be good,” said Henry. “Tell your troop to spread out.”

“You heard him. Spread out, but no drawing weapons until they do.”

Thomas stood beside Henry, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Hanley and the others stopped twenty feet away. “Are you going to fight for them, then?”

“No,” said Thomas. “We’re going to ask you to stop this stupidity.”

Hanley sneered. “Afraid I’ll kill your man?”

Thomas cocked his head. “How many men have you killed Hanley? Any?” Hanley looked away and didn’t give an answer. “Mark and Wilson have killed half a dozen men between them on the field of battle. I suggest that you should not be fighting them.”

“
They
accepted the challenge,” said Hanley. “If they don’t want to fight, they can admit to being cowards and apologize to the Fencing Master.”

“Or you can drop the entire matter and they’ll forget that you insulted them.”

“They didn’t have to respond,” said Wilbur, drawing his blade. “Now let’s get on with it before the light is gone.”

“They’re fools,” declared Henry. “There’s no arguing with them.”

Thomas sighed and shook his head in disgust. “Fine. Which of you is taking which?”

“I’m for Wilbur,” said Mark. “We’re nearly of a height.”

“Which means Wilson for me,” said Hanley, drawing his blade.

“Clear some space!” shouted Henry. “The duel goes to first blood, no further!” Hanley started to protest, but Henry over-rode him. “No further! Anyone who tries for more gets to duel me, understood?”

The four combatants glared at each other, but nodded.

“Watch your step, all of you,” warned Henry. “The ground is wet and we don’t need anyone dying from slipping on the grass. Now, step to your positions.”

“There!” called the Fencing Master. “I knew they would be there!”

The Fencing Master came down the rise at a trot, his own rapier on his hip and a squad of watchmen with lanterns jogging behind him. His bald head was dark crimson with anger and his expression promised mayhem. He stopped in front of Thomas. “First you insult me, and now
this
?”

“I was trying to stop it,” protested Thomas.

“Not very hard.” The Fencing Master looked over at Eileen. “And here is the source of the trouble.”

“
Me?
” Eileen’s face went nearly the same colour as the Fencing Master’s head. “You’re blaming me?”

“Actually,” said Henry, stepping between the Fencing Master and Eileen. “
You
would be the source of the trouble.”

Master Brennan stepped nose to nose with Henry. “You watch your tongue, Henry Antonius.”

“
Lord
Henry Antonius,” said Henry, not moving at all.

The Fencing Master stayed eye-to-eye with Henry, glaring. Henry was unmoved. Master Brennan growled in disgust and turned to face the four combatants. “Blades away. Everyone. Now! And everyone back to the Academy!” He turned back to Henry, who hadn’t moved. “Including you,
Lord
Henry Antonius. Move!”

The six watchmen escorted the students back the Academy and waited outside until the gatekeeper had taken all their weapons. Unarmed, the group marched to the Headmaster’s house and stood on the grass while the Fencing Master went inside. Not a few of them were looking nervous by the time the Headmaster stepped onto the porch. The Fencing Master stepped around him and stomped down the porch to stand beside Wilbur and Hanley.

“And what,” said the Headmaster, his tone suggesting very dire consequences indeed, “is going on?”

“A personal matter,” said Mark.

“You don’t need two dozen men to solve a personal matter,” said the Headmaster. “Try again.”

“A duel,” said Master Brennan. “Two from each group with the rest there to watch and cheer.”

“And what was the cause of the duel?”

“She was,” said Master Brennan, pointing at Eileen.

“I was not!”

“Hanley and Wilbur challenged us!” protested Mark. “It had nothing to do with Eileen!”

“You insulted us!” protested Wilbur.

“You deserved it!” said Wilson. He turned to the Headmaster. “Master Brennan refused to teach Eileen, then he refused to let her salute him when she left. Thomas walked out of the class in protest and so did we!”

“Without saluting!” snapped Wilbur. “Thomas should have saluted!”

“And Master Brennan should have let Eileen salute!” yelled Mark.

“Now see here…” the Fencing Master started.