True Magics (35 page)

“Be thankful we are better than that,” said Thomas. “Company, keep walking.”

They kept going, not bothering to sheath their blades. People in the streets cleared out of their way, muttering and whispering to one another as the group went past. Thomas was beyond caring. He was exhausted and furious and wanted nothing more than to get to the Academy and tell everyone what had happened.

The troop reached the Academy as the second bell of the morning rang. A black river of students was flowing through the gates. One of them saw the company coming and shouted. The river stopped and turned back on itself, the students swirling around them.

“What’s happening?”

“Why are you armed?”

“Who did you fight?”

“By the Four, look at Charles!”

“Look at James!”

“Jonathan, Liam, what happened to you?”

“Keep moving,” said Thomas to the company. He raised his voice loud. “We’ll answer questions after we speak to the Headmaster! Move out of the way! Please!”

The gatekeeper saw them coming and ran out of his little house. “Hold on! You can’t come in here like that!”

“Weapons away,” called Thomas, sheathing his own as he stepped through the gate. The men marching behind him did the same in a hiss of steel on leather.

“You lot stop and you hand in your weapons!” said the gatekeeper.

“No,” said Thomas. “Not today.”

“You can’t come in here like this! I’ll have to report you!”

“Keep going,” said Thomas to the company, and walked around the man.

The Gatekeeper grabbed him. “You think you can flout the rules, boy? I’ll have you up in front of the Headmaster!”

“Then follow us,” said Thomas, pulling his arm free, “because that’s where we’re going.”

As the company walked across the grounds, word spread like fire through the Academy. By the time they reached the Headmaster’s house, they had several hundred students behind them.

“Evan, gather the statements,” said Thomas. Evan slipped through the ranks gathering papers from everyone. Thomas walked up the porch stairs and hammered on the door with his fist, loud enough to echo off the buildings around them.

Thomas was about to pound on the door a second time when Matron Marshall opened it and glared. “What is all this racket?! If you think that’s the proper way to get the Headmaster’s attention, I can tell you it is not!” She looked beyond Thomas. “And you lot! Clear out and get to class where you belong!”

“Get the Headmaster,” said Thomas. “We have injured—”

“And who are you today that you think you can order me about?” demanded Matron Marshall. “You just watch your tone and be on your way-”

“THEY’VE BEEN TORTURED!”
Thomas’s shout echoed off the walls to those behind him, and through the Headmaster’s house. A buzz went through the crowd. “Get the Headmaster,
please,
or I will go in and get him myself!”

“What… what are you…?”

Thomas stepped aside and pointed to James and Charles. Matron Marshall opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “You wait here. I’ll get him.”

She left faster than Thomas had ever seen her move. Thomas turned from the door and found all the gathered students staring at him.

“Tortured!” yelled Thomas. “Seven days ago the first member of the Student Company disappeared. Five days ago, two others vanished. Two days ago, they took another student and attacked a fifth!

“Last night, we broke into the High Father’s dungeon and we got all of them back!”

The buzz grew even louder. Thomas turned his back on it and waited. The Headmaster appeared at the door moments later. His face was pale. “The Matron said students have been tortured?”

Thomas pointed to Charles and the others. “Evan! Statements!”

Evan stepped up and handed the Headmaster the sheaf of papers. “Sworn statements on what happened,” said Evan. “From everyone who was there, including James, who was attacked.”

“We didn’t have time to get a statement from Liam, Jonathan, Michael or Charles,” said Thomas. “But you can see what happened to them.”

The Headmaster took the sheaf of papers. “I heard what you said about raiding the dungeons. Is there a statement in here about how you took them from the Church’s custody?”

“Not yet,” said Thomas. “Do you want it now or later?”

The Headmaster’s eyes narrowed. “Be very careful, Thomas.” He looked at the crowd. “All of you! LISTEN TO ME!”

The students fell silent. “Yes, the High Father’s Church was wrong to take our students,” said the Headmaster, “and yes, you have every right to be angry, but you must not let your anger dictate your actions!” His expression was fierce. “Tell everyone; no one is to leave the Academy grounds before this afternoon’s assembly. And in the meantime, there are to be no arguments about this, no fights, and no blame-throwing. Is that understood?”

There were nods and a few muttered replies.

“
IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?
” the Headmaster barked.

“Yes, Headmaster!” chorused back two hundred students.

The Headmaster turned to Thomas. “Is it?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” said Thomas. “Now what do we do about Liam, Jonathan, Michael and Charles? Especially Charles. They broke all his fingers. We can’t let them go home. The Church will take them again.”

“They’ll stay in the infirmary in the dormitory,” said the Headmaster. “They’ll be safe there.”

“And if the Archbishop decides to come in like Bishop Malloy did last summer?”

“He will not,” said the Headmaster. “I will issue an edict this afternoon.”

“We need to warn everyone,” said Thomas.

“I know.” The Headmaster’s voice became steely. “I will warn them, but I will not have you panicking them. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take your friends to the infirmary. Then I’ll ask you and your company to turn in your rapiers at the gate and get to class.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thomas led the company to the infirmary. The other students surrounded them, asking question after question, and growing angrier with every answer.

The Headmaster called the Assembly at noon, and the entire student body and faculty jammed into the Assembly Hall. All the masters were on stage, and all looked grim. The Headmaster’s lips were pushed tight together, and his cheeks pinched with anger. In clipped tones he relayed what had happened. A wave of fury rumbled through the room.

“It is my belief,” said the Headmaster, raising his voice above the others, “that this unseemly incident is a direct result of the rumours and lies being spread by the preachers who have taken up residence in our streets. It is a situation I was willing to tolerate, so far as no attacks were made on our students.

“I will tolerate it no longer.

“Beginning today we will launch our own campaign, aimed at the people of this city. We will remind them that we are their neighbours, their friends, and in many cases, their children. We will remind the people that we, like they, are servants of the king, and that we will not allow him or our Academy to be insulted—or attacked—without answer.

“We will develop our own posters to replace the obscenities that they have posted on our walls,” continued the Headmaster. “We will publish our own pamphlets and treatises to counter the foul words of the preachers who malign our school. Where the preachers speak, we will speak, and we will speak better than they!

“Those who wish to be on the poster committee, report to Professor Givins in the Astronomy building. The Master of Laws will assign senior laws students to prepare for court action the Church of the High Father and its officers, and to petition the king. Those who wish to help write treatises may see Professor Dodds. Those who wish to speak, see me. By tomorrow, we will have our first responses to these cowardly attacks!”

The students and faculty cheered.

“The gates of the Academy will be guarded from this time forward,” said the Headmaster. “The Master of Fencing will see to the physical defences of the Academy and will assign all students where appropriate. You are all expected to arm yourselves when possible, and are permitted to wear those arms on the grounds.” The Headmaster’s brows came down and he skewered Keith, Mark and several others with his eyes. “Do not use this as an excuse for stupidity. We have had quite enough of that already.

“The Master of Theology will speak to all of you who are Theology students after this assembly, so that you may understand the position of the Academy and its relation to the position of the Church. Please be assured that the actions of a few reckless individuals in the High Father’s Church or the streets do not invalidate your faith, or your service. Those who are not Theology students will treat those who are with respect. Anything less will not be tolerated.

“Now, go. Maintain your honour, your dignity and your strength. You are the king’s students!”

Thomas stayed in his seat as the others filed out. Whatever energy had carried him through the raid and the morning were gone, and all he wanted was to shut his eyes and keep them that way.

“That was interesting,” said Henry.

“What do you mean?” asked Thomas.

“He’s putting students in harm’s way,” said Henry. “He never does that.”

Thomas tried to wrap his mind around it and couldn’t. Instead, he dropped his head into his hands, enjoying the darkness there.
By the Four, I could sleep for a week.

“I think we should skip the rest of our classes today,” said Henry. “Judging from Thomas being asleep on the bench, there.”

“I’m not,” said Thomas, pushing himself upright. The room tilted slighted, and he waited for it to right itself. “I agree, though.”

“What about the Church?” asked Eileen. “Will they be coming after us?”

Thomas shook his head, as much to clear it as by way of reply. “Father Alphonse said the Archbishop had nothing to do with the kidnappings. We should be fine.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Why would he lie?” Thomas grabbed the bench in front of him and used it to pull himself to his feet. “Henry and I will walk you home.”

George had a wet broom in his hand, and was scrubbing at the floor of the smithy. The place smelled of soap and hot water. There was no sign that three beaten, filthy young men had been lying on it hours before.

“George,” Eileen called. “We’re home.”

George set aside the broom and wrapped his sister in his arms, holding her tight. Eileen tensed for a moment in surprise. Then she wrapped her own arms as far around her brother as she could and clung to him. Thomas and Henry waited, but neither seemed inclined to let go.

“We need to get some sleep,” said Thomas. “We’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

George raised his chin off Eileen’s head. He had dark circles under his eyes, and looked like a man haunted. “Do you want to stay here? You can sleep in the kitchen.”

It was the nicest thing George had said to them in a week. And while the floor of George and Eileen’s kitchen was close, Thomas really wanted his bed. “No, thanks. We’ll just go home.”

“All right,” said George. “Thanks for bringing Eileen back. And Henry?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Henry smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve a long way to go before things get better.”

“I know. But thanks anyway.”

Thomas and Henry both were shivering with cold and exhaustion by the time they reached the apartment. Thomas was halfway up the stairs when he realized the front door was open. “Oh, no.”

“What?” said Henry just before he saw. “Oh. Of course.”

“Alphonse said they were here.” Thomas drew his rapier. He didn’t hear anyone inside, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He pushed the door open and looked. “I don’t think they did more than kick in the door.”

“They probably didn’t have time,” said Henry.

“Good.” Thomas went in first. The furniture hadn’t been overturned and there was no obvious sign of damage. He checked the kitchen and bedrooms. None looked any the worse for wear.

“The bolt still works,” said Henry, pushing the door shut and throwing the bolt into place. “We’ll need to replace the lock.”

“Tomorrow,” said Thomas. “Or maybe the day after.”

“We should block the door in case they come back.”

Henry was right, and Thomas knew it. It was still all Thomas could do not to stomp in exhaustion. They shoved the couch against the door, and Henry went to the kitchen. He came back with the kettle and a pair of pots that he balanced on the edge of the couch.

“That should make enough noise to wake the dead,” Henry said. “It might even be enough to wake us.”

“By the Four, I hope it doesn’t,” said Thomas. He thought about what he said. “I mean, I hope it doesn’t make any noise… Or that no one moves it so it doesn’t make…”

“I know what you mean,” said Henry. “Go to bed, Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Thomas stumbled into his room. He struggled to pull his chain mail shirt over his head then fumbled with his clothes. Even without the armour, he felt heavy, as if his body weighed more than it should. He could barely keep his eyes open and his head up. He stared at the bed, knowing he should get into it and sleep until the next morning.