Cold Magics (5 page)

“More money than you’ll ever see,” corrected Henry. “Some of us are lords, you know.”

Thomas found his eyebrows rising. “Henry, in the two years I lived with you, you didn’t have two coppers to rub together. Since when do you have money?”

“Since I became an emissary for my father,” said Henry. “One must have money to purchase supplies, to wine and dine ship captains and nobility and—”

“Henry,” Thomas interrupted, “there are three men ahead.”

Henry looked ahead, but the light of the torch didn’t penetrate that far. “Any weapons?”

Thomas’s ability to see magic extended to the magic that made things alive. He could see the inner lights of the men, swirling in reds and yellows that faintly illuminated the street in front of them.

“Can’t tell yet,” said Thomas. “But if they weren’t up to no good…”

“They would have a light,” finished Henry.

“Any place to go around here?” Thomas asked. He glanced behind them. “Oh, by the Four.”

“What?” asked Eileen.

“There’s three more behind us.”

Henry swore and drew his rapier and dagger. Thomas and Eileen each drew their own blades as light brightened the street in front of them. The men had opened lanterns and were walking towards them, spreading out to block the street. All of them had swords in their hands.

“They’ll try to distract us with the light so their friends can get us from behind,” said Thomas to Eileen.

“Oh.” Eileen looked pale. “What do we do?”

“Charge the ones behind us,” said Henry. “But first, scream.”

“What?”

“Loud as you can! Now!”

Eileen screamed, loud and long, her voice filling the streets and echoing off the buildings. The men before them froze.

“Behind!” shouted Henry, turning and charging. “Get them!”

Henry let out a war-cry that echoed nearly as loud as Eileen’s scream and charged at the nearest of them, with Thomas and Eileen only a step behind. Henry smashed his opponent’s blade out of the way with his torch and lunged forward with his sword. The second man charged at Thomas, but wasn’t nearly the swordsman that Thomas was. In three moves Thomas parried the man’s attack, opened up one of his legs and slashed his wrist, sending the man’s rapier skidding into the street. The man fell back, swearing and crying in pain.

Thomas turned and the light from the nearest man’s lantern dazzled him. He leapt back, hearing the other man’s blade whistle through the air where he had been standing. Thomas slashed at the lamp, trying to knock it out of his opponent’s hand. The light bobbed as the man dodged away.

The shrill call of a whistle pierced the air. One of the attackers shouted, “The watch!”

Thomas’s opponent threw his lamp at Thomas’s head and ran. Thomas ducked and lunged forward, trying for one last thrust and missing. The men fled into the night. Thomas turned away, looking for Eileen. She was standing, breathing heavily, her blades still raised in guard. She wasn’t hurt. Henry’s attackers had also fled, leaving only blood on Henry’s blade and dark puddles on the ground.

The watch rounded the corner—ten men in dull brown, cudgels and lanterns in hand. The man in front wore a white tabard over his jacket. He blew his whistle one more time, then shouted, “Swords down!”

“Get them!” Henry shouted, pointing in the direction their attackers had fled. At an order from the man in the white tabard, half the watch ran after the attackers while the others surrounded the three friends.

Thomas cleaned his rapier off with his handkerchief and sheathed it and his dagger. Henry did the same. Eileen didn’t move, still staring after the men.

“You,” said the watchman in the white tabard, looking at Eileen. “Put them away.”

“Eileen!” Thomas called. “It’s over.”

“Eileen?” repeated the captain of the watch. “She’s a girl?”

Thomas took no notice of him. He reached out and put a hand on Eileen’s shoulder. Eileen took a deep shuddering breath and lowered her blades. A moment later she sheathed them.

“Are you all right?” Thomas asked.

Eileen nodded. “I am.” A grin broke over her face. “I really am.”

“Now, what’s going on here?” demanded the watchman in the white tabard. He was a beefy, red-faced man and he looked quite displeased.

“We were attacked,” said Henry. “Six of them.”

“Three with lanterns,” added Thomas.

“Robbers, were they?” The watchman sounded unconvinced. “Don’t get many of that type over here. They usually hang around in the poor quarter.” He frowned at the three of them. “What are you lot doing in this part of the city anyway? And why is she dressed as a boy?”

“We’re going to the theatre,” said Henry.

After a moment’s silence, the watch captain realized no one was going to answer his second question. He narrowed his eyes at Henry. “Students can’t afford the theatre.”

“How did you know we were students?” asked Thomas.

“Two young men and a girl dressed as a boy, all with rapiers, out at night making trouble in a quiet neighbourhood?” said the watchman. “What else would you be?”

“He is a student,” said Henry, pointing at Thomas. “I am Henry Antonius, son of Duke Antonius of Frostmire.” He raised one hand, and Thomas could see the glitter of the large ring on his finger. “This is his signet. And I can afford the theatre, which is where I was taking my friends when we were attacked.”

“Aye?” said the watchman, looking at the ring. “Looks like a signet, right enough.”

“It is,” said Henry. “Now, if you will excuse us…”

The watchman stood his ground. “I still don’t understand why these types would be in this neighbourhood, Lord Henry,” said the man, with just enough emphasis on the word to make sure Henry knew he was not impressed.

“Well, when you find out, let me know,” said Henry. He turned to Thomas and Eileen. “Come on.”

“I didn’t say you could leave,” said the watchman.

“I didn’t ask,” said Henry. “We will be at the Residence.”

“The Residence?” the chief of the watch’s eyebrows rose. He called three of his men over. “Escort them to the Residence. If they are who they say, see them safely inside before you leave.”

“Thank you,” said Henry.

“If they’re not, take them to the gaol.”

Henry ignored the watchman, looking instead to Eileen and Thomas. “Come on. I need to have a discussion with Sir Martin.”

4

Henry stayed silent until they reached the Residence. It was a large, regal-looking building only a block from the palace itself, built to house visiting dignitaries. Two guards flanked the very ornate, very tall double doors at the entry, and bowed when Henry stepped forward. One knocked at the door and a moment later it swung open. On the other side was a man who had a bearing similar to Brian, the butler at Thomas’s house, only a great deal haughtier. Henry walked in, tossing his cloak at the man.

“These two are with me,” Henry said. “Where is the rest of my party?”

“In the Rose Room,” said the man, catching the cloak and handing it to a footman without batting an eyelid or losing the slightest bit of his bearing. “Shall I take your sword, my lord?”

“Most certainly not,” said Henry. “Thomas, Alex, with me.”

The front hall was extravagant. A chandelier of at least fifty candles lit the room. The floor was marble, the stones laid out to perfectly follow the original grain of the rock, and polished bright. Henry strode through it without even wiping his boots, Thomas and Eileen hard on his heels.

Henry led them past a sweeping staircase that split halfway up to reach two balconies above and through a pair of smaller, ornate doors that led to a long, scrupulously neat and well-decorated hallway. Halfway down were yet another set of double doors. He threw them open and went in, drawing his rapier and dagger as he went. There was a shout from within. Thomas and Eileen drew their own blades and charged in behind him.

Henry was already halfway across the room, circling around a long, polished table holding the remains of a substantial dinner and a half-dozen bottles of wine. A dozen men, Sir Martin among them, were stumbling to their feet, staring at Henry.

“My lord,” said a large man dressed in deep red velvet from his spot near the head of the table, “What is it that you—”

Henry only stopped advancing when the point of his rapier was directly under Martin’s chin. “I seek a traitor.”

“I am no traitor,” said Martin, not backing away.

“I didn’t say it was you,” said Henry.

“Since your sword is at my throat I thought it a fair conclusion.” Martin’s tone was as condescending as one could manage under the circumstances. “Forgive my assumption.”

“Where have you been today, Sir Martin?” said Henry. “Before and after you came and spoke to me, where were you?”

“Here, Lord Henry,” said Martin, still not batting an eye.

“And I should believe that?”

“I haven’t left the Residence save to seek you,” said Martin. “And since you had no desire to listen to me about which allies to seek,” he took a moment to sneer at Thomas and Eileen, “I came back and stayed here.”

“I must ask, Lord Henry,” said the fat man near the head of the table, “who are these two, and why do they have drawn swords?”

“They’ve drawn because I have,” said Henry, his blade not wavering. “And they will remain drawn until I am satisfied. Who else did you talk to, Martin, when you came looking for me?”

“Your brother won’t be pleased if you kill me,” said Martin, his tone unchanged.

“I’ll give him a heartfelt apology.”

“He spoke to no one, my lord,” said another man, similar to Martin in build and dress. “I was with him the entire time, save when he went into the private room with you. He couldn’t have spoken to anyone without my seeing it.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed; the rapier remained at Martin’s throat.

Martin took a long, slow glance down at the blade, then back up at Henry. “I believe you owe me an apology.”

Henry didn’t blink. “You are confined to this building for the remainder of our stay. If you leave, I will ask the chancellor to order your execution.”

“On what grounds?” Martin demanded.

“Because I wish it.” Henry pulled the sword away and sheathed it in one motion, then turned to the table. He picked up the first bottle in reach and raised it to the light. It was empty. Henry hurled it into the fireplace, shattering it on the fire-burnt brick. Two other bottles soon followed the first. The fourth had wine in it. He looked to the man who had spoken in Sir Martin’s defence. “Have we three clean glasses, Sir Patrick?” he asked. “We are very much in need of a drink.”

The knight bowed and stepped away to a sideboard. All the others around the table visibly relaxed. Thomas realized his blades were still in his hands, and sheathed them. Eileen did the same a moment later.

Patrick came back with three glasses, and Henry divided the last of the wine among them. Patrick carried two to Eileen and Thomas, who took them warily. All eyes were still on Henry as the young lord raised his glass. “To death.”

“Death, Lord Henry?” the fat man repeated.

Henry drank the wine off in one swallow. “Someone tried to kill us tonight. Six on foot, with lanterns.”

Sir Martin turned pale, then red. “And you think I hired them?”

“Who else?”

“Your brother has no design on your life,” said Martin, his voice cold and hard.

“He would have my elder brother’s place,” said Henry. “Perhaps he thinks I’m in the way.”

“He
thinks
,” said Martin, “that you are inconsequential. Your brother’s seat doesn’t pass to Lord John if you die.”

“Get out,” said Henry. He turned his back on Martin and bowed slightly to the others. “The rest of you I must also ask to leave, save the barons, and Sir Lawrence. Henry looked over his shoulder at Sir Lawrence. “For some reason I feel the need for a guard.”

Sir Lawrence bowed, then went to the far wall, where a line of swords in their scabbards hung on pegs. He took one down and hung it from his belt, then went to stand behind Henry. The others bowed, collected their weapons and took their leave, brushing past Eileen, who was still standing in the doorway. Sir Martin, his jaw set and his face red, left last, taking the time to put the sword on before stepping out of the room. The fat man and another, shorter and slightly less stout man maintained their places.

“Close the door, Alex,” said Henry. Eileen did. Henry took off his sword-belt and seated himself at the head of the table.

The smaller man looked over Thomas and Eileen. “So, is one of these two…?” He didn’t finish the sentence, but looked at Henry pointedly.

“They both are,” said Henry. “Thomas was one of the two men. Alex there is the girl, Eileen.” He waved Thomas and Eileen towards two of the vacant chairs. “Sit, you two.”

Both the barons and Lawrence stared at Eileen in surprise. The larger of the two men recovered first and bowed to them as Thomas and Eileen took off their own swords and sat at the table. “I am Baron Cavish. My lands are the most southern of the duchy. I chose to escort Lord Henry here to see about securing more supplies for our castle, should it become the last point of retreat.”

“And I am Baron Meekin,” said the other. “My lands lie furthest north, and have been over-run by the invaders.” He looked closer at Thomas. “Is what Lord Henry says true?”

“Occasionally,” said Thomas, making both barons’ eyebrows rise. “What’s he saying?”

“That the bishop used magic against you,” said Baron Cavish. “And that you defeated the bishop’s men and then defeated the bishop.”

“They know all about the
bishop’s
magic,” said Henry, emphasizing the word enough for Thomas to know whose magic the men did not know about. “All the northern lords do. And of course, my father knows
all
the details.”

Of course he does,
thought Thomas.
Otherwise he probably wouldn’t have sent Henry down here in the first place.
To the baron he said, “Yes, the bishop used magic, and yes, we defeated him.” He remembered Benjamin, lying on the ground in the midst of the standing stones. “There were five of us, though.”