Read Online Cold Magics by Erik Buchanan - Free Book Online Page B

longer, then turned his attention back to Lionel and Eileen, neither of whom had moved. “Lionel, Eileen. Sit down.”
    “I’m fine,” said Lionel, his tone leaving no doubt in Thomas’s mind that the opposite was true. “What’s going on, Thomas?”
    “I don’t know. They might be part of the same group that attacked Henry last night.”
    “Henry?” said George, coming back in with one of Henry’s robes. “I thought he was up north.”
    “He came back yesterday.”
    “And already you’re in trouble?” asked Lionel.
    “We were attacked,” corrected Thomas. “Last night, on the way to the theatre.”
    Lionel frowned, then grimaced at the pain. “Is this to do with the mess this spring?”
    “I don’t know,” said Thomas. I think it’s part of a new mess. Lionel was swaying where he stood. “You aren’t doing yourself any good with that knife in you. Sit down. Please.”
    Lionel ignored Thomas, but Eileen put her hand on his arm and something in his daughter’s expression changed his mind. He picked up the chair George had thrown, groaning as he did, and sat on it. The large man took a deep breath and winced. “By the Four, I haven’t done that in twenty years,” he said, shaking his head. “Not since the last time bandits came to Elmvale. Didn’t know I still had it in me.”
    “Thank the Four you did,” said Thomas. “Eileen, how are you?”
    “It hurts like a demon,” said Eileen, taking the robe from George and pulling out her dagger. She started cutting strips from the cloth. “I can fix it, though.”
    George stepped behind his father and looked at the blade. “How far is it in?”
    “Far enough,” said Lionel, gritting his teeth.
    Thomas looked. Three inches of thick blade were sticking out from the man’s back.
    “What in the name of the Four…”
    Thomas turned, his rapier coming up to guard. George raised the chair in his hands. Sir Michael stood in the doorway, eyes wide, hand going to the hilt of his own blade. Thomas lowered his weapons. “It’s all right. He’s one of Henry’s knights.”
    “Henry’s knights?” Lionel frowned. “Why does Henry have knights?”
    “He’s Lord Henry,” said Eileen. “Sir Michael, this is my father, Lionel. My brother, George.”
    Michael ignored the introductions. “What happened?” he stepped into the room and looked at the corpses. “Who are these?”
    “We don’t know,” said Thomas.
    Michael looked at them. “The girl is hurt?”
    “Not badly,” said Eileen, covering her breast with a folded strip of Henry’s robe. “My father is worse.”
    “Your father?” Michael looked to Lionel, saw the dagger sticking out of him. “By the Four…”
    “It’s all right,” said Lionel, wincing as he breathed in. “I’m thick-skinned.”
    “We’ll take care of him,” said Thomas. “Can you get the watch?”
    “The watch?” The knight looked at the bloody mess on the floor. “Aye, we’ll be wanting them. Wait here.”
    He turned on his heel and left. The smell of blood and death was filling the room. Thomas looked to Eileen and George. “I think we should wait on the balcony.”
    “Thomas!” Eileen gestured at the dagger protruding from her father’s back. “It’s cold out there. He doesn’t need to catch a chill.”
    “He,” said Lionel, pulling himself to his feet, “will be perfectly fine outside. Better where the air is clear than in here with these three.”
    “You shouldn’t be standing,” said Eileen, trying to step in his way.
    “Well, bring the chair and I won’t be,” said Lionel. “George, give me a hand.”
    George looked shocked at the request, but moved to his father’s side, taking his arm with one hand and the chair with the other. Eileen followed, holding a length of black cloth to her breast and wincing with the pain.
    Outside the wind had risen again, making Thomas and Eileen shiver the moment they stepped out the door. George and Lionel didn’t seem to notice the cold. George