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

moment later, he breathed deep and straightened up. He smiled, the expression slightly forced, but with real pleasure behind it. “Such a night of adventures!” he said, the showman’s tone back in his voice. “I think it calls for a drink, don’t you?” Timothy turned to George. “Build up the fire, lad, and I’ll get a bottle and some mugs. We’ll toast your victory over the forces of darkness.” He stopped, and some of the confidence was gone from his voice when he said, “You will join me, won’t you?”
    Thomas looked to his friends. George nodded first then Eileen, a little hesitantly, a moment later. “Gladly,” said Thomas.
    Timothy moved lightly back across the clearing and into the wagon. George tossed the two torches into the fire-pit, then started adding kindling and branches from the pile Timothy had beside the pit. Thomas tossed his torch in beside the other two. Timothy came back moments later with a bottle and mugs in one hand, a lute in the other, and blankets over his arms.
    “Take these, would you, Scholar?” he said, waving the bottle. “We may as well be comfortable as not.”
    Thomas relieved him of the drink, while Eileen took the blankets. The fire began to blaze up. George fed several larger logs into the pit, then sat back to watch the results.
    “That’s it,” said Timothy, looking at the fire. “Well done! Now, one blanket for the lassie, one for each of you, and one for me. And mugs all around. Be careful pouring, Scholar; that’s a strong whiskey. Just the thing to end a night of adventures.”
    In short order everyone was seated on a blanket and all were sipping at the whiskey. Timothy tuned the lute then began strumming gently. Only the faint shaking of his hands betrayed his state of mind, and the tremor quickly stilled as he expertly ran through chord changes and finger exercises.
    “Here’s to you three,” he said after a time, taking one hand from the lute and using it to raise his mug. “Without you, I’d probably be beaten and robbed and my wagon burnt down around me.” He drank deeply. Thomas followed his example, as did George. Eileen did the same and nearly choked, making George grin. She stuck her tongue out at her brother once she got her breath back, then sipped at the whiskey.
    “Tell me,” said Timothy, looking at the three young people, “not that I’m not grateful, but what in the names of the Four are you doing out on a night like this?” “Taking Thomas to our house for the night,” said George. “I saw the lights and Thomas heard the shouting. So we came to have a look.”
    “And thank the Blessed Daughter, Granter of Wishes, for that,” Timothy took another drink of the whiskey. “Why were you taking the scholar to your house?” He looked at Thomas. “Thought you’d just come home, lad. Don’t your parents want you?”
    “Not tonight, they don’t,” said Thomas. He took another swallow, shuddered, and changed the subject with, “By the Four above, did you make this yourself?”
    “Nay, got it two years ago from a seller of spirits in exchange for a song.” “A song?” Eileen leaned forward. “What sort of song?” “Oh, it’s a depressing one,” warned Timothy. “He lost his love while he was
    serving in the king’s fleet and wanted a song about her. Not a great one for late nights by the fire.” “I’d like to hear it,” said Eileen. “I’ve never heard a song played by the person
    who made it.” Timothy shrugged. “Well, if the lads have no objection.” “None.” “None at all.” “Then I’ll sing it.” His voice was a light baritone, and his fingers roved
    skilfully over the lute as he worked his way through the lyrics:
    “Alas, my love has gone away, And I must wait here many a day. Love, I cannot follow your way Until in the ground I lie.
    “I was to sail across the sea She begged, ‘Sir, come back to me. For you know I will love only thee Until in the ground I lie.’
    “As my love watched and