said Thomas carefully. “I took the power first. Then I killed him.”
“Why?” asked Sir Walter.
“He said he was going to have us all hanged,” said Thomas. “I couldn’t let him do that to my friends.”
The king shook himself, like a dog shedding water from a light rain. “I think that’s enough, Thomas. Put out the light and get rid of the fog.”
Thomas doused the light, then looked around, uncertain.
“Is there a problem?” asked Sir Walter.
“I never actually learned how to get rid of fog,” said Thomas. “I could try to summon some wind, maybe…”
The king snorted. “No, thank you.”
“It’s already starting to lighten a bit,” said Henry. “If you opened the windows, maybe?”
“I think we will leave it,” said the king. “Come with me, please.”
The king disappeared into the fog in the direction of the small side door. Thomas hurried after, as much to keep from getting lost as anything else. The two guards snapped to attention the moment the door opened, and the king walked through. If either of them had an opinion about the fog that rolled out of the throne room, they didn’t give it.
“We are hungry,” said the king. “We’ll need breakfast for four in the private library, please.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the guard. He saluted and left at a fast pace.
“Excellent,” said the king. “This way, please.”
The king led them through two hallways, up a staircase and down a third hallway to a small, plain door. The king opened it and the musty scent of old paper and dust hit Thomas’s nose immediately. The room was filled with shelves of scrolls and books, with several comfortable chairs and a table in their midst. The king took one of the chairs and said, “Please, sit.”
The other three did, and no one said anything more. The king seemed contemplative, Sir Walter inquisitive, Henry calm and Thomas hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. The room stayed silent until servants arrived at the door with mulled wine and trays full of fruits, cheese and bread. The king helped himself and gestured for the others to do the same. The smell of the food made Thomas realize he hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before. He filled his plate and wolfed half of it down almost at once.
“Better, I take it?” asked the king, once all the plates were empty.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “And thank you. It’s been a long night.”
“I usually don’t bring food in here,” the king said. “Too likely to spill it onto the books.”
“It’s a very nice collection,” said Thomas.
“Thank you,” said the king. “I keep this one mostly closed. All the books in it are on the Church’s forbidden list.”
Thomas’s eyes went wide and he looked closer at the volumes. Henry whistled appreciatively. “Impressive. Does the Archbishop know?”
“One suspects he does,” said the king, “though he never mentions it.”
The king stepped over to one of the shelves and pulled down a thick book with a worn leather cover. There had been gold filigree on it once, but it had faded to near-invisibility. He held it out to Thomas. “What do you think of this?”
Thomas took the book and gently opened it. The script was old-fashioned and hand-written, and on the first page were the words, “Spells of divine guidance and learning, for the worship and service of She who protects us all.”
Interesting. Thomas turned to the first spell inside. It was prettily written, and very poetically described how one could make contact with the Mother and ask her for her protection and guidance. Unfortunately, it was not magic. Thomas turned the page, then the next, and the next. Finally he leafed through the book front to back.
“It’s beautifully written, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “But there’s no real magic in it.”
Sir Walter peered over Thomas’s shoulder. “Really? They looked like spells to me.”
“They look like spells,” agreed Thomas. “But
“Why?” asked Sir Walter.
“He said he was going to have us all hanged,” said Thomas. “I couldn’t let him do that to my friends.”
The king shook himself, like a dog shedding water from a light rain. “I think that’s enough, Thomas. Put out the light and get rid of the fog.”
Thomas doused the light, then looked around, uncertain.
“Is there a problem?” asked Sir Walter.
“I never actually learned how to get rid of fog,” said Thomas. “I could try to summon some wind, maybe…”
The king snorted. “No, thank you.”
“It’s already starting to lighten a bit,” said Henry. “If you opened the windows, maybe?”
“I think we will leave it,” said the king. “Come with me, please.”
The king disappeared into the fog in the direction of the small side door. Thomas hurried after, as much to keep from getting lost as anything else. The two guards snapped to attention the moment the door opened, and the king walked through. If either of them had an opinion about the fog that rolled out of the throne room, they didn’t give it.
“We are hungry,” said the king. “We’ll need breakfast for four in the private library, please.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” said the guard. He saluted and left at a fast pace.
“Excellent,” said the king. “This way, please.”
The king led them through two hallways, up a staircase and down a third hallway to a small, plain door. The king opened it and the musty scent of old paper and dust hit Thomas’s nose immediately. The room was filled with shelves of scrolls and books, with several comfortable chairs and a table in their midst. The king took one of the chairs and said, “Please, sit.”
The other three did, and no one said anything more. The king seemed contemplative, Sir Walter inquisitive, Henry calm and Thomas hoped he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. The room stayed silent until servants arrived at the door with mulled wine and trays full of fruits, cheese and bread. The king helped himself and gestured for the others to do the same. The smell of the food made Thomas realize he hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before. He filled his plate and wolfed half of it down almost at once.
“Better, I take it?” asked the king, once all the plates were empty.
“Yes, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “And thank you. It’s been a long night.”
“I usually don’t bring food in here,” the king said. “Too likely to spill it onto the books.”
“It’s a very nice collection,” said Thomas.
“Thank you,” said the king. “I keep this one mostly closed. All the books in it are on the Church’s forbidden list.”
Thomas’s eyes went wide and he looked closer at the volumes. Henry whistled appreciatively. “Impressive. Does the Archbishop know?”
“One suspects he does,” said the king, “though he never mentions it.”
The king stepped over to one of the shelves and pulled down a thick book with a worn leather cover. There had been gold filigree on it once, but it had faded to near-invisibility. He held it out to Thomas. “What do you think of this?”
Thomas took the book and gently opened it. The script was old-fashioned and hand-written, and on the first page were the words, “Spells of divine guidance and learning, for the worship and service of She who protects us all.”
Interesting. Thomas turned to the first spell inside. It was prettily written, and very poetically described how one could make contact with the Mother and ask her for her protection and guidance. Unfortunately, it was not magic. Thomas turned the page, then the next, and the next. Finally he leafed through the book front to back.
“It’s beautifully written, your Majesty,” said Thomas. “But there’s no real magic in it.”
Sir Walter peered over Thomas’s shoulder. “Really? They looked like spells to me.”
“They look like spells,” agreed Thomas. “But
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