they’re just words.”
“And you’re certain how, Thomas?” asked the king.
I will have no secrets left, when he is done. “Spells glow. Blue ones are beneficial. Red are harmful. This book has nothing.”
The king’s eyebrows went up. “Where did you first learn that?”
“In the library beneath the Theology building,” said Thomas.
“Law students aren’t allowed in that library,” said the king.
“No, your Majesty.”
“Should I ask what you were doing there?” The king raised his hand while Thomas struggled to find an answer. “Don’t worry, I won’t. What sort of spells did you find?”
“Everything from straight cutting of wood to warding off vermin, your Majesty. And I have one book with the sort of magic that you hear about in stories.”
“I see,” said the king. He looked around at his library. “And how long would it take you to go through these books and tell me which ones have magic?”
Thomas looked over the room. The books ranged from beautiful to tattered, from thick tomes to slim volumes. He suspected he could pleasantly spend a week there. But to find magic? “A few hours, maybe. I’d have to look through each one.”
“Not today, then, I think.” The king sat down in another chair and rubbed his chin with one hand. “Tell me, Thomas, can you tell when someone has magic?”
“Not to look at them,” said Thomas. “People with magic look the same as everyone else.”
“Then how did you know who had it?” asked Sir Walter. “In Frostmire, I mean.”
“I saw them using it,” said Thomas. “Or felt them using it, when they had me in the caves.”
“And was Frostmire the first place you noticed the magic, Thomas?”
“No, your Majesty. I saw it first back in Elmvale,” said Thomas, “when I went home for Fire Night last spring. A juggler made a ball of light appear in his hand.”
“I think I should like to meet this juggler,” said the king.
Thomas remembered watching the life fleeing from Timothy’s eyes as he bled to death under his own overturned wagon. “He’s dead, your Majesty. Bishop Malloy killed him to take his magic.”
“Is that why you went after Bishop Malloy?” asked Sir Walter. “Revenge for the juggler?”
“No, sir. The Bishop was after my family, sir.”
The king cocked his head to one side. “For magic?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“I see.” The king sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbow on the arm and his chin upon his hand, the very picture of studious thought. “How many others with magic are there?”
“I…” Thomas had never thought about it. “I have no idea, your Majesty.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never looked,” said Thomas. “I was too busy hiding my own from the Church.”
“Look now,” said the king. “I want to know how many there are with magic in my city.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Thomas said. After a moment he added, “May I ask why?”
“The Church of the High Father is not happy,” said Sir Walter. “They have not been happy since last summer, and they are less happy now that stories are going around of how a… magician … managed to defeat the enemies of the kingdom where the Church’s soldiers failed.”
“And given their current fear-mongering about witchcraft,” said the king, “it would be very unfortunate if anyone who can actually use magic were to fall into their hands.”
“Whereas if the king knows who they are he can extend his protection over them, should it become necessary,” said Sir Walter.
“I suggest you start tonight,” the king said. “There are feasts this evening throughout the city. If your juggler was a magician, maybe there are other troubadours who disguise their magic as part of their performance.”
Thomas, who’d been hoping to spend the evening with Eileen, managed not to sigh when he said, “Yes, your Majesty.”
“Do not trust anyone in this, Thomas,” said the king. “Show no one any magic. Not until you have proof of
“And you’re certain how, Thomas?” asked the king.
I will have no secrets left, when he is done. “Spells glow. Blue ones are beneficial. Red are harmful. This book has nothing.”
The king’s eyebrows went up. “Where did you first learn that?”
“In the library beneath the Theology building,” said Thomas.
“Law students aren’t allowed in that library,” said the king.
“No, your Majesty.”
“Should I ask what you were doing there?” The king raised his hand while Thomas struggled to find an answer. “Don’t worry, I won’t. What sort of spells did you find?”
“Everything from straight cutting of wood to warding off vermin, your Majesty. And I have one book with the sort of magic that you hear about in stories.”
“I see,” said the king. He looked around at his library. “And how long would it take you to go through these books and tell me which ones have magic?”
Thomas looked over the room. The books ranged from beautiful to tattered, from thick tomes to slim volumes. He suspected he could pleasantly spend a week there. But to find magic? “A few hours, maybe. I’d have to look through each one.”
“Not today, then, I think.” The king sat down in another chair and rubbed his chin with one hand. “Tell me, Thomas, can you tell when someone has magic?”
“Not to look at them,” said Thomas. “People with magic look the same as everyone else.”
“Then how did you know who had it?” asked Sir Walter. “In Frostmire, I mean.”
“I saw them using it,” said Thomas. “Or felt them using it, when they had me in the caves.”
“And was Frostmire the first place you noticed the magic, Thomas?”
“No, your Majesty. I saw it first back in Elmvale,” said Thomas, “when I went home for Fire Night last spring. A juggler made a ball of light appear in his hand.”
“I think I should like to meet this juggler,” said the king.
Thomas remembered watching the life fleeing from Timothy’s eyes as he bled to death under his own overturned wagon. “He’s dead, your Majesty. Bishop Malloy killed him to take his magic.”
“Is that why you went after Bishop Malloy?” asked Sir Walter. “Revenge for the juggler?”
“No, sir. The Bishop was after my family, sir.”
The king cocked his head to one side. “For magic?”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“I see.” The king sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbow on the arm and his chin upon his hand, the very picture of studious thought. “How many others with magic are there?”
“I…” Thomas had never thought about it. “I have no idea, your Majesty.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never looked,” said Thomas. “I was too busy hiding my own from the Church.”
“Look now,” said the king. “I want to know how many there are with magic in my city.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Thomas said. After a moment he added, “May I ask why?”
“The Church of the High Father is not happy,” said Sir Walter. “They have not been happy since last summer, and they are less happy now that stories are going around of how a… magician … managed to defeat the enemies of the kingdom where the Church’s soldiers failed.”
“And given their current fear-mongering about witchcraft,” said the king, “it would be very unfortunate if anyone who can actually use magic were to fall into their hands.”
“Whereas if the king knows who they are he can extend his protection over them, should it become necessary,” said Sir Walter.
“I suggest you start tonight,” the king said. “There are feasts this evening throughout the city. If your juggler was a magician, maybe there are other troubadours who disguise their magic as part of their performance.”
Thomas, who’d been hoping to spend the evening with Eileen, managed not to sigh when he said, “Yes, your Majesty.”
“Do not trust anyone in this, Thomas,” said the king. “Show no one any magic. Not until you have proof of
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