Small Magics (36 page)

George cast a mock-baleful glance at his sister. “Or my ears.”

“You did most of the talking,” she protested. “Why, we could hardly get a word in edgewise for all you were gossiping.”

“And when you did, it was to ask poor Thomas about the Academy,” George replied with what little dignity he could muster. “Do you not think about anything else?”

“And when
you
spoke it was about girls,” Eileen shot back. “Do
you
not think about anything else?”

“Were you two always like this?” Thomas asked before George could reply. Relieved as he was to hear good humour from each of them, he was tired enough not to want to hear it right then.

George thought about it for a moment. “Aye. Pretty much.”

Thomas sighed. “How come I never noticed before?”

“Because you two never let me be around before,” said Eileen. “You were always sending me away.”

“Thomas was always sending you away,” corrected George. “I wanted you around.”

It was Thomas’s turn to protest. “You said she was someone handy to blame.”

“She was,” said George. “You said she was an infernal nuisance.”

“Infernal nuisance?” Eileen repeated, almost managing to sound outraged. “I’m insulted!”

“That was five years ago,” said Thomas. “I don’t think you’re a nuisance now.”

“Aye, I know what you think of me now,” said Eileen archly. “I saw it in your stare the first time you saw me.”

“I was looking at your eyes.”

Eileen snorted. “You weren’t looking that high.”

“I was, too!”

“Really?” Eileen turned her back to him. “And what do they look like, then?”

The words came nearly by themselves. “Like a stream whose water sparkles in the sunlight as it flows over a bed of pure blue cornflowers.”

In the silence that followed, Thomas could practically hear George’s mouth fall open. Eileen turned back and stared at him. Even in the dim light of the fire, Thomas could see the flush creeping up her face. After a few moments she managed, “Flatterer.”

“Whole courses dedicated to it,” said Thomas grinning. “Remember?”

“Aye, I remember.” Eileen smiled back. “And how long did it take you to make that one up?”

Thomas smiled back. “I found the words the first day I looked upon you,” he lied. “And they’ve been dancing in my heart ever since.”

Eileen started giggling. George snorted. “Enough of this.” He shook his finger at his sister. “Don’t encourage him,” George warned. “He’ll be writing poems to your eyes next.” He rolled himself up in his blankets. “Now goodnight, the pair of you.”

Thomas followed George’s example and wrapped himself up. He could hear Eileen do the same a few feet away. The fire burned lower and the light grew fainter until Thomas could barely see the branch of the tree above him.

“Thomas?” Eileen’s whisper floated out of the darkness.

“Aye?”

“Do you really like my eyes?”

“Aye. I do.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Eileen said, “I like yours too.”

George rolled over, groaned, and pretended to stuff the blankets in his ears. Eileen reached over to hit her brother, then settled herself again. Soon, both were asleep.

The fire turned to embers and the night slowly went silent, save for the occasional grunt from George as he rolled about finding himself a comfortable position. Thomas listened to his friends snoring, then turned his face to the fire, and watched until the embers burnt out and sleep claimed him.

***

They rose with the sun, stiff and wet with the dew, finished off the last of their food, and started walking again. The road ran on along the river. The sun shone off of it, turning the green water white with its reflection. The oaks and elms gave way to willows for a distance, and the long branches draped down to brush their shoulders and hair. Wildflowers grew along the road, opening as the morning progressed and giving spots of colour in the deep green and brown of the woods. Thomas led them in word games for the first part of the morning, then Eileen and Thomas took turns naming the plants and their properties as they went.

Conversation lapsed as hunger began to get a hold on them. Noon came and went with no food. The three kept walking, falling into their own thought as they did. George whistled an occasional tune, and Eileen walked with only half an eye on the road and the other half on the plants and the trees.

Thomas’s thoughts flitted about in several directions, from the events at home, to his plans in the city, to his father, to the pretty girl who was walking a few paces ahead of him. And despite having shorn her hair and dressed in boys’ clothes she was still a very pretty girl.

Thomas shook his head.
We’re on the run. This is no time to think about girls.

Once there, though, his mind decided to stay. Thomas tried to get his thoughts back on his problems or on the road, but he was tired of his problems and the road was boring and Eileen was far more interesting than either. Part of Thomas found it absurd. He was in the most dangerous situation that he could be, and all he could think of was the way her raggedly cropped hair framed her face, or the way her legs swung in the breeches that she filled out far better than—

He put his mind firmly back on the road, and kept it there until they reached The Bend, a small fishing village just off the road, early in the afternoon. Thomas, who had stopped there on his walk to Elmvale, led them at once to the inn. It was mostly empty, and the three got a table and the remains of the inn’s lunch, which they fell on like wolves on prey. It wasn’t until after the last scrap was gone and the three were nursing second pints that Thomas thought to ask about boats heading downstream. There was one, they were told, but the innkeeper had no idea as to whether or not it was leaving that night.

Thomas and his friends grabbed their bags and headed for the door as fast as their overly-full stomachs would let them. A family of five blocked their way out, and Thomas waited impatiently for them to come in before leading George and Eileen on a fast march out the door and to the river. By the time they reached it Thomas was promising himself he wouldn’t eat so much so fast again. They stumbled onto the village dock, gasping and clutching their full bellies. The boat in question was a large river barge, some forty or so feet long. It was half-empty, with a large square of the deck in the centre bare. There were no rails around the deck; only piles of crates and barrels set out at balanced intervals and securely lashed down. A small square cabin with a metal chimney out one side took up part of the back portion of the barge. A young man about their age was leaning against it, looking bored. Thomas called out, and the man came over.

“Is the captain on board?” Thomas asked when the man was close enough.

“Nope,” said the young sailor. “He’s on his way to the tavern with Ma and the others.”

“Ma?” repeated George. “Your mother’s on the ship?”

“And my three brothers. We’re a family affair, we are.” The young man grinned. “And a right noisy one, too.”

Thomas groaned, realizing that they’d passed them on the way out the inn door. George and Eileen rolled their eyes and exchanged annoyed looks, which they at once directed to Thomas. Thomas ignored them and turned back to the sailor. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow after breakfast. Father wanted to see if he can get some more cargo in town, make up for the space on the deck. We had a half-dozen horses we dropped off two towns back, and he’s been grumpy about the extra space ever since.”

“Would three passengers do instead?” asked Eileen.

“It might,” said the sailor. “Where are you headed?”

“Hawksmouth.”

“That would make him happy, all right. Talk to Father, but make sure Mother’s with him. He drives a harder bargain when she’s not.”

The three said their thanks then headed back to the inn at a much more comfortable pace. Thomas found himself sighing with relief. He had feared there would be no barge at all, and that the three would have had to walk all the way to Hawksmouth. All they had to do was spend one more night on shore and then they would be safe from the bishop—for a little while, at least.

Eileen must have been thinking the same thought, for she asked, “So, what about tonight? Do we stay at the inn, or hide in the woods again?”

“The inn,” said George. “You saw how small that cabin was. We’ll be sleeping on deck for…” he turned to Thomas. “For how long, anyway?”

Thomas thought about it. “Five days, I think.”

“Five days,” repeated George. “If this is our last chance to sleep on a bed for five days, I’m going to take it.”

“Five days?” Eileen wrinkled up her face. “I don’t suppose there’s a bath at the inn?”

“I don’t think so,” said Thomas, “though if you ask them to, they’ll probably send a wash-tub and some water up to the room.” He grinned. “They’ll probably even supply a lad to pour the water over you for a rinse, if you like.”

“And won’t that be an education for him,” said Eileen, tartly. “If I’m going to be spending a week in close quarters, I want to start clean, at least.” She gave a critical eye to her companions. “And it’s an idea that wouldn’t do you two any harm, either.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” agreed Thomas. “We’ll talk to the captain first, then arrange the room and washtub.”

They reached the inn and headed inside. The captain was sitting near the fire, his feet out and a large mug in his hand. He was a spare man, with no more flesh on his bones than was necessary to hold them together. His wife was cut from the same cloth, save that her hair was long and black, while her husband’s was gone. Unsurprisingly, the three young men sitting at the table were also lean, but with tight curls that clung to their heads. All looked up as Thomas and his friends approached.

“I understand you’re going downstream,” said Thomas.

“I am,” said the man. “Captain Richard Gloust. And you are?”

“Thomas. This is George…” Thomas pointed at him, and was just changing his finger’s target to Eileen when he realized that he had no idea what to call her. He spoke quickly to cover any hesitation, “and his brother.”

“My wife, Vicki,” said the captain. “My sons.”

The boys waved, the lack of introduction not fazing them in the slightest.

“We’re looking for a ride downstream,” said Thomas. “Your son on the boat said you had room.”

“Well,” the captain, leaned back in his chair. “I’ve got the space, all right, but I’d hate to waste it on passengers. Cargo pays more.”

His sons and wife nodded in agreement. Thomas nodded back, recognizing that the opening gambit in the discussion that would decide the price. “If you had cargo it would,” Thomas agreed. “As it is, you’re only five days from Hawksmouth and have a half-empty boat.”

“It could fill up,” said the captain. He took a drink, wiped his mouth, then continued. “Three people can take up a fair amount of space.” He nodded at George. “Especially one as big as him.”

“Think of him as extra ballast,” Thomas suggested. A chuckle ran around the table.

“He will be that,” said the captain’s wife. “Why, we could use him as an anchor, if we needed.”

“Aye,” agreed George, “though if I’m working for my passage, you’ll be needing to pay me, rather than the other way around.”

“How far are you going?” asked the captain.

“Hawksmouth,” said Thomas.

“All the way?” The captain exchanged a glance with at his family and got several nods. “Well, we might arrange something, if you’re going all the way. Of course, it will have to be worth the trip.”

“And what would make it worth the trip?” asked Thomas.

The captain pursed his lips, took another drink. “Well, I’m thinking a silver each.”

“Each?” Thomas echoed. “That’s a bit steep.”

“Aye, but think how much you’ll save, not having to stay at inns for three weeks.”

“Are you going to feed us?”

“Nay. You bring your own.” The man’s wife gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. Thomas guessed this point was negotiable.

George stepped forward. “I take it we’ll be sleeping on the deck, too.”

“Aye, unless it storms. Then we all sleep in the cabin, once we get the barge to shore.”

“So since you’re not giving us food or a roof over our heads,” said George, “How can you expect us to pay so much?”

“You see another barge out there?”

“No.”

“There you go, then.”

“One silver for all three.”

“One each.”

“Two for all three,” offered George. “And meals included at the price.”

“You’ll eat a silver worth of food yourself,” protested the captain. “One each if you want food.”

“Two for all three.”

“It’s a long walk,” said the captain, taking another drink.

“There’ll be another barge along in a day or two,” George sounded supremely confident. “You give us a ride, you come out two silvers ahead and we get there quicker. You don’t, the next one will. Up to you.”

“Enough,” the captain’s wife interrupted before her husband could open his mouth again. “Two for all three of you, you buy your own food, and I’ll do the cooking. Fair enough?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Thomas. “George?”

“Aye.”

“I could have gotten another half-silver,” grumbled the Captain, and all three sons erupted in laughter. The captain joined in a moment later. “All right. Two silvers it is. But you pay before you get on board, and if you’re not on the deck at sunrise, you’re walking to Hawksmouth. And my wife is on board, so I’ll expect you to behave as decent folk at all times.”

“Meaning use the garderrobe and not the edge of the deck,” put in one of his sons, earning a glare from his mother.

“And no wandering around without your breeches,” said another.

Eileen grinned. “We’ll remember.”

“You wear that thing all the time?” asked the captain, nodding at Thomas’s sword.

“Only on the road,” said Thomas

“Well you’ll be on my boat as of tomorrow, and I’d appreciate it if it stayed put away.”

“Fair enough.”

“Right, then. It’s a deal.”

They shook on it, then Thomas bought the entire family a round, which immediately endeared him to the sons, and earned a frown from their mother. Thomas promised to be at the dock first thing in the morning, then went in search of the innkeeper. In short order the three had a room for the night, and the promise of a bath on its way.