“So am I,” said George, grinning.
Thomas reached for his breeches. “How are they with the idea?”
“Not happy.” George tossed him his breeches. “Father wants to talk to you.”
“Wonderful.” Thomas stood and pulled the breeches up, then reached for his shirt. “How much did you actually tell them?”
“About magic and that?” George snorted. “Not a thing. And neither should you, if you want to go anywhere. See you outside.”
Thomas finished dressing, packed his clothes into his bag, and took it and himself down the stairs. There was a steaming bowl of porridge on the table, with a hot mug of tea beside it. Lionel was sitting on the other side of the table, watching Thomas as he came down the ladder. The man looked older than he had two days before, Thomas was sure. The lines around his eyes and mouth were more pronounced, and his lips and brows were pressed downward in a frown.
Thomas spotted two small bags sitting by the door and put his own bag down with them. He looked at the porridge, then at Lionel. “Oh, sit down,” said Lionel, his tone coloured more with amusement than irritation. “I’m not going to bite you, and your breakfast is getting cold.”
Thomas did as he was told. The porridge smelled wonderful and his appetite should have been better, but Lionel’s gaze was making his stomach roll. Even so, he picked up the spoon and dug in.
“George says you’re taking a little trip.”
Thomas, caught with a mouthful of porridge, swallowed it down before saying, “Aye. To Lakewood for a few days.”
“To see a woman.”
“Ailbe,” said Thomas. “Timothy said her name when he was dying. I thought she might be kin.”
“I see.” Lionel looked at the bags by the door, and his frown deepened. “Are you coming back?”
That
startled Thomas. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Lionel didn’t say anything. Thomas could see him putting his thoughts in order and waited. At last, Lionel said, “Lad, I’ve known your father for a long time. He always drove a hard bargain, and the High Father knows we disagreed on most things, but I thought he was a good man. What he did to you, though…” Lionel shook his head, leaving the sentence unfinished. Instead, he said, “After you three went out, Magda and I talked about what happened and what your father is doing with this threat of the magistrate and all and, well… we decided that, should you want to leave town for good, well, we won’t be telling the Reeve where you’re going. All right?”
Thomas nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. “I appreciate it.”
“Aye. Well then,” the smith reached into his shirt and pulled out a small pouch, “these are for you. They’re not gold, but they’ll get you a few meals on the way back to the city.”
Thomas nearly refused, then changed his mind and took the purse. He wasn’t staying away, he knew, but he had no idea how long he was going to be gone. “Thank you.” He put the purse in his bag. “I didn’t ask George and Eileen to come.”
“I know. They said you were ready to head out by yourself, last night.”
“Maybe it would be better if I went alone.”
“After all the work they did to convince their mother and me?” Lionel chuckled. “No, lad, they’ll go with you as far as Lakewood.”
“But…”
I don’t want them getting hurt.
“What about the bandits?” Thomas asked. “The ones that killed Timothy?”
“Magda brought them up,” said Lionel. “George managed to convince her that they were city folks, and that the three of you would be fine, as long as you took the path instead of the road.”
“And did he convince you, as well?”
“Aye, he did.” Lionel stood up and headed for the door. “Don’t worry, lad. George and Eileen will be with you to Lakewood.”
Thomas nodded. “I’ll take care of them.”
“And they’ll take care of you,” Lionel picked up George and Eileen’s bags, “for as long as you’re with them. Now hurry up with your breakfast. The lass was about ready to burst, last time I looked.”
Eileen did look ready to burst when Thomas stepped out the door. George was managing to look slightly less impatient, but the tapping of his foot against the ground was a giveaway. Both had walking sticks in their hands—George had two—and both hurried forward to get their bags from their father. Magda, who had been standing with them, had another bag in her hand and the same look of foreboding she’d worn the time Thomas and George had announced they were going to make a raft.
“Are you ready?” Eileen asked, taking her bag from Lionel.
“I am,” said Thomas, “but you two don’t have to come with me.”
“We know,” said George, taking his own bag. “We’re coming anyway.”
“I still don’t like it,” Magda raised a warning finger at all of them. “The last thing I need is to be worrying about the three of you.”
“It’s only Lakewood, Mother,” George protested. “Thomas and I went there by ourselves when we were fourteen, remember?”
“Aye, and I didn’t like it then, either.” She gave a long glare at the three of them, then handed George the bag. “Here’s lunch for you.”
“Thanks, Mum,” said George, looking inside.
“Leave it until lunch,” his mother warned, her tone making George close the bag quickly. She turned to Thomas. “And you. Did Lionel talk to you?”
“Aye, he did.” said Thomas. “Thank you. For everything.”
A worried frown took over Magda’s face. “Are you sure this is the right thing to be doing, Thomas?”
Thomas nodded. “Aye, I am.”
She nodded, then pulled him into a tight hug, holding him hard for a time, before stepping away. “Good luck to you, then.”
She turned away, rubbing at one of her eyes, then hugged her own children. Lionel shook Thomas’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder, then said goodbye to all three. Taking Magda’s hand in his own, he led her back into the house.
“What was that about?” said Eileen as she put her bag on her shoulder.
“They don’t think I’m coming back,” Thomas said. “They think I’m using this trip to run away.”
George looked startled. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He handed Thomas a walking stick. “Are you?”
Thomas took the stick. “You think I’d give my father the satisfaction?”
George snorted. “No, I don’t think you would.” He shouldered his bag, adjusted it. “Come on, then.”
George led them away from the house and up the road. Thomas kept pace, surprised at how easily he was moving. The night’s sleep had made a world of difference. Walking still hurt, but it was only a mild, distant ache. His ribs were better, too, as long as he didn’t reach too far in any direction. His face was still very tender, as he discovered when he slapped at an insect on his cheek. George and Eileen rightfully laughed at him for that, and Thomas did his best not to touch his face again.
George stepped off the road and led them up a nearly-overgrown path into the woods. He stopped a dozen yards into the woods. “Right, then.” He reached into his bag, rummaged a moment, then came up with two long daggers in sheaths.
“Where did you get those?” asked Thomas, stepping closer to have a look.
George grinned. “Da and I make a batch of knives and daggers every year, to sell at the summer markets.” He handed one of the blades to Thomas, the other to Eileen. “Made these ones myself. Father thought they were too big, but I like them.”
Thomas drew the dagger. It was as long as Thomas’s own, with a thick blade that thinned to a gleaming, keen edge and a needle-like point. He held it up and squinted down the length of the blade. There were no signs of dents or imperfections. “This is very good.”
George looked pleased. “Aye?”
“As far as I can tell, aye.”
“Thank you.” George took back the knife, sheathed it, and started tying it to his belt. “You’ve got your sword and dagger,” he said. “I was thinking it wouldn’t be a bad idea for both of us to be carrying something, too.”
“Are you starting to believe me, then?”
“Nay, I still think you’re cracked,” George said. “But it can’t hurt to be careful. Now come on, we’ve a long way to go.”
They started up the trail, pushing aside branches and stepping over the roots and shrubs that dotted the path. Thomas took the time to tell them everything that had happened to him since he’d come home. George and Eileen still looked doubtful when he’d finished, but neither called him insane to his face, which Thomas supposed was something of an improvement.
The path to Lakewood was little-used and very overgrown. While the road took a long, mainly flat path around the steep hills that separated the two towns, the footpath ran up and down the hills in a nearly straight line to Lakewood. An hour into the trek, all three were making good use of their walking sticks on the slopes. Thomas was surprised that he hadn’t remembered how rough the path was from the last trip he and George took to Lakewood. Further proof, he decided, that memory was selective rather than accurate.
It wasn’t an unpleasant walk. They kept a steady pace, and Elmvale fell quickly behind. The day was warm but there were streams to drink from and the leaves were in full foliage. Elms and maples and oaks all shaded them from the worst of the heat and dappled the ground with spots of sunlight that peeked between their leaves. Eileen peppered Thomas with questions as morning wore on. What was the city like? How big was the Academy? What classes had he taken? How many sweethearts did he have? Thomas answered as best he could, but his mind was elsewhere. He was fretting about what he’d left behind as much as about what they would find ahead of them. His replies to her questions became shorter and shorter, and after the third or fourth monosyllabic answer, Eileen gave up.
Just as the sun reached the top of its arc, the path opened into a pleasant glade topping a high hill.
“Half-way,” said George, opening up the bag his mother had packed. “Lunch.”
They snacked on dried sausage and cheese and biscuits, then went on their way again. Clouds rolled in as the afternoon wore on, covering the sun and making the day a little cooler. They hiked on through the woods, breaking free of them as the sun began setting and stepping onto the road just outside of Lakewood. It was a fair sized town, sitting on the edge of a very large lake that reflected the red and gold of the sunset. There were many small houses spread along the shore and several larger buildings further inland—homes for the Mayor and the district sheriff, Thomas guessed. A large inn stood between the lake and the road. Behind it, twenty or so fishing boats were pulled up onto the shore for the night.
“We should find Ailbe,” said Thomas, looking at the houses and wondering how.
George shook his head. “We should find some food, first. I don’t know about you, but that lunch stopped filling my belly hours ago.”
Thomas could feel his own belly rumbling, but wasn’t ready to give in. “She might be in danger.”
“How are we going to find her?” asked Eileen. “All we have is a name. We don’t know where she lives. We don’t even know what she looks like.”
“We can ask.”
“Aye, we can,” said George, moving past Thomas. “And the best one to ask is the innkeeper. Now come on.”
The inn was two stories high and large, its shutters and door brightly painted and open wide to catch the evening breeze. The smell of freshly cooked fish wafted out from the kitchens and into the evening air, making Thomas’s stomach rumble all the more. The inn was crowded with locals, enjoying the end of the day. All heads turned the moment the three stepped inside. Travelers were not so common that the sight of three new faces would fail to draw attention from everyone in the room. Especially if one of the three was a pretty girl and another had a sword and two black eyes. Thomas, used to the city where strangers would draw no more than a cursory glance, stopped in the doorway. George however, pushed right through, giving polite greetings to those he passed as he headed for the bar. Eileen stayed right behind him. Thomas followed a moment later, nodding to those that were staring nervously at his sword.
“Three of your house best, please,” George said to the man behind the bar. “We came from Elmvale this morning and it’s a long, dry walk.”
“This morning?” the bartender raised an eyebrow. “That’s thirty miles by the road.”
“Aye, but only ten by the trail, and that’s how we came.”
The bartender poured three drinks from a large cask, then handed them across. George dropped some coins on the bar, took one mug for his own, and gestured for the others to do the same.
“Thank you,” Eileen said picking up her own drink. “I don’t suppose there’s any of that wonderful fish we smell left, is there?”
“Indeed there is.” The bartender beamed at them. “One each, would you like?”
“Two for me,” George called. “And some bread and cheese if you have it.”
“We do,” said the bartender. “Anything more?”
“Not for now,” George took a drink, then wiped his mouth and sighed. “Very good. Thank you, kindly.”
He led Thomas and Eileen to an open table and, putting his bag under one of the chairs, sat down. Eileen did the same. Thomas took off his sword and hung it on the back of his own chair, as much a sign to those watching that he wasn’t after trouble as for his own comfort, and took his own seat.
“So,” said Thomas. “Now what?”
“Now,” said George, “we get our meal, and then ask for directions.”
Thomas chafed at the delay, but knew it was inevitable. He took a swig of the beer and found it to be very good. He also found it woke his appetite to full strength, and when the bread and cheese arrived he dug in with a will.
“So you came over the hills did you?” asked a man at the next table. Thomas, whose four years in the city had taught him not to bother others in a tavern, was quite surprised. The other two were completely unperturbed. The man seemed to be twice as old as any of the others in the tavern, and was missing a fair number of his teeth. “Quite the walk for a young lady.”
“Quite a walk for anyone,” said Eileen. “Why, both my brother and his friend here were nearly ready to drop with exhaustion by the time they got to town.” “Not that you were much better,” chided George. “And what is it that brings you here?” asked a portly woman from the table on the other side. “Surely not just to taste the fish?” “Now there’s nothing wrong with the fish,” protested the bartender. “Why, it was fresh caught this morning.” “And every other morning,” agreed the woman. “How about tomorrow you catch some deer instead?” A general chuckle rolled through the room, Thomas took advantage of the moment to say, “Actually, we’re looking for someone.” “Are you now?” said the old man, his interest clearly piqued. Folks around the room leaned closer, ears cocked to listen. “Aye,” Thomas looked around the room in case she was there. “A woman