“At this time of night?” protested Benjamin.
“Night’s the best time of night for scouting,” said Henry, getting to his own feet.
“And stealing,” said Thomas, getting Henry and Benjamin’s total attention with the words.
“Stealing what?” asked Henry.
“Books.”
“Again?” protested Benjamin.
Thomas nodded. “The bishop has to have some books with spells in them. It’s the only way he could learn to do everything he does. If we steal them, we can figure out what he’s up to, and we can stop him.”
“The bishop lost most everything in the riot,” said Benjamin. “How do you know he managed to take them with him?”
“Think about it,” said Thomas. “What’s the most important thing to him right now?”
“Killing you?”
Thomas threw a sour glance at Henry for the suggestion. “No. But thank you for thinking of it.”
“The magic,” said Eileen. “He wants to take the magic.”
“Aye.” Thomas finished tightening the last strap on his saddle. “And if the books give him the spells he needs to do that, he wouldn’t have left them behind. They were probably in the carriage with him.”
“In which case they’ll be at his house,” said Henry. “Under his pillow, probably. Surrounded by twenty guards.”
Thomas nodded. “Aye, that would be about right.”
“And you’re just going to waltz in and steal them, then?”
Thomas felt his lips pull back in a grin like the one Henry had worn when describing the riot. “Aye. You coming?”
Henry grinned back and got to his feet. “Aye.”
George and Eileen stood up a moment later, followed by a much more hesitant Benjamin. The five packed up their food and gear, and Eileen went behind one of the stones to change into breeches and a shirt. Henry made them wait until the moon was well on its way across the sky before setting out. Thomas, best able to see, led them single file down the path towards the little town. Thomas let his horse pick their pace on the path. He wished he could urge the animal to go faster, but forced himself to remember that just because he could see in the dark now didn’t mean that his horse could.
They rode out of the forest and followed the road through the village. There was no sign of anyone awake. Even the village inn had closed its doors for the night. They rode as silently as they could through the town and towards the bishop’s house. Thomas scanned the open ground, looking for a place to hide the horses. He spotted a copse of trees in the middle of the fields. They were much farther away than Thomas would have liked, but he couldn’t see any other cover.
Light flared ahead of them. A dozen men with torches were streaming from the bishop’s house into his yard. Thomas pulled his horse up short, hissing, “Stop!”
His friends were already stopping. Beneath the yellow light of the torches Thomas could see the deep red light that glowed from within each of the bishop’s guards. The academic portion of his brain wondered if the light revealed the men’s true nature, or just showed their intent. The rest of him, however, wanted to get off the road and into hiding before the men spotted them. Hissing, “Come on!” to his friends, he turned his horse and charged for the stand of trees. His friends were right behind him, all of them galloping desperately—and blindly, Thomas realized—across the fields, trusting him to get them to safety.
He jumped off the horse as soon as he reached the copse, and led the animal deep into the little wood. His friends did the same. They tied their horses to branches and went back to the edge of the stand of trees, weapons drawn and ready.
“What do you see?” Henry demanded.
“Nothing,” said Thomas. “The barn’s in the way.”
Shouted commands, audible but not intelligible, floated through the air, accompanied by the sounds of many horses protesting being woken.
“Are they getting ready to leave?” asked Benjamin.
“I think so,” said Henry. “Sounds like it, anyway.”
“Is that good or bad?” asked Eileen.
Henry shrugged, the motion nearly invisible in the dark. “Depends where they’re going. If they come here, it’s bad. Anywhere else is good.”
Thomas kept his eyes on the road, waiting to see some sign of Bishop Malloy. Time dragged itself out. At last, there was movement from the yard, and the soldiers rode out and down the road. There were fourteen all told, all of them carrying torches. There was no sign of the bishop or his familiar.
“Fourteen,” Henry mused. “That leaves six inside.”
“At least,” said Thomas. “He might have had some here before.”
“It still makes the odds better than they were.” Henry said. “This is as good a place to leave the horses as any. We can walk from here, and keep the barn between us and the house.”
“What if we need to get away in a hurry?” asked George.
“Then Benjamin can bring the horses to us,” said Henry.
“Me?” Benjamin was startled.
“You,” said Henry. “You’re big enough to control the horses, and if we went in and got caught, you’d be duty-bound to answer all his questions. Also, you can’t move quietly to save your life.”
Benjamin glared at Henry a moment—a move whose effectiveness was probably completely lost in the darkness—and sounded both unhappy and relieved when he said, “I’d argue but you’re right. I’ll wait here.”
Thomas watched until the riders’ torches were only pin-pricks of light in the distance, then led his friends out of the copse of trees and into the fields. The ground was still newly seeded, with only blades of grass and furrows to hide in. Thomas felt terribly exposed in the bright light of the full moon and angled their path to keep the barn between them and the house. They moved at a crouching run, hands clutching weapons, feet making almost no noise against the dirt and sprouting plants.
It felt like forever before they reached the low wall that edged the bishop’s property and crouched behind it. Thomas waited, listening. He heard nothing. He leaned up and peered over top of the wall, scanning what he could see of the grounds.
“All right,” Thomas breathed. “There’s no one in sight. I’ll go over the wall and look around the corner of the barn. If I don’t see anything, I’ll wave you forward.”
“No you won’t,” whispered Henry. “If they see you, we’re all in trouble. I’ll go.”
“I can see better.”
“It’s across a yard in a full moon,” Henry said. “I can see well enough. Wait here.”
Thomas wanted to protest, but Henry was already over the wall and moving fast and silent to the barn. Thomas cursed to himself and kept his eyes out for anyone that might be coming around the other corner. No one did. Henry took enough time to thoroughly inspect the yard before waving the others forward. George reached him first, Eileen and Thomas close behind.
“All right,” Henry whispered. “There’s no lights on in the house, which doesn’t mean that there’ll be nobody awake. Suggestions?”
“The doors will be locked,” said Thomas. “If he’s in there.”
“So we find a window.”
“What if none are open?” asked George.
Henry grinned. “Then we set fire to the stables. That will get his attention.”
“And bring the rest of his men charging back here at full speed,” Thomas said. “You can see a fire like that for miles.”
“You have another suggestion?”
Thomas thought about it, but couldn’t come up with anything.
“Right,” said George, before Henry could say anything else. “My turn.”
George left the shelter of the barn wall and moved quickly across the yard. He passed through the shadow of the chapel and reached the house in absolute silence, disappearing around the side as the three watched.
Thomas kept his eyes roving over the yard, watching for any signs of life. There were none, but the house itself exuded a faint glow. It wasn’t the bright light that surrounded people, or the deep green of the forest. It was as if long years of use had left their impression on the building, giving it a life of its own. Thomas turned his eyes towards the stone chapel, and saw light coming from there as well. It was faint, but what he could see glowed red. Thomas wished that he knew enough to interpret the colours.
Henry touched his shoulder. Thomas looked. George was standing at the far side of the house, waving at them to come forward. Thomas left his thoughts behind and followed Henry and Eileen across the yard. George, a finger across his lips, pointed with his other hand to an open window on the second floor, some fifteen feet above the ground. Thomas made sure no one else was in the
yard, then dared to whisper, “How are we going to get in there?”
“Like the wall of the Academy,” said George.
“I should do it,” volunteered Eileen. “I’m lighter.”
Henry shook his head. “Not tall enough. I’ll do it.”
“I’ll do it,” countered Thomas, taking off his sword belt. “I’m lighter.”
He handed Henry his sword and stepped into George’s cupped hands, then up onto his friend’s shoulders. He was still a good three feet away from the window, and even with his arms outstretched couldn’t reach the sill. He started to curse under his breath and was readying himself to come back down when he felt George’s hands wrap themselves around his heels. He realized what George was planning to do just as the big man straightened his arms, lifting Thomas high into the air. Thomas grabbed at the window as much for his balance as anything else. He levered himself up and got a leg over the sill as quietly as he could. There was no one inside, fortunately. Below, Henry hissed to get Thomas’s attention and then tossed up his sword. Thomas caught it and slipped inside.
He was in a servants’ room; narrow and plain, with beds for six. All had blankets on them, and saddlebags hung off the footboards. The soldiers, Thomas guessed. He waved his friends to the front of the house and crossed the room. The door squeaked as it opened, making Thomas wince. A quick peek showed nothing but empty hallway. He went down it as quietly as he could. He passed several other rooms, but there was neither sound nor sight of anyone.
He found the stairs and went quickly down them, ending up in the kitchen. He moved on, through a dining room and a parlour. He couldn’t see the front door anywhere. Thomas took a moment to wish the bishop had chosen a less ostentatious dwelling, then moved on. A door led to a hallway that moved at right angles from where he thought he wanted to go. He followed it anyway, guessing rightly that it would lead to another. That one was wide and clean and went in a straight line towards the foyer and front door. He went as fast as he could, passing several closed doors and a set of wide, carpeted stairs before reaching the entrance-way.
He drew back the bolts on the door, opened it a crack, and peered into the night. The yard was empty. He looked to the side of the house, spotted George, and waved him forward. The big man came in quickly, the other two following close behind.
“This place is huge,” Thomas whispered, locking the door behind them. “There’s no way we’re going to search it all.”
“So where would he keep his books?” asked Henry, his voice just as quiet.
“His bedroom,” guessed Eileen.
“Or his study,” said Thomas.
“Bedroom and study would both be upstairs,” Henry said.
“Then it’s upstairs we go,” said Thomas. “Follow me, and no more talking.”
He led them back down the hallway, to the wide, carpeted stairs. Up they went, moving as quietly as they could and wincing at every squeak of the stairs or sound of their boots. Nothing in the house moved save themselves. Thomas could feel his heart pounding with every step up. All it would take was one guard at the top of the stairs to shout the alarm and give them away.
There was no one. At the top of the stairs a long, straight hallway stretched out to either side, going the width of the building and lit only by the moonlight that spilled through the window at either end. Thomas, his vision still better than the others’, could make out nothing more than dim shapes. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was no life in the hallway save himself and his friends.
George stepped up beside Thomas, touching him on the shoulder. Thomas watched his friend mime opening doors, then pointing to one side of the hall. Thomas understood and nodded. George tapped Henry on his shoulder and led him to one side of the hallway. Thomas and Eileen took the other. Thomas went down the length of the hallway, listening at each door first, then opening them and looking in. Every time he reached for the handle on the door he wondered if he was going to end up facing the bishop, and what he could do if he did.
All Thomas found were empty rooms.
He growled in silent frustration and waited for George to join them. George shook his head and shrugged. Annoyed, Thomas retraced his steps and started down the other part of the hall.
Halfway down, George found another, much shorter, hallway leading to a large, ornate door. Thomas tried it, found it unlocked. He silently thanked the Four and opened it. On the other side was a sumptuous sitting room, filled with what looked to be well-appointed furnishings, though the dark made it difficult to see for certain. There was a set of large double doors on one wall, and a smaller, single door on the other. Thomas pointed George and Henry to the smaller door and led Eileen to the other.
Thomas put his ears against the doors and listened intently. He heard nothing. These doors, too, were unlocked. Holding his breath, he opened the door a crack and listened again. Silence. He opened it further and peeked in. The room was huge, the bed in the middle was hung with heavy curtains, all closed. The moonlight streaming through the window gave everything a silvery hue, and turned all the colours in the room to shades of grey.
Thomas looked behind him. George and Henry had opened the other door and were going inside. Thomas gestured at Eileen to stay where she was, then stepped into the room. Nothing within caught his eye; no life energy or magic glowed. His eyes were drawn to the thick, heavy curtains that surrounded the bed. It would be, he was certain, the worst of all possible outcomes if the bishop was sleeping on the other side of them.
Thomas drew his sword and began to advance on the bed. Behind him came a sharp intake of breath as Eileen realized what he was doing.