Small Magics by Erik Buchanan Read Free Book Online Page B

for my twelfth birthday? He couldn’t think up a lie good enough to keep me distracted for half a day.” “I don’t understand, Master Thomas,” said the tailor, looking the very picture of mild consternation. “He never stops boasting about you.” Thomas shook his head again. “I don’t understand, either.”
    ***
    The tailor measured Thomas thoroughly, cut the rich blue fabric John Flarety had chosen, and draped it on Thomas. Around a mouth full of pins, he promised that he and his assistants would work through the night. The suit would be ready for fitting the next morning, and done the next night, just as John Flarety had asked. Thomas thanked him and stood, dazed, as the fabric was pinned, marked, and taken away.
    Thomas’s head was spinning as they went to the cobbler’s shop. The cobbler was as accommodating as the tailor. The leather had been selected and dyed, all it needed was to be cut and pieced together. The cobbler measured out Thomas’s feet and promised him boots done by the next evening.
    By the time Thomas was seated in the pub, his mind felt like a ship rolling in a high sea. Eileen and George let him alone, ordering their drinks and his, and talking to each other as he sat staring into space, his mind foundering in the events of the day.
    His father was angry. His father was proud. The bishop said Thomas was a rogue and Thomas’s father agreed. Timothy created a ball of light from nothing. His father thought Thomas was wasting money at school but wanted him to spend more money to come home sooner. His father had spent even more money on a fine new suit and boots, but wouldn’t let his son sit at table with his guests. Timothy created a ball of light from nothing.
    Timothy created a ball of light from nothing.
    Too much education distracts a man from what’s important , Thomas thought, quoting the favourite excuse at the Academy for dragging students from their studies to the taverns. His father was acting very strangely, and all Thomas could focus on was Timothy’s trick. A dozen times he went through it in his head. It was not possible to make a ball of light, and certainly not to make one appear from thin air. Yet, he was certain that the juggler had done just that.
    And it was a ball of light, not a ball of wood.
    He knew that as sure as he knew he was breathing, and not just because he saw Timothy pull the wooden ball out of his jacket after the trick was over. Timothy could have had two, using the first ball for the trick, and then pulling the second one out for his finale, but that wasn’t what happened. Thomas had stared at the ball of light, and knew for certain what it was.
    Gavin sniffed right behind him.
    The sound, so familiar from years of childhood studies, yanked Thomas from his reverie. He found himself sitting up straight and paying attention out of sheer habit. Gavin was standing beside the table, looking down his nose at the three of them. His hands were clutched tightly at the edge of his cloak, raising it to keep the hem off the floor. He spared a brief nod to George and Eileen then turned to Thomas. His brows were drawn tight together, and his lips pursed. Thomas braced himself for the lecture that usually accompanied the expression. It didn’t come.
    “I have a message from your father,” Gavin said, instead. “You are to use the money he gave you to pay for the cost of your room.”
    “My room?” Thomas repeated. “Why do I need a room?”
    Gavin’s brows knitted further. “Your father thinks it best that you take a room for the night.”
    “What?” Thomas stared at Gavin until comprehension came, smashing into him like a wave. “WHAT?”
    Gavin stumbled backwards in surprise. Thomas realized that he was on his feet, his hands planted hard against the table. Everyone in the tavern was staring. He didn’t care. “Why?!”
    “He didn’t say, Master Thomas,” said Gavin. “Only that he requests that you come for dinner tomorrow night, and that you