Cold Magics by Erik Buchanan Page A

from the king and the things we’ll need from the merchants.”
    He left, Lawrence and Cavish following in his wake. Michael approached Thomas while the others headed out the door. “Lord Henry showed me your apartments yesterday morning. I’ll meet you there after the noon bell.”
    “Thank you,” said Thomas. The man bowed slightly, then left. Thomas looked to Eileen. “Did you want to come with me?”
    “No,” said Eileen. “But there’s nothing else to do and I’m not going to sit here.”
    Thomas sighed. “Are you going to be like this all day?”
    “Like what?”
    Thomas felt his jaw tighten, but it wasn’t worth the argument. “Let’s go.”
    The street outside was busy. Well-dressed men—lawyers, for the most part, to judge by their clothes—moved purposely to or from their appointments in the palace environs. Across the street, a group of merchants stood talking to one another, rubbing their hands together to keep warm. The air was brisk, and once more Thomas regretted not owning a warmer cloak. Eileen’s clothes were lighter, and her cloak hardly warm at all. After a block, Thomas put his cloak over her shoulders, doing his best to ignore the chill that sank through his thin coat. Eileen nearly pushed it off, but Thomas held it on her shoulders. “It’s too cold to fight about it here,” he said. “Come on.”
    Eileen glared at him again, but wrapped the cloak around herself and followed him from the clean-swept area around the residence, through busy streets of merchants and tradesmen, and through the poorer residential neighbourhoods inside the walls. The streets had garbage in them and beggars sat on the road calling for coins. Men and women moved about quickly, shivering as they made their way to their work and moving reluctantly aside for the occasional carriage or horseman. The buildings were crowded close together, and one had to step carefully to avoid the sewers. They reached the student quarter in a half hour of brisk walking.
    “Where to now?” Eileen asked.
    “There’s a bindery nearby,” said Thomas. “I need to find a good, thick journal to use on the trip.”
    “For your—” Eileen stopped herself, “for your writings?”
    Thomas smiled. “Aye, for them. I’ll take the four I’ve got, but I’ll need another one to condense down what’s useful from the other books.” He looked around, orienting himself. “This way.”
    “Will it be warm there?” Eileen asked, wrapping her arms around her body.
    “I hope so,” said Thomas, who had been working very hard at not feeling the cold. “We should get you a proper winter coat.”
    “I don’t have any money,” said Eileen.
    “I do,” said Thomas. “I’ll get some out of the Academy bank this afternoon. We’ll find something you can wear all winter.”
    “Why? It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” she said, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “I’m not going to be allowed out of the house.”
    Thomas forbore mentioning that it was all her own fault, and led Eileen down a set of winding streets mostly lined with houses. He found the bindery, set in a dead-end residential street near the Academy. Most of the stock was cheap journals and notebooks for students. The shopkeeper was a quiet man who listened to what Thomas wanted, then came out with a thick journal, bound in leather with a brass buckle to hold it closed.
    “Perfect,” said Thomas, buying it along with a set of quills and several pots of ink. He thanked the shopkeeper and led Eileen back out. They passed a group of merchants, standing together and talking quietly. Thomas thought it was odd to see merchants in that neighbourhood, but didn’t think any more about it until he and Eileen were out onto the main thoroughfare once more.
    “Those men,” said Eileen in a low voice. “They followed us.”
    “What?” Thomas looked back over his shoulder. The men were ten yards behind, walking slowly after them.
    “The one in the brown cloak