Small Magics by Erik Buchanan Page B

back and half-sat, half-fell on the ground. “It’s noisy and smelly and the sewers back up when it rains and there’s people who wouldn’t give food to a starving man, but I like it. I like getting up in the morning and buying bread from the baker and fruit from the fruit sellers and sitting by the dirty river looking at the towers of the church and watching the people go by.”
    He looked out across the water of the pond and in his mind saw the city on the other side. “There’s times, when it’s been raining all day. The sun breaks through the clouds just before it goes down. Everything has been washed clean by the rain and then the sun hits it and all the grey buildings and all the dirty streets are suddenly paved in light and gold.” He remembered, then, standing on the roof of his apartment, looking out. “The palace is roofed in bronze, and so are the High Father’s church and the city hall. And when the sun comes out it hits them one at a time, lighting them like fire. And they stay that way until the sun goes down and they fade like embers.” He blinked and the city faded, leaving the dark mill pond before him. Thomas shook his head. “I talk too much when I’m drunk.”
    “Aye, you do,” agreed George. “You make it sound good, though.”
    “It is,” said Thomas. No matter what my father says about it.
    “I’d like to visit,” Eileen said, her voice quieter than before.
    George snorted. “Aye, I know. Every time Thomas’s father starts talking about it, you start going on about how you want to visit.” He waved a hand at her.
    “You just want to sneak into that Academy of his.”
    Thomas shook his head. “They wouldn’t let you in.”
    “I know,” said Eileen. “Girls aren’t allowed to learn anything.”
    Thomas heard the bitterness in her voice. “The Academy really isn’t that much to look at, you know,” he said, trying to lighten her mood. “Half the rooms haven’t been repainted in two hundred years and the other half they don’t let students into anyway.”
    “What about the library?” asked Eileen. “It is really as big as your father says?”
    “I don’t know how big he says it is,” said Thomas. “It’s five stories tall, and has thousands of books in it. The main floor is all tables for people to sit and read and columns to hold up the rest of the place and windows so you can see. In the afternoon, you can spend an hour just watching the dust dancing on the air.”
    Eileen’s voice was wistful. “Sounds wonderful.”
    “To you,” snorted George. “Me, I don’t think I could stand it there.”
    “Not much for reading?” Thomas asked.
    “Nor for writing,” said Eileen. “He wouldn’t have learned either if Da hadn’t made him.”
    “Unlike her,” snorted George. “Ever since the nuns taught her to read, she’s had her nose in whatever books she could borrow.”
    “The only one I have with me is in Perthian,” said Thomas. “Next time I come back, I’ll bring some histories. You’d like them.”
    “What’s that?” said George, pointing into the woods.
    Thomas turned to look and saw a thin flicker of light moving far off in the trees. “I don’t know.”
    Eileen stood up to see. “Looks like a torch.”
    “Shouldn’t be,” said George. “There’s nothing over there. Besides, everyone should be inside asleep, saving their energy for the Fire tomorrow night.”
    “Shush,” said Thomas. “Listen.”
    George cocked his head. “I don’t hear…” He stopped. The woods had fallen silent. All the night creatures had stopped their noises and everything was still, as if holding its breath. A moment later, Thomas caught a shout, faint and distant, then another. He pushed himself to his feet. “Come on.”
    “Not that way,” said George, catching his arm. “There’s a path on the other side of the pond.”
    The three slipped into the woods with George soundlessly leading them. Thomas was aware for the first time how much noise he