Small Magics Read Online Free PDF Page A

that Thomas recognized at once. John Flarety was angry.
    “I see what you meant about him,” said Thomas, putting his bag down. He smiled and started coming around the desk, his arms out. “It’s good to see you, Da.”
    “I assumed that you knew I would have guests today.”
    John Flarety’s chill tone made Thomas freeze in place. His father glared at him, waiting for an answer. Thomas pulled himself together enough to say, “I only learned when I arrived, Father.”
    “Guests who expect that I maintain my house with decorum, that I clothe my children properly, and that I have raised them not to be hooligans.” John Flarety leaned forward in his chair. “Guests like the bishop.”
    It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did, Thomas was stunned. “He’s our guest? I remember you said he would be in town—”
    “Yes. Our houseguest, not the nunnery’s.” John slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving Thomas’s. “Do you know how important that is to our family?”
    Considering that the nunnery owned the land that Elmvale sat on, and that the abbess was in fact the true authority of the county, it was very important indeed. Thomas nodded. “Aye, it’s amazing—”
    “And this ,” John Flarety’s hand cut the air, taking in Thomas’s ragged state in a single wave, “ This is his first impression of my youngest son! A young bravo who comes to my house, carrying a sword of all things, and looking as if he has stumbled on foot down the road from the Academy!” He glared at his son. “How did you get here, Thomas?”
    Thomas braced himself, “I walked.”
    His father’s face turned darker red. “There are a dozen boats going up and down the river every week, could you not have taken one?”
    “I could have,” said Thomas. He reached into his bag, pulled out a small purse, and put it on the table. “I thought I’d save the money you sent instead.”
    “Save the money?” John Flarety’s hand came down hard on the desk, making Thomas jump. “What about the money that I’ve been sending you every month? Where did you spend it all, that you come home looking like this? Fifteen silver pieces a month should have been more than sufficient to keep you in a manner fitting the son of one of the wealthiest trading houses in this part of the country!”
    Thomas had no idea what his father wanted him to say. “The Academy is expensive, Father—”
    “I dare say it is, if you spend your time brawling rather than studying. Tell me, how much of that money went to settle gambling debts? How much for wine? How much for keeping you out of jail?”
    Thomas felt as though he’d been hit, hard, in the pit of the stomach. He stared at his father, unable to speak.
    “Well?” John Flarety demanded.
    “I do not brawl,” said Thomas, keeping his words slow and even. “I have drunk wine and I have gambled, but not enough to bring disgrace on myself or this house.”
    “Then where is the money?” John Flarety’s hand hit the desk again. “What have you spent it on?”
    “Books!” Thomas nearly shouted the word. With an effort he contained himself and started again. “There are so many books, Father. Most nights I can hardly sleep for reading. I feed off books the way my body feeds off food. Dr. Fauster—he teaches philosophy—talks about books written over a thousand years ago that have just now been rediscovered. And new books are being written all the time: commentaries on the old philosophies, writings about new philosophies.” Thomas could hear himself speeding up in his excitement. He picked up his bag and dug into it, coming up with two battered, leather-bound books, each only slightly bigger than his hand. “Look at these, Father. The first is a dictionary, translating the language of ancient Perthia. The second is a book of Perthian philosophy in the original language, with space in it for a student to write a translation.”
    His father didn’t even look at the books. “This is