Small Magics Read Online Free PDF

what you waste your time on?”
    “Waste?” Thomas was appalled. “It’s not a waste!”
    “It is a waste,” John Flarety repeated. “It is a waste of your time and of my money.”
    Thomas’s legs felt weak, like he’d been standing in the ocean, fighting the tide. Something was wrong. He tried again. “Father, you sent me to learn.”
    “I sent you to be educated,” corrected his father. “I did not send you to waste your time studying philosophy—”
    “I don’t just study—”
    “And I certainly didn’t send you to spend your money on swords!”
    Thomas looked down to the blade at his side. “Is that what this is about? This?” He grasped the scabbard and raised the sword up. “I wrote about this. I won it at a fencing tournament. It didn’t cost a thing.”
    “And who gave you permission to study fencing?”
    “Everyone at the Academy studies fencing.”
    “We do not. We are merchants. Not soldiers, not ruffians, and not fops.” Thomas’s father started pacing the width of the room. “I should never have sent you there. The city is a corrupt place, filled with corrupt people. You were sent to develop your mind and to learn a trade, not to study swordplay and become a ruffian.”
    “I’m not becoming a ruffian—”
    “I will deal with your behaviour later,” said John, ignoring Thomas’s words entirely. “Now, we must solve the problem of what you shall wear in this house.”
    “I have clothes in—”
    “Silence!” The word thundered through the room. “Return to the village. The tailor will be open for several hours yet, and will measure you for clothes appropriate to your station. Tell him you will need them for tomorrow night.”
    John picked up the purse from where Thomas had placed it on the desk. He opened it and eyed the contents a moment, then tossed it back to Thomas. “This should more than cover the cost of the clothes. Use the rest to buy your supper. I expect that the tailor will keep you long enough that you will not join us for dinner.”
    Thomas stood where he was, mouth open, staring at his father. John Flarety frowned. “Well, boy?”
    Thomas, stunned, could only say, “I’ll do as you wish.”
    “And use the side entrance. I’ll not have our guests seeing my son like this.”
    “No.” Thomas shouldered his bag and stumbled to the door. “No, of course not.”

Chapter 2
    What, in the names of the Four, is going on here?
    Thomas had stumbled down the back stairs and out of the house without seeing anyone, which was just as well. He wasn’t sure he could manage to be civil if he did. Now, brooding his way down the road back to the village, Thomas tried to make sense of what had just happened.
    There had been nothing in his father’s letters to suggest a greeting like this. The man had practically begged him to come home. He had been full of praise for Thomas’s success, as well he should be. Thomas had gotten top marks in all his classes. The reviews from his professors had all been glowing, and Thomas had sent them all home. It was exactly what his father had wanted from him.
    True, he had walked when he had the money to ride and he was wearing a sword, but those should have been the subject of a little good-natured scolding. Instead, his father had treated him like a servant caught stealing money.
    It doesn’t make any sense.
    Certainly he was not dressed appropriately for guests, but he had better clothes in his bag. A bath and a shave for him and a quick press for the clothes and he would have been more than prepared to greet the guests. As it was, the clothes were still in his bag, the bag was still on his shoulder, and a bath was nowhere to be found.
    His mind kept going in circles all the way to the village. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t written. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t told them how he was living. His family probably knew more about his life than his friends at the Academy. He had described nearly everything that was fit to share,