Small Magics Read Online Free Page B

merchant and a good man. If he says that the price he is offering is the best he can give, then that is the truth.”
    “I think you can do better, John Flarety,” said the bishop. “I think the price can come down a little more, don’t you?”
    Thomas started. The motion caught Bishop Malloy’s eye. He turned, and for a second Thomas thought he saw fear, then excitement in the bishop’s face. Both vanished, and the man’s voice sounded perfectly normal when he said, “Is there something the matter, young Thomas?”
    “Your voice…” Thomas stopped, not sure how to explain it, or if he really wanted to do so.
    The bishop schooled his features and waited. When Thomas didn’t say anything more, he repeated. “My voice? What about my voice?”
    “It was…” Thomas couldn’t find words, and the bishop was staring at him. “I don’t know.”
    Bishop Malloy moved closer to Thomas. “Do you not like my tone?”
    “No, your Grace, I just…”
    “You just what?” The bishop was too close now. “Did you hear something unusual?”
    Thomas felt the sudden urge to back away, and forced himself to stay where he was. “I just… I’m very tired from the road.”
    The bishop stopped moving for a moment, then took a step back. “Indeed.” The bishop’s expression was smooth again, his tone unreadable. He held out his ring. “Why don’t you wait outside the door until your father and I are done talking?”
    Thomas looked to his father. The man nodded, shortly and abruptly. Thomas nodded back, then bent and kissed the ring. “Yes, your Grace.”
    He backed out, keeping his eyes on the bishop until he had pulled the door shut behind him. The silence of the hallway was a relief. Thomas leaned against the wall, willing the tension out of his body.
    What did I hear? Thomas wasn’t sure. It sounded as if the bishop’s voice had dropped an octave and doubled in volume, though Thomas was sure neither of those things had happened. But something had. The bishop knew how to use his voice, certainly, but training couldn’t account for the sudden surge of power Thomas had felt coming from the man.
    Maybe I’m just tired, Thomas thought, automatically adjusting the bag on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. He thought better of it a moment later and let the bag fall to the floor. He was home, after all. He didn’t need to keep carrying it.
    The conversation in the study went on for some time. Thomas tried to listen, but the heavy wood of the door muffled the words. His father spoke only occasionally, while the bishop went on at length. Thomas was half-tempted to put his ear to the door and listen, but the thought of getting caught was too mortifying. He stayed where he was, waiting.
    At last the bell attached to the pull-cord in his father’s study rang twice, sharp and demanding. The study door opened a moment later and John Flarety stepped out. He glanced at his son briefly then turned to look down the hall. Almost immediately, Brian was there, coming up the stairs at a trot.
    “The bishop wishes to speak with his men,” said John Flarety. “Escort him to them.”
    The bishop stepped into the hallway, pausing to nod at Thomas. “We shall see you later, Thomas Flarety.”
    “I look forward to it, your Grace,” lied Thomas, bowing low. Privately, he was wondering if there was any way to avoid the man entirely for the rest of his stay. Thomas doubted it. He sighed silently and straightened up.
    The bishop was already walking away, and Randolf had taken his place. His eyes bored into Thomas, though he was smiling politely. Thomas returned the stare, feeling uncomfortably like a mouse before a large cat. Randolf inclined his head in a motion that felt far less respectful than it looked, then broke contact and turned away, following his master down the hall.
    Thomas watched the two go, then picked up his bag and stepped into the office. His father was already sitting behind his desk, his face a shade of red