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Martel woke feeling a little deflated. He had looked forward all fiveday to see Shadi, and his anticipation had only increased when he found out about the play. Now he felt separated from yet another important person in his life.

He did his work in the apothecary with a muted expression, following instructions from Mistress Rana as usual. "You are quiet," she remarked. "Good. I hope that means you are listening intently. Because with all the fools getting injured at these celebrations, we need more blood salve than I can be bothered to make."

It took him a moment to understand her meaning. "You will let me make some?"

"I will let you work with Nora to make some," she clarified. "But first under my careful supervision, of course. We cannot have you accidentally creating poison to rub into people's open wounds." Behind the alchemist's back, Nora winked at Martel.

~

Master Alastair watched as Martel strained himself to command the air. He did not have much success, finding it impossible to grab the intangible element with his magical reach. Try as he might, he could not conjure so much as a light breeze to disturb a single hair on his teacher's head. "I'm sorry, master."

"It's quite all right, my boy. You learn best by instinct. Unfortunately, it is hard to create the right situation in here that allows your magic to act purely on your immediate will." Master Alastair looked around the Hall of Elements. "Especially since, having gained control of the other elements, you will be less inclined to ever reach for air on instinct. So for now, let us keep trying with these exercises."

"Very well, master."

"There is something else…" Master Alastair scratched his neck. "I heard about your performances at not one, but two solstice celebrations among the nobles."

The way he spoke, it did not sound like a compliment in the making to Martel. "Yes?"

"Don't forget to be careful. Especially since your magic has a tendency to react before you can think. If your natural talent asserts itself in such a gathering, it cannot be explained away."

"I know, master. I didn't want to do it. It's hard to say no to these people."

"That it is." Master Alastair gave him half a smile. "For better or worse, your gifts are blossoming at a rapid rate. I doubt that the headmaster foresaw that."

"How do you mean?"

"Never mind. My point is, mages are rare. We may forget this, as we live in a place surrounded by wizards. But outside these walls, the gift of magic is exceedingly rare. It grants power, and those in power gravitate towards it. Either because they see its use – or they see it as a threat."

"I see."

Master Alastair smiled again, perhaps sensing that Martel did not in fact quite see his point. "Just be careful around these people."

"I will, master."

~

Martel's second lesson in elemental magic fared much as the first with air proving elusive as ever. When it came time for supper, he ate together with the elemental acolytes, though he contributed little to their conversation. There was simply too much he still did not know about. He had been at the Lyceum for six months whereas they had been at the school for several years. They spoke of teachers and students unknown to him, subjects he had yet to take, events he had not been present for. So he ate his soup in silence.

Martel thought about who it might be nice to spend time with. Putting his hand in his pocket, his fingers idly played with the rune token he always kept there, and the answer came to him. A mage like himself yet also without ties to the Lyceum, not native to Morcaster but with the same northern touch that caused suspicion among some. Someone who had treated him with friendship and understanding since they first met. He did not know what the pebble in his pocket was meant to do, but if nothing else, it reminded him of Regnar's intentions to keep him safe, not to mention their adventure together against the Tyrian berserker.

Leaving the school, Martel walked the familiar path towards the square hosting the temporary theatre. His mood slowly climbed upwards with each step, thinking about the other night of dancing and making merry with the actors. He thought about Regnar's offer to join them on the road, becoming a hedge mage of his own that used magic for entertainment. He did not seriously entertain the notion, but it was fun to imagine the travels and experiences they would have, presumably always with good company assured.

As he walked, his mind played with ideas for performing with magic. Fire was easy enough; he had already seen people juggling with flames or swallowing and breathing them. Given that he could conjure fire that barely burned, yet still shone brightly, Martel knew he could produce far more impressive spectacles than anyone else he had seen at the solstice festival. It might be harder to use the other elements; they did not look as flashy and dangerous as fire did, and his command of them was far worse.

Perhaps he could do something with water, making it flourish or create patterns that defied nature. Or if he practised earth, he might be able to create temporary sculptures of people for a good laugh. Smiling to himself at his ideas, Martel was so distracted that he barely noticed he had reached his destination. The square containing the theatre had plenty of people as usual, though they were scattered around the different stalls selling goods. He frowned; normally, they would be gathered around the stage in anticipation of the next performance.

Approaching, Martel saw no sign of the players preparing; the stage lay empty, devoid of both people and the different pieces of furniture and such used in the plays. Walking around, a curious sight met Martel. A few of the carts belonging to the travelling troupe stood without any contents. As for people or even just the draft animals, Martel could not find any signs.