A Hidden Gem

Although he managed to catch more sleep, Martel still found it hard to concentrate next morning. Fortunately, his morning lessons in theory of magic were always interesting; as they did not involve practical magic, they were also less demanding.

Today, Master Fenrick had brought a wand to class. He had done so earlier, the same one, from what Martel could tell. Wood entwined with silver thread and a small gem sitting at the tip. "When I last showed this to you, I remarked upon the silver and how it amplifies magic. But I did not speak of this." The teacher touched the precious stone embedded into the wood. "A sapphire. It makes the wand particularly suited for water magic, hence why it is used by weathermages. Anyone care to guess who might make use of a ruby?"

One of the novices raised her hand. "Battlemages."

"Correct. And diamonds for windmages working the air, and emeralds for stonemages working the earth. Each of the elements is attuned to a particular gemstone," their teacher explained.

Martel raised his hand. "Are there other kinds of gems that affect other kinds of magic?"

Master Fenrick nodded. "Yes, in theory. The Archeans used topaz, a yellow stone, to help with magic of the mind such as illusions. Maleficars use onyx or malachite, but the less said about them, the better." He raised the wand in his hand. "Do well in your studies, and a wand like this will be yours when you complete your education."

~

After supper, Martel trod the familiar path south-west. Like yesterday, he did not intend to stay long; getting a full night's sleep had done him a lot of good, but not enough given that he still felt tired this morning, so he aimed for another. At this point, the children had learned how to handle superficial injuries and how to make use of the herbs he had left them. He mostly went to check on their progress, just in case any of the children did not seem to improve. If so, Martel would have to make a note of all their symptoms and ask the nurses in the infirmary for guidance.

Reaching the slums, he took a slightly different road than usual for the remainder of the journey. He was not keen to have another run-in with the greasy fellow from yesterday. Experiencing no trouble, Martel reached the house.

As usual, the children crowded around Martel, eager to explain how they had followed his instructions or show off their scrapes and bruises. Enjoying their exuberance, Martel sat down and did some quick examinations, usually confirming that their healing progressed nicely.

"Hey, Sparrow. Let's get a new bandage on you."

"If the coughing still troubles you, Squirrel, take the lungwort tea three times a day instead of two. I'll bring some more with me tomorrow, so don't worry about using it up, all right?"

"Yes, Badger, your bruise does look like a bell, but it doesn't need ointment. It's almost healed now, anyway."

When he had finished with all the questions, Martel performed a few spells, much to their delight. After pulling flames out of the ears and tickling their noses with air, he went home.

~

Last bell had yet to strike, signalling the hours by which all decent folk should be going home; tonight, Martel would be among their number. He walked up the broad avenue that went from the market district to coil itself like a snake around the Lyceum before continuing east and north. Ahead, he saw the castle with its open doors welcoming him as always.

Passing through the entrance hall, Martel heard a voice call out to him. Turning to look, he saw Eleanor approach, which made him frown. "Were you waiting for me?" He glanced around the otherwise empty hall.

"Do not flatter yourself. I was in the library and saw you coming up the street, through the window."

They had not spoken for the fiveday or longer; not since he confronted her about her alchemy. As they had no classes together anymore, they would only talk if one person sought the other out, and Martel had not felt confident enough to do that. Now he wondered what had made Eleanor do it. "Well, you caught me."

"I did, and I have noticed how both you and Maximilian snuck off after meals. What are you up to?"

"I haven't spoken to Maximilian in a couple of fivedays," Martel replied confused. Not since the mageknight had behaved poorly towards him in the common room. Not to mention, Martel had barely had any spare time lately.

"Oh, I see. I thought – maybe you were in trouble of some kind."

Martel could not help but smile. "Eleanor Fontaine, were you planning to come to my rescue?"

She almost looked bashful as she glanced away. "You were right about the potion. It was reckless of me. I just badly wanted to believe it could work, and I needed someone to remind me of what I knew deep down. I thought, if you were in a similar situation now, it was my turn to remind you."

"No, everything is fine."

"Alright then." She began to move past him, towards her dormitory tower.

"I opened an apothecary in the copper lanes," it burst from Martel. He did not know why he felt the urge to tell her; it came from reasons deeper than he could or cared to examine. "Well, not a real one," he hurried to elaborate. "I'm not charging anyone. And my only patients are a bunch of children. But that's where I've been going every night for the last fiveday or so."

She gave a little smile. "That does seem like something you would do."

"What – would you like to see it? I'm going there tomorrow night. I think the children would be excited to meet someone like you." Meeting not one, but two mages would make their tiny hearts burst, he expected. And a small part of him was happy for others to see that he had an accomplished and graceful friend such as Eleanor.

She stood quiet for a moment. "Why not?" she finally said. "It sounds like a novel experience."

~

With a touch of moonlight coming through the cracks of the roof, Weasel sat by a table and counted coins. All pennies except one, a little bigger and reflecting the same colour as the moonlight. Grabbing the silver piece, Weasel opened the seam of his trousers, placed the coin inside, and tied it back together.

"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked, looking at the pennies in front of him rather than anybody else.

"It aches," Sparrow replied, rubbing her new bandage.

"Touching it will only make it worse," Weasel chastised her as he finally glanced towards the stairs to look at the small girl. "How's your movement?"

"It's fine. Hasn't changed."

"Your – skill with open locks?"

Sparrow shrugged. "I can do that with either hand anyway."

"Good. I have a mark for us tomorrow night," Weasel told her.

"Alright. When I come back from the harbour, we can go," the small girl declared.

"Good. Get some sleep. Go on, go to bed."

Slumping her shoulders, Sparrow walked back up the stairs.