A Cake to Cry on

Wiser from experience, if only a little, Martel did not stay out late with Maximilian. At an almost decent time, they returned to the Lyceum, one of them singing songs that seemed incongruent with his refined upbringing. Lacking the courage to correct Maximilian on his misplaced confidence as a minstrel, Martel was happy to bid him good night and get some sleep.

With his life returned to a state of normality, Martel attended to his usual Solday tasks. In fact, a tiny part of him almost regretted the fact that his sojourns to the slums had come to an end. Besides being rewarding work, it had kept him focused. His morning work in the apothecary had prepared him for helping the children, and labouring for Master Jerome in the afternoon had provided the coin for it.

He could still work a few bells in the workshops, of course, and one might think that since he would now keep all his silver, he would be even more motivated. But Martel felt the opposite. With no urgent need for money, he saw no reason to spend the afternoons like he spent the mornings. For once, he would enjoy having time to spare.

As if fate agreed with his decision, Martel found a note waiting for him at the entrance hall. It had not arrived by Imperial post, but rather been delivered to the Lyceum directly. Recognising the handwriting, he quickly unfurled the message to find an invitation from Shadi to join her this afternoon.

~

Strolling along, Martel crossed the market district, moving from one square to the next. In the height of summer, it was a warm afternoon, and plenty of people had their own errands in town. He still felt a bit wary of crowds, but nothing around him suggested anything other than a busy day at the market.

He only became apprehensive as he approached one of the streets linking the larger, open areas. Seated against a wall, a man sat of indeterminable age, with dirty long hair and a wild beard. A crutch rested against the wall next to him, and he wore a tattered surcoat of the legions. The man caught Martel's eye, and the novice quickly looked away and moved forward to hurry past.

A hand shot out in front of him from the beggar on the ground. "Spare a coin for a veteran, good master? A Khivan cannon took my leg, Sol curse the bastards."

Already anxious, Martel became befuddled at the request. He had been ready for some kind of trick or attack, just like his last experience with the discarded legionaries that could be seen on many of Morcaster's streets these days. He glanced down to find that the man indeed missed his leg below the knee. Not knowing what else to do, Martel fumbled in his pocket until he could withdraw a copper coin and placed it in the beggar's hand, before he hastened onwards.

~

Shadi waited for him at their usual spot. She smiled and gave a little wave as he approached. They had not met or spoken since the disturbing events on that day, and he was relieved to find that she looked and seemed her usual self.

"Hey."

"Hey you. Any place you want to go?" Shadi asked. "I didn't bring any money."

"I did, for once." Martel took out four pennies, all that remained of his payment from Mistress Rana. "How about a pair of sweetcakes?"

She smiled. "That sounds great." They set into motion towards their favourite baker.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited you," he said. "I have not really had an hour to myself for a while now."

"It's fine. It took a while for things to calm down, anyway."

"How are things now?"

She shrugged. "Nothing has happened since – that day. But people are tense. Few leave the quarter, and outsiders don't enter."

"I'm glad if things are quiet now. It's right where you live, after all."

"Yeah, I guess we do for now, anyway."

"What, you're thinking of leaving the neighbourhood?"

A guilty look flashed across her face. "Oh. I shouldn't have mentioned that. Yeah, we might."

Although the scent of freshly baked bread and other delicacies lured Martel forward, he stopped nonetheless. "What's going on?"

To Martel's surprise, Shadi's lips quivered before she spoke. "Our landlord keeps raising our rent. It takes dad a long time to finish a commission, so he doesn't get paid often. We've only just managed this month, and even if we barely eat, we can't scrape together fifty pieces of silver for next month."

"That's terrible!" Martel knew what hunger felt like, but he had never experienced the fear of losing his home.

"I tried to find some work where I can, but inside the quarter, there's barely any shops or trade going on, and outside, nobody wants to hire a Khivan. Even if they don't have anything against me, they're afraid of how others will treat them if they hire me." A few tears threatened to escape from her eyes. "Dad needs a lot of space for his work, so if we get kicked out, he doesn't think we can find anywhere else that'll do. He's talked about selling his tools and taking us back to Khiva, to some distant family."

Martel stood, overwhelmed both by the information and this sudden threat that she might never see Shadi again. Having no clue what to say, he simply hugged her.

It took a little while before she pulled back. "Sorry. I didn't mean for it all to spill out. I'm sure we'll think of something." She turned away from him a little, discreetly drying her eyes.

"Well, first things first." He stepped over to the baker's stall and exchanged coppers for cakes. Returning, he placed one in her hand.

"Thanks. Tell me, what sort of magical misadventures have kept you so busy?" She asked, taking a bite.

He took a deep breath. "As it turns out, I've been running an unlicensed apothecary in the copper lanes."