Cursed Lessons

Martel wondered if Master Fenrick would show for his classes as Manday arrived; rumour around the castle claimed that the teacher was investigating the appearance of the maleficar, and Martel had not seen much of him during the meals. But as he entered the classroom this morning, he found the man observing his students behind his heavy spectacles as always.

Martel doubted that Master Fenrick would say much about the recent events, especially with the younger novices present, but it was worth a try. "Master, have the inquisitors made any strides in finding the maleficar?"

"If they have, they are not inclined to share such knowledge with the faculty of the Lyceum."

That suggested Master Fenrick was working on his own, if indeed he had made any investigation into the matter. Rumour, as Martel had learned from all this, was not necessarily reliable.

"Besides, by all accounts, this is a petty sorcerer accomplishing little, however gruesome their deeds. I imagine by next fiveday, we have all forgotten this affair. Therefore, let us return to our own lesson, even though I admit the subject matter is a bit too familiar, perhaps." The teacher cleared his throat. "I have told you of leechcraft and necromancy. One of the final areas of maleficus deals with curses."

Martel did not really wish to pay attention, as he did not want to know more about this. Besides being an uncomfortable topic, it seemed like the sort of knowledge that would only attract the inquisitors' attention; yet it was part of the lesson, so he forced himself to listen.

"From what we know, casting a curse involved some of the most complex magic known to the Archean wizards. While that fortunately no longer takes place in the Asterian Empire, it is still useful for you to learn of this for two reasons. The first is that curses do not expire. If cast upon an object rather than a living being, the curse may linger indefinitely and inflict itself upon any touching or using said object."

Martel felt a chill down his spine at the thought. Before coming to Morcaster, magic had always seemed exciting and amazing to him, full of possibility and wonder. It troubled him to learn of all the ways it could be abused towards malicious ends; it was even worse to consider that such abuse was why the inquisitors hounded him in their search for maleficars.

"The other reason is that curses, at least how we would understand them, are still used by the seiðr-wives of Tyria. The witches of the North, as we call them, have such powers at their disposal, which they may use for better or worse."

The last sentence made Martel frown. He thought about Master Alastair's tale of a Tyrian band pursuing a werewolf, and he could not see how a curse might be beneficial. "How can it be used for good?"

"That depends on your perspective. To us, it may all seem horrible. But the witches have at times decided that certain crimes are so heinous, only a dreadful curse would be suitable punishment." Master Fenrick's voice sounded cold, almost cruel, as if mimicking the women of whom he spoke. "Often, the effects of such a spell diminishes the senses of the victim, making them mute or deaf, and deprives them of the ability to enjoy food and drink. Or in the case of shape changers, it may turn an ordinary man into a terrible weapon to be wielded against their enemies. But we shall leave that particular thought for another time."

~

Knocking on the door to the overseer's chamber, Alastair barely waited for permission before he entered. "You happen to have any vintage you're sampling?" he asked.

Juliana had begun tying up her hair but let it fall once she recognised her visitor, and she nodded at a bottle on a shelf next to some cups. "Help yourself. What is the matter?"

He walked over to pour twice. "It concerns Martel. Inquisitors have been after him, both yesterday at the market and today, here at the castle." He handed one cup to her.

"You do not think he is involved in this grisly affair in the copper lanes, do you?"

He took a heavy sip. "No, that would be preposterous. The first rumours began long before he even came to Morcaster. No, what bothers me is that they showed up to interrogate him in his room."

She frowned, drinking from her wine. "What troubles you about it?"

"The boy is busy most of the day with chores or lessons. They did not come for him during a meal, where he could be found easily in the dining hall, but also where you or I might notice and demand to be present. They knew where to find his room and when he might be there." He stared at her over the edge of his cup before he drank what remained.

Juliana took a deep breath, forehead wrinkled in thought. "You think someone pointed them in Martel's direction."

He nodded. "I think someone is hoping to cause enough stir that dismissing him from the Lyceum will be easier. His novice's examination is in two months."

"I have considered that. I will invite his teachers to the examination. Plenty of witnesses, who will agree that the boy deserves to finish his studies. As for the inquisitors, they have gone too far. I shall make a complaint to their office, using my connections at the High Council. Make them leave the boy alone." She emptied her wine as well.

"I will tell the lad to stay at the school for now, just as a precaution. Give them no excuses to follow him around."

She exhaled. "Very well. It is madness that they would investigate anyone at the Lyceum. As if we would harbour a maleficar, or any of our students would even have such knowledge."

"Make sure to mention that in your complaint."

She gave half a smile. "Maybe using more diplomatic terms. What do you think of the wine?"

He shrugged. "I could certainly go for a second round."