Scouting for Talent

Martel left the Chamber of Earth with some fresh bruises and additional respect from the others present. Someone had brought skin salve, which helped with the former, and Martel went to sleep feeling satisfied with the evening. It was nice to feel for once that something had gone the right way. He slept well that night without a repeat of unpleasant dreams; waking up the next morning, he felt ready to face the day.

Shuttling into Father Andrews' classroom, Martel took his usual seat and looked expectantly at the old priest.

"We shall let history rest for now. See if we have time later for more lessons," the teacher said with his croaking voice. "Now, it is fundamental for any educated citizen of the Asterian Empire to have impeccable penmanship and a good grasp of language, including spelling. Get your pen and paper."

Grabbing those items, Martel sat ready.

"Write this down as I tell you." The priest cleared his throat. "Before life flourished in the world, it lay covered in the twilight of Sol and Luna. High in the heavens, the deities met..."

~

Walking down the corridor towards the dining hall, Martel passed by the entrance and froze. In the middle of the space stood the earthmage employed by the Night Knives, making cheerful conversation with the clerks. She wore ordinary clothes rather than those of her company, but he recognised her easily. It was strange to behold her in this way; in the Undercroft, he had caught glimpses of her looking ready to murder him, which she had also tried to do, or looking defeated and resigned on the march back. Now, she smiled and tossed her hair.

His first thought was that she had come to finish what she started, and his mind went through all the spells he might use in a fight against her. Then he realised that was foolish. She would not assault a student of the Lyceum right inside its entrance, especially not at lunchtime with everyone gathering in the dining hall next to it. Had she come to rat him out? Or maybe it was a coincidence. She had no idea who he was, and she had come to the Lyceum on some other errand unrelated to him. Regardless, no need to alert her to his presence. Slowly, he began walking backwards, eliciting protests from the people he almost bumped into.

"Martel! There you are!" The earthmage waved and approached him. "I figured I might catch you going to lunch."

As she approached, Martel desperately tried to figure out what to do. He stepped away from the corridor and the constant stream of people, waiting for her at the edge of the entrance hall. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a low voice.

"Relax. I'm here with an offer." She smiled at him. "Talking here at length might draw some looks, however, so I was hoping to invite you for lunch."

"You think I'm going anywhere with you?"

"As I recall from my days here, there's an excellent tavern just on the other side of the square. Open place, lots of people around. Nobody is foolish enough to hurt a student within sight of the Lyceum's walls."

Martel stared at her in disbelief, trying to understand her angle.

"I'll pay you two silvers for a quarter bell of your time. All I ask is that you listen to my proposal while eating a meat pie. After that, you never have to see me again," she explained.

"Who sent you?"

"I am in Morcaster on behalf of the Night Knives Company, acting on their full authority. If you mean who sent me to speak with you, nobody did. I am here because I believe you could be a valuable ally that my captain would reward me for recruiting. Now, could I tempt you with some food?"

Martel weighed his suspicion against his curiosity and desire to earn two silvers without work. "Anything looks fishy, you'll be the first to get a bolt of fire straight in the face."

She laughed. "Come along."

~

A few minutes later, Martel sat in the tavern opposite the school with a meat pie and a cup of ale in front of him. On the other side of the table, the earthmage had the same meal, which she quickly tucked into. "I missed these. I haven't been back to Morcaster since I graduated."

Martel considered her age. Somewhere in her twenties. Not long enough to have served the Empire for twenty years as he himself was contracted to do. If she came from a family rich enough to pay for her tuition, he could not imagine she would work for the Night Knives.

"I'm Flora. I know who you are, of course. Though it took me a while to learn your identity. I could not believe that Kerra had a battlemage in her employ, given how jealously the legions guard them. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the Copper Mage is a student still." She chuckled to herself.

"I'm not a battlemage. What do you want with me?"

"For someone your age, you did very well in the Undercroft. You're exactly the kind of mage that the Night Knives would like to have in our employ."

"I'm contracted for twenty years of service."

She waved her hand around dismissively. "So was I. A payment to the Imperial Treasury and the right people in the administration, and that will not be a problem. You should eat your pie."

That explained how she had been released from Imperial service. Almost reluctantly, Martel picked up his fork and grabbed a bite. Grudgingly, he had to admit it was good. "I don't want to kill people."

"Our first encounter has given you a poor impression of us. We would never accept a contract to fight ordinary people or just any law-abiding citizens, really. Most of our tasks involve guard duty for merchant caravans into rough territory. That's what I've done mostly." She tapped herself on the chest. "An earthmage to help clear the roads and provide a little extra power during dangerous situations is very valuable to the company."

"I'm going to train as a weathermage, probably. Maybe as a seamage. I don't see how I'd be useful."

"The company also provides protection for many ships. Not to mention, by controlling the wind you would cut a journey to the Western Isles in half. Doesn't that sound much more interesting than the Empire dispatching you to some forsaken outpost for only half the pay we offer?"

"I don't know. I don't like the idea of fighting for a livelihood, magic or not."

She regarded him over the edge of her cup as she took a sip. "A pity. Most mages fall victim to specialisation, you see. You saw that with me. I'm excellent with all things related to earth, but I was never trained in combat. You seem naturally talented, as to be expected from someone gifted in fire."

Martel's heart began beating faster, but he tried to look calm. "I'm not. I mostly use air and water."

She laughed a little. "Someone your age, throwing one bolt of fire after the other? Let's not lie to each other. Don't worry, I have no interest in revealing your secret. The legions would grab you up to be a battlemage, and you'd never be able to work for us Knives."

Martel frowned. "So, you want me to be a weathermage?"

"I want you to be skilled enough with weather that any ship would welcome you aboard, while having some combat capabilities to make any pirate turn around once you start setting his sails on fire," Flora explained with a smile.

Martel began demolishing his pie. He had no interest in the offer, but that was no reason to waste food. It also gave him a moment to consider his reply. He was not tempted to work for some mercenary band, but he also felt extremely uncomfortable that Flora had guessed about his affinity for fire. And an answer without commitment would probably be best. "I need to think about it. Consider my options."

She gave another smile. It was strange to see her in this easy-going manner, considering how aggressive she had looked shooting rays of frost to kill him. "Of course! I am confident you will realise our offer is best. You should know, we pay our people a share of the payment for every task completed in addition to a salary twice that of the Empire. There are none who can compete with that."

"I'll keep that in mind. Speaking of which, you mentioned two pieces of silver?"

"This first." Flora took out a small strip of parchment with an address written upon it. "Our current base in Morcaster, should you wish to know more." After that, she pulled out the money and placed it in front of him. "The Night Knives are true to their word."

Quietly, Martel scooped the coins up and placed them inside a pocket before finishing his pie.