Close Friends, Closer Enemies

Martel had only just returned to his room after breakfast when someone knocked on his door. With a bad feeling, Martel opened it. As suspected, Jasper stood outside. "I hear things went well for you yesterday. You finished another job. I'm just here for my half."

Martel figured with a strong enough punch, he could smash the smirk from Jasper's face. It would not solve any problems, but it would drastically make Martel feel better for now. Taking a deep breath, he went back into his room, collected two silver coins, and let them fall into Jasper's waiting hand. As he began closing the door, the acolyte quickly placed one foot across the threshold.

"Another thing. I heard you're making salve for the sparring matches."

"So?"

The acolyte crossed his arms, giving the novice an overbearing look. "Don't do that. Tell them you can't."

Martel frowned. Why did he care? "For what reason?"

Jasper's smug expression turned angry. "Because I told you so," he hissed. "Don't forget how this works. I command, you obey." The acolyte retracted his foot and turned to leave.

Martel balled his hands into fists, but he restrained himself as he watched Jasper walk away. Not yet; not like this.

***

Starting his day in such a manner left Martel in a fell mood. It was difficult to conceal from Master Alastair, having two classes with no other students around. But if his teacher noticed anything amiss, he did not address it and simply ran Martel through different exercises, all intended to help him improve at wielding air and fire together, honing his skill to use the elements in advanced fashion. Although lacking focus, Martel carried out the exercises while staying quiet, fearing what he might say if he voiced any of his frustrations. Same with doing his shift at the apothecary, giving curt answers to Nora's chipper attempts at conversation.

His thoughts kept returning to the conversation with Jasper, and running it through in his mind left Martel incensed every time. He had lost his desire to go to market, get the herbs for the salve, and take the finished product to the Basilica. Martel's only interest was to hurt the earth acolyte, punish him for causing all this anguish.

Eventually, as the day progressed, Martel managed to feel less frustrated and angry. He chided himself for letting his emotions interfere with his decisions. No matter his current situation and resentment of Jasper, Martel had a responsibility towards his little brother. If delivering a valuable offering such as a balm might bring Sol's blessing on John, it was obviously worth doing.

Counting his wealth after what Martel would consider Jasper's theft, he had seven eagles and four pennies. If he haggled a bit, Martel ought to have enough for the herbs and five silvers left to repay Weasel. Maybe the young chief could even offer Martel some advice about Jasper; he might have experience with this kind of sordid business. It would probably be beyond Martel's powers to receive counsel from Weasel for free, though.

***

Martel did his best to suppress his bad mood as he went to buy the needed herbs. He and the old herbalist had never spoken about the time when a group of thugs had chased Martel through the streets simply for buying some common plants; just another day in Morcaster, perhaps. Though Martel did not bear the old man any ill will; he had hardly been in a position to intervene. And perhaps because the herbalist felt sympathy towards Martel, he barely haggled and allowed Martel to buy what he needed with his remaining coin.

Trying to be thankful for small blessings, Martel returned to the Lyceum. He would begin the process of making the salve now so that it might thicken overnight. Tomorrow was Manday, and while Solday might have been a more auspicious day for his purposes, the day of the Moon would have to do. Afterwards, he could swing by Weasel's place and repay his debt. That would make for a long walk, going north to the temple and afterwards south to the copper lanes. But Martel felt less at ease at the Lyceum these days. Getting some distance between himself and Jasper suited Martel fine.

He went to the apothecary to begin his work. Nora was there as expected, mixing ingredients into what might be real potions, not just the simple remedies Martel had learned. A little envious, he set to his own task.

"Back again today? You didn't get enough of grinding powder this morning?" Nora asked with her usual cheerfulness.

"Just making a blood salve. As a gift for the Basilica." Martel did not explain the deeper reason; he was not in the mood for explaining about his little brother and answering follow-up questions.

"That's very nice," the apprentice replied. "I've done that a few times."

Their conversation dwindled into silence. As Martel went through the monotonous tasks, infinitely familiar to him through countless repetition, his mind was free to speculate. Glancing at Nora, he wondered once again why Jasper had forbidden him from making salves for the sparring mages, forcing them to buy from Nora.

Martel saw no benefit in this for Jasper, only her. She could continue selling the remedies, earning a nice bit of coin on the side. How did Jasper gain? He did not, unless… He and Nora worked together.

Martel started to think back on all the conversations he had shared with Nora. Working a full bell every single day, with her always being talkative and asking questions. Martel had never suspected anything other than a desire to pass the time, and he had willingly answered her questions and told her many things. None of his secrets, obviously, but who knew what she might have pieced together from all the little morsels he dropped?

Jasper had uncanny knowledge about Martel's affairs, such as his work with the Night Knives and the exact amount of payment received. That could not be explained by his access to the post arriving at the Lyceum. Glancing again at Nora, Martel wondered if all this time, her friendly behaviour had been an act.

"You're quiet today," she remarked.

"I've got a lot on my mind."