No Good Deed Unpunished

Martel woke in a bed he did not recognise. He lay in an alcove, his head pounding and his mouth feeling absolutely dry.

"Good to see you awake."

Slowly, Martel turned his head towards the voice. Master Alastair smiled back at him. He finally recognised where he was. His teacher's private chamber. "What happened?"

"You drew on far more magic than you could control. You fell into what we consider a magical sleep," Master Alastair explained. "Your mind and body closing down until you have recovered."

"How long?" Martel croaked.

"It is third bell. They brought you here in the middle of the night. Perhaps eight hours or so?"

"The Khivans?"

"Some perished in the fire. But only a handful compared to the hundreds in danger. You saved many lives, Martel. I am proud of you."

That ought to feel good, but Martel was too worn out to really take note. "I'm thirsty."

"Of course. Your body needs nourishment." Master Alastair rose from his seat, grabbed a cup and plate, and walked over to his side. "Water and some food. I can get more if you need."

Martel drank greedily and took a slice of apple afterwards. He wondered briefly where his teacher had gotten fruit from this deep in winter.

"There is something you should know."

Busy chewing, the novice looked at Master Alastair.

"With all the witnesses, we could not prevent the story of your actions from spreading."

Martel frowned, unsure why his teacher looked so apprehensive.

"You are a novice who nonetheless tamed a dangerous fire. There can be only one explanation for that."

It finally sank in. "Everyone knows I am fire-touched."

The old battlemage nodded. "Mistress Juliana expects to hear word from the Imperial administration one of these days. You will become an acolyte very soon, so that is not an issue anymore, though I fear any choice of further studies is out of your hands now."

Martel leaned back. He had more pressing concerns on his mind. "Am I free to leave?"

"You're not a prisoner. Master Kelsos said you could move around on your own once you felt strong enough to do so."

Martel pulled away the blanket that covered him and slowly sat up. The pain in his head intensified, but nothing troubled him otherwise. "I'm good."

Master Alastair refilled his cup. "Your body is famished after healing from your exhaustion. Finish the food and drink some more, and I won't stand in your way."

***

Martel returned to his chamber first, changing from festive clothes to his robe. He added a cloak and left, keeping an eye out for any teacher as he departed from the castle. While nobody had expressly forbidden him from leaving the Lyceum, he imagined that Masters Kelsos and Alastair had only intended for Martel to walk around the premises. But he needed to know.

The sun hung low on the horizon, making him narrow his eyes as the pain in his head intensified. Going southeast, he could not escape the solar glare and simply had to suffer it, though he sought refuge in the shadow of taller buildings where possible.

As he reached the Khivan quarter, the smoke could still be smelled in the air. He reached the watchmaker's workshop, but before he knocked, he decided to continue just a little farther. Before his eyes lay the devastation wrought by Duke Cheval's greed. A handful of homes burnt to cinders. Members of the city guard were still present, chopping down the remains of the buildings to clear the grounds and prevent any resurgence of the fire.

Few Khivans were about. Martel did not blame them. He wondered if they knew the truth about how the blaze had started; presumably those who witnessed or even participated in the fight with Martel, Maximilian, and the hired thugs would know this was not an accident.

Regardless, there was nothing further Martel could accomplish. He turned around and walked back to the watchmaker's workshop, knocking on the door soon after.

It took a while until Shadi appeared, cautiously opening the door. As she saw him, she slipped outside. "You're alright! I was so afraid when they carried you out of the temple. You didn't move." She stepped forward to hug him tightly.

"I don't remember what happened. Not after the fire was stopped."

"We all saw you. Atop the tower. They carried you down and placed you by the fountain, but nobody knew what to do until Maximilian showed up. He got you onto a cart and drove off with you," she explained, releasing him from her embrace.

Maximilian. Of course. He looked at her as she shivered, standing outside in her clothes meant for indoors. "Should we go inside?"

A strange expression filled her face. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Something wrong?"

"Martel, my dad and I, we're leaving."

He looked up at the house. "But your home is fine."

"It's not that." Shadi looked at him with mournful eyes. "Someone tried to burn down our district last night. There are riots and brawls on our streets. And they keep bleeding us dry with rent because we don't have the right to own land."

He began to understand where this led, yet he refused to accept it.

"We are packing up. Dad is selling his tools and what else he's got. We're going on the next ship to Sindhu, and from there back to Khiva."

"But your life is here." Martel found it hard to control his voice. "You belong here. Can't you stay?"

She tried to blink away her tears. "I can't leave my dad on his own, and he is absolutely determined to leave. It's just too hard on him."

"Does it have to be soon? If you just stay a few fivedays, we can spend some time, go places…"

She shook her head. "Dad won't stay a moment longer than necessary. And I don't think you should come back here."

He looked at her in shock. "Why not?"

"Because it's hard enough to say goodbye once. Don't put me through this twice."

Speechless, Martel could do nothing but stare at her. Finally, she framed his face with her hands, gave him a kiss, and slipped back inside before he could react.

***

Martel wandered around the city distraught. A whirlwind of emotions flurried through his mind. Everything he had done to protect Shadi, to keep her in Morcaster, all in vain. Not only that; his secret was out. They would make him into a battlemage and send him to war.

He went to the harbour, finding a seat by the docks to look at the ships. If he set them on fire, none of them could carry Shadi away from here. Resisting the temptation, he walked onwards.

Time lost its meaning to him as he continued his idle journey. Only when he suddenly noticed a temple bell ringing six times did he realise that he had spent nearly half a day in the city. He once again felt hungry and weary; his headache, which had dulled for a while, returned with a vengeance. He set a course back towards the Lyceum.

Once back, he stayed in his chamber until his Khivan clock told him that supper would be served. As much as the needs of the body felt trivial on a day like this, he knew he could not wait until morning before eating again. With heavy steps, he dragged himself to the dining hall.

Silence fell as he entered. Everyone seemed to stare at him, either with fear or loathing. He did not understand why. No doubt they had heard about what had happened last night, but Martel saw no reason for this to inspire hostility. Previously, such as when he had duelled Cheval shortly after his arrival, his fellow students had lauded him and sought his company. Now they shunned him.

Martel was too young to understand that the former events had shown him to be their peer; the latter proved him their superior. And mages handled feeling inferior poorly.

He was too numb to care. He was no stranger to eating alone, and he had never experienced much fellowship with others during class. If he were to finish this year in solitude, so be it. Collecting his food, he found an empty table and ignored the looks sent his way.

He sensed rather than saw a shape move behind him and drop down on the bench next to him. He knew almost just from the weight and the accompanying grunt that his companion was Maximilian. Opposite him, he looked to see Eleanor take a seat, giving him a cautious smile. They ate their meal in silence.