Public Enemy

Eating his breakfast alone, Martel paid little attention to those around him, but even he noticed as everyone suddenly became silent. Looking around, he saw the reason why; a pair of inquisitors had appeared in the dining hall, surveying the students. They looked familiar; probably they had been among those interrogating most of the school, back when they still hunted the maleficar.

Martel briefly wondered how that had gone; he had heard nothing further about this dark sorcerer, and the city had been quiet. No doubt if he had been caught, the inquisitors would have paraded him around town, which suggested that he had managed to evade them and stay underground, perhaps literally. No wonder this pair of blue-clad zealots looked angry, though Martel had rarely seen them with any other expression.

They spotted Martel and went in his direction. Of course. Who else could they be here to harass?

The shorter of them sat down opposite Martel; the taller remained standing, hovering over the acolyte while his fingers fiddled with the golden chain in his belt.

"You're a firemage now," remarked the inquisitor sitting down.

Martel recognised them, now that they were up close; they had been the pair who interrogated him in his room, forcing their way inside and practically keeping him detained to prevent him from getting help. Gold or not, he would not be so easily intimidated this time. "Congratulations. You can tell colours."

The taller one barked a coughing laughter. "A real wit. Why don't you put that mouth to use and answer our questions?"

The acolyte looked up at him. "You haven't asked any."

"Then pay attention to this one," the shorter inquisitor growled. "What happened the night of the fire in the Khivan quarter?"

Martel had wondered at when he might be questioned about the affair. Yet as the days had passed, he began to consider whether either the Lyceum had downplayed his role or perhaps Duke Cheval had kept a lid on any official investigation. But it appeared that the wheels of justice simply moved slowly. "I noticed a fire spreading. I extinguished it. It's the sort of thing I can do with magic." He pulled demonstrably on the red sleeve of his robe. "Being a firemage, as you astutely noticed."

"Quite a coincidence," sneered the seated interrogator. "A fire breaks out, and you, still a novice who happens to be fire-touched, happens to walk by?"

"What about the scuffle on the streets?" interjected his partner. "You were seen fighting with the locals. Did they try to prevent you from setting the fire?"

Martel almost laughed at the inept attempt of baiting him. He had no idea how the inquisitors fought in combat, but he certainly hoped they did better than how they questioned someone they considered a suspect. "Do you have any evidence or just random hearsay?"

"Witnesses who saw you fight," came the rebuttal. "Who say you used fire magic."

"To defend myself. I was beset by rogues, no doubt seeking to mug me and my companion, the viscount of Marche."

"So, you're claiming that you started the fire on accident?"

"Any fire magic wielded by me lacked the power to set a twig ablaze," Martel retorted dryly. "You can ask Mistress Moira, the Mistress of Fire here at the Lyceum. She'll agree."

"What is the meaning of this?" The overseer had appeared, her stern expression cracking a little to show fury underlying. "You are not to question students without a member of faculty present! And doing so in public view is scandalous! This discussion is over, and I will have words with your superior!"

The shorter inquisitor got up with a shrug. "We were done anyway."

The pair left, and Martel looked around to find everyone staring at him. Ignoring them, he finished his breakfast.

***

Later, Martel found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall, delivered by a mute Henry. Ignoring the air acolyte, Martel gave the note a quick read.

Master Martel,

I write to you for your own sake.

I strongly suggest you pay us

a visit when time permits.

Kerra

She persisted. Martel trusted her as much as he would a rotten toothpick, but he could not deny a certain curiosity as to her reasons. He did not think it a trap as such; more likely, she had some scheme where she wanted him to play an unwitting part.

But there was the slightest chance it was something else. She claimed that she wanted to meet for his sake; while Martel found it unlikely that Kerra would do anything other than for her own benefit, his situation had changed a lot recently. Certainly, given the scrutiny he currently faced, he had no desire to become entangled in her schemes; but given the enemy he had created in Duke Cheval, perhaps he should not be quick to dismiss someone as powerful as a Ninth Lord.

Sighing a little, Martel prepared to leave for the copper lanes.

***

It had been a long time since he last walked this path. It was strange to consider that for a while, such frequent trips to the copper lanes had almost been a daily occurrence. Now, it had been months since the last time; probably not since the ill-fated trip into the Undercroft, as far as Martel remembered.

Yet the district seemed itself, as did The Copper Drum.

Once he had entered, Martel located the nearest member of the staff. "Tell Kerra that I am waiting for her in the common room if she wants to talk." He had come this far; the least she could do was meet him down here. Fetching himself something to drink, Martel found a seat in a quiet spot and waited.

He saw no sign of his friends, but the sounds from the adjoining hall told him a fight was in progress, which explained their absence. Martel felt a little guilty that he had not been to visit Lothar and the others, though on the other hand, none of them had made attempts to contact him either.

After a while, Kerra sat down at his table. "You could have come to my study."

"Ale is better down here."

"You make a boy into a fire acolyte, and suddenly he has an attitude." Kerra smiled, but her expression had an edge to it.

Martel was tempted to argue, to point out how she had treated him, but he felt too tired after his demanding lessons. "Your message gave the impression you had something to share."

"I do. Lately, the copper lanes have been visited by people inquiring after you. Not looking for you, but information about you, that is. We all heard about the fire in the Khivan quarter, and now you sit here in a red robe. I assume there is a connection between all this."

So she had asked him here to gain knowledge rather than share it, Martel surmised. Still, he might learn something. Just the fact that people asked around about him in the copper lanes was worth knowing. The question remained what to share. If he revealed the truth of the events, would Kerra use it against him? Perhaps try to make a profit by selling him out to Duke Cheval?

Unless Martel could frame the nobleman as a common enemy. "I suspect those people are the servants of Duke Cheval."

For once, Kerra looked surprised. "What is his interest in you?"

"His men tried to burn down the Khivan quarter. I stopped them. I imagine now, he seeks retribution."

She scratched her chin. "An unbelievable story, except I cannot see any reason you would make this up. You have made a most dangerous enemy."

"An enemy to us all. He's been buying land in the enclave, and now with buildings burnt and people leaving, he can build new properties to make more money. Once he is finished with the Khivans, I wonder where his eye might turn next."

She leaned back in her seat. "You are implying that might be the copper lanes."

Martel raised his shoulders. "Cheap land, old buildings easy to replace, made from wood that might burn…"

Kerra looked not only contemplative; she almost seemed concerned, which Martel could not recall ever happening before. "I'll be on the lookout. His men will find no traction here."

"Good to hear."