Small Glow

Having seen how Sindhian alchemy worked up close, Martel finally understood how different it was. It should not have come as a surprise, given he knew about Tyrian runes, which likewise channelled magic completely different to the Asterian craft. Still, seeing what felt like almost raw or pure magic, floating in water with only a fragile bond keeping it in place, made him realise the limits of his own knowledge.

To Martel, magic had manifested itself as fire. As a child, the two had been the same. Coming to the Lyceum, he had learned how to make it manifest itself as the other elements, or even as part of his body. But he saw now what Master Alastair had tried to teach him, magic being an independent force, and the elements being vessels for it.

As he worked alongside Nora in the apothecary on Solday morning, Martel for once wished that they were on speaking terms. She might be the only person he could discuss this with. He could try to rectify matters between them, but since he had done nothing wrong, he was disinclined to take such a first step. So, like every other morning in the apothecary lately, they worked in silence.

***

Mistress Rana had paid him his wages for the fiveday yesterday, once Martel had finished in the laboratory; it was time to complete his promise to Weasel and pay him the last sum owed for guiding Martel through the sewers. Good thing that Marcus had covered payment for the second outing, stealing the healing potion from Cheval, as Weasel had demanded even more payment for that; otherwise, Martel would have been indebted to him for months to come. The little bastard would probably charge interest if that happened.

Grabbing some food at lunch to bring to Julia as well, he set out shortly after. The cold weather almost made him want to drink the potion from yesterday, though instead, he resorted to more natural means by increasing his pace. After walking a while, he began to feel warmer, the cold had less bite, and he made his way through the city. He chose a direct route for the most part, only ducking into alleys a few times as a precaution; nobody seemed to be following him.

Reaching the home of Weasel's gang, Martel was glad to see they had a bundle of firewood. He had plain forgotten on his last visits about buying them fuel, thinking only of the wounded Flora. "I see you got my present," Martel pointed out as he handed over five silvers to Weasel. "Not that your gratitude kept you from demanding payment for helping me."

"I can't throw away opportunities to make coin." The boy shrugged and returned upstairs with his money.

The other children crowded around Martel as he sat by the table, begging to see some magic. Indulging them, he summoned a flame hot enough to provide them warmth, and once their initial amazement had dwindled, they stretched out their small hands towards the fire to make the most of it.

"Were any of you awake when Weasel came back the other night and brought my friend a small bottle to drink?"

Some of them nodded.

"Did you see what happened when she drank it?"

"Oh yes," Sparrow said.

Hearing her talk caught Martel by surprise; she always seemed muted on his visits, ever since her experience being taken by the maleficar. Happy to encourage further speech, and eager to hear about the healing elixir, he continued, "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"She looked like death, to be honest. But then Weasel gave the little bottle to the big man, and he pried her mouth open to pour it in. It looked strange! The drink had its own strong glow, it looked like, though it quickly disappeared down her throat. Moments later, her face got colour, and her breathing didn't sound so ragged," Sparrow related. "She could even sit back up and talk."

Martel regretted he had not witnessed it himself; now that he had begun to understand Sindhian alchemy, he wanted to learn as much as possible. To wield the power of life in a small vial, able to administer it even to those with one foot in the grave… He knew it would take him ages to learn such potions, and he might have to continue his studies on his own after the Lyceum, but nothing felt more worthwhile. The Empire might force him to use his natural talent for war, but they could not deny him studying alchemy as well.

Martel thought about the cures for consumption too, looking around at the children who had benefitted from it. So much good could be done with alchemy. Far more than his talent with fire would ever allow him to do, he suspected.

Bidding the children farewell, Martel left the copper lanes. Under his robe, he had some slices of bread for Julia. He felt a little guilty for visiting the urchins while carrying food and not sharing it, but he had just paid Weasel enough to buy lots of bread. Besides, the children in the copper lanes had each other; Julia was on her own.

***

Walking eastward a while, Martel reached the harbour on his route back to the Lyceum. Glad to step inside the insula and escape the wind, he moved up the floors towards Julia's chamber. He nodded curtly to the few people he met, who quickly got out of his way; the intricate red robes could be seen underneath his cloak, which gave the impression of a man with certain means.

At last he stood outside her door and could give it a heavy knock. No response; usually she was quick to open and let him in. Martel tried a few more times with the same result.

Somehow, Martel had imagined Julia would always stay inside, where it would be safe. But even she had to leave sometimes to buy food or other necessities; he had given her money for that purpose, after all. Accepting that, he left.