Raising Walls

As the acolytes gathered in the Circle of Fire, their shared looks told Martel they all felt as unhappy and apprehensive as he did. Everyone knew what awaited them once Moira arrived. They stood in silence rather than repeat the arguments from yesterday's failed fight; presumably like Martel, none of them had the energy for it.

Their teacher appeared, giving them all disdainful looks. "You little fools. Did you think one bright idea would take care of the mageknights permanently? I hope you took away the right lesson from this. You only surprise your enemy once. All of you will report tonight after last bell for detention. Maybe I can teach you imbeciles something new, since your current abilities clearly won't avail you much on next Malday."

The acolytes exchanged glances. As much as Martel disliked this teacher and these lessons, the mention of learning something new actually made him feel interested.

"But we'll save that for later. I saw how those bull-headed warriors shrugged off some of your spells. If your fire bolt doesn't make them regret being born, you're not doing it right. Spread out, you little twerps. I see we must go over the basics again."

They spent the remaining bell on the mind-numbing task of casting the same spell over and over again.

***

For their second lesson in fire magic, the acolytes duelled each other as usual. Far preferable to their first lesson, though still an arduous bell to get through. And every time Martel remembered he had detention, he silently groaned.

As his Khivan clock showed nearly eight, he quit his Sindhian exercises and returned to the Circle of Fire for the third time today. The other acolytes met him, none of them looking any more pleased than him about what lay ahead.

Moira arrived, wild hair flowing in every direction. "When outnumbered, or making a retreat, controlling the terrain can make all the difference. Now, those Nether-born earthmages will put up all sorts of earthen walls, but those can be overcome. We have better." She pointed at the floor. A flame burst up, at least six feet tall, and quickly grew in either direction to bisect the round chamber.

Martel approached the flaming wall; even several paces away, he could feel the heat. He did not need his magical sense for that. He could only imagine the pain trying to pass through.

The wall disappeared as Moira ended the spell. "You all know how to summon flames. The difficult part here is that you're not doing it from any point on your own body, but extending your magic to start the fire as an external point. Furthermore, you must make the flames grow and spread out swiftly while making them sufficiently intense to deter any notions of passing through them. Else there's not much wall about it."

Martel thought about the few times he had used this very spell successfully, and the many times he would have used it, except it took him too long.

"I have no doubt it will take you lot ages to master it. I'll be surprised if any of you can keep up just a hand's worth of what might seem like flaming wall. You'll run out of spellpower long before," Moira scoffed. "So from now on, you practise this while you got spellpower to work with. After that, you're back to the basic spells."

Martel raised his hand. "What if we are able to cast the spell before we run out of spellpower?"

His teacher laughed, which was an unpleasant sound all to its own. "If you do that tonight, you can leave detention early, boy."

Pointing both of his index fingers in front of him, Martel raised a wall of fire on the ground. He moved his fingers in half circles around him to meet behind his back, letting the flames erupt where he pointed. The spell complete, he looked at Moira.

She stared at him with an expression he could not decipher. "I guess you can go," she finally said.

Ending the spell, Martel walked towards the exit.

"I bet you lot wish you were fire-touched too," his teacher added. Martel did not need to look over his shoulder to know that the other acolytes stared at him with hatred as he left.

***

While tempted to return straight to his room, Martel decided to find out what Lady Pearl wanted. The sooner he could practice alchemy on his own, the sooner he might actually become any good at it; that required coin to buy the supplies. Not to mention, he hoped to soon learn recipes that he might actually have use for.

An hour later, he entered The River Pearl. The guards waved him straight through to reach the study of the proprietress. "Master Martel, good of you to come." The bald woman looked up with a smile.

"Your message sounded intriguing," he responded, trying to be polite without sounding eager.

"You are sure to find this enticing," she claimed. "On Solday, I'm having a feast right here at the Pearl. A masquerade. Everyone loves those."

Martel probably did too, if he knew what it was. But some kind of feast, that could not be too bad – except of course, Kerra had invited him to one of those, and he remembered how that went.

"My request to you is simple. I want you to attend as a guest and mingle with my other visitors. Use your skills to tell who might be faking their wealth, or even if someone is wearing magical artefacts."

"Well, I can do that easily. Is that useful to you?" Martel asked.

"In different ways. Many of my guests either do business with me, or they patronise my establishment. Anything I can learn may give me a little edge during negotiations – or tell me who'll have trouble paying their debts." She smiled again. "On that note, I'll pay you ten silvers for the evening. Food and wine aplenty, and if you desire company, you can have it at a favourable price."

The acolyte cleared his throat. "Ten silvers sound good. When should I be here?"

"Oh, sometime after seventh bell, I suppose. It's a party, no strict hour of attendance. I trust you have something suitable to wear for a feast? You do rather look the part of a wizard right now, and discretion will be required."

"I do."

Lady Pearl inclined her head. "See you Solday, Master Martel."