Blissful Sleep

Despite Martel's fears, nothing further happened at the Four Flagon Tavern that night. He left through a hatch hours after dark, emerging in the alley behind the building, and returned to the Lyceum to get what sleep he could.

When he woke, his fears still pursued him. It felt ridiculous attending class like any ordinary day, knowing the Night Knives might return to the tavern at any moment to finish their assignment. Yet Martel knew that absence from the Lyceum would not be tolerated; any freedom he currently possessed would quickly be withdrawn if he did not appear as required.

His concerns interfered with his focus, leading to poor performance as could be expected; Moira was swift to deride him, but at least she did not punish him further. And given Martel had participated in an actual fight yesterday, he would argue that he had gained more valuable experience from that than any training in the Circle of Fire.

The moment his second lesson had ended, Martel grabbed his cloak, cap, and a small vial before he entered the city. He would have to go without supper; he felt far too anxious to wait any longer. On swift steps, he rushed through the streets going east. With the spring festival at an end, he encountered much less traffic and could quickly make his way to the bridge district.

Reaching the Four Flagon Tavern, Martel noticed the doors stood open, which seemed a good sign. If it operated as usual, matters could not be all bad. Though he did also observe fewer people going in and out compared to the previous fiveday. Some of this might be because festivities had ended, or the hour of the day was still early, though Martel imagined it was because of the fight. Even though the actors had gone through with performing their new play last night, the benches had been less than half full.

Stepping inside, Martel found a dreary sight rather than a bustling tavern. Fewer guards compared to yesterday as well; perhaps because of wounds, though Martel would have imagined the owner immediately hiring more help in light of recent events.

Crossing the room, Martel continued down the stairs to the basement. He saw the actors scattered around the space, cleaning up or making preparations for tonight's performance. Pipe in hand, Regnar approached him upon spotting the acolyte. "Good seeing you, lad."

"Anything happen after I left?"

"A shed in the backyard burnt down. A warning to us, I imagine." The hedge mage inhaled from his pipe.

"At least this building is stone."

Regnar exhaled a few smoke rings. "Aye. I set up wards to protect us against intruders and the like. I'm mostly worried if they come back in force. Half the guards left."

Martel wanted to ask more about these wards, how they worked, and the magical principle behind them, but now was not the time. "They'll definitely be back."

"We'll see. Whatever this spat is, we'll have to ride it out."

Martel had somehow thought that Regnar understood what was going on, but he realised now that the old mage thought this was some trivial dispute. "I don't think you've grasped the situation. You've run afoul of Lady Pearl by joining up with her enemies and setting up shop basically a stone's throw away. She thinks you're a threat, and you're in her lair. She'll continue until she is rid of you."

"What you're talking about, lad? I know of this bald wench, but I figured her dispute was with Wendell, the guy who owns this place. That he didn't pay her tribute or something like that."

Martel shook his head. "That noble family you did work for, who set this all up, they're against her. Probably working with her other rivals. That's why they wanted you lot in here, in her district. As a provocation, to stir trouble, something like that. They probably made sure she knew as well."

Regnar removed the pipe from his mouth. "Stars, this is some quarrel between the Nine Lords, isn't it? I'll talk to the others. They are not as familiar with Morcaster as me, but once I explain what's going on, I'll convince them we are better off back on the road." He gave a melancholy smile. "Back to sleeping in hedges."

"That's good. Just tell them you're leaving, and you'll be safe. They won't care once you're gone."

"Alright. Appreciate you tipping us off, lad. Staying for supper?"

"I better get going. I have another errand, and I need to practise my spellwork." Last lesson in Tyrian runes had felt like a failure.

"A wizard's work is never done." Regnar smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Come back tomorrow to see us before we leave."

"I will!"

***

Despite his urgency to return to the Lyceum and spend an evening by drawing the same rune over and over, Martel still found time for a detour. In his pocket, he could feel the small vial that he had bought from Mistress Rana with the wages of the previous fiveday. Being a gift for Julia, Martel wanted to deliver it now rather than keep forgetting; if it worked and gave her restful, uninterrupted sleep, he might persuade Mistress Rana to teach him the recipe soon, and he could make more for his little apprentice.

And if his teacher was reluctant to show him, Martel could try to learn on his own, though he figured that was still too soon; working with some of these herbs, such as hemlock, made poisoning a real risk. Martel was pretty sure that the inquisitors did not care whether poisoning others was done accidentally or not. Not to mention, Martel would not forgive himself for hurting someone innocent in this manner.

Moving through the insula, Martel reached Julia's door and knocked. She quickly let him in and gave him a curious look. "What brings you by?"

He pulled out the small vial containing the elixir of blissful sleep. "This is for you. I don't know exactly how it works, but it was made by my teacher, so it's sure to be safe and effective. When you need a good night's rest, drink this."

Julia accepted the flacon with more interest and emotion than she usually showed. Evidently, this mattered more to her than his previous gifts. He could see why; food, shelter, clothes and blankets to stay warm, all these things could be obtained in different ways. But restful sleep, free of unpleasant dreams, that was a rare gift.

She looked up at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Maybe once I learn the recipe, we can make some together."

"That sounds nice."

"I think so too." With a wink, Martel left again.