Sleepy Work

The hours in the Circle of Fire felt long as always; the physical and magical exertion was only made worse by constant tongue lashings from Moira. Martel longed for the day when he would never have to endure a moment in her presence again, though he grudgingly had to admit that she returned his golden dagger to him where others, such as Master Alastair, would not. She had not argued against him or tried to make a decision on his behalf; she had simply given it to him. Not that one friendly act made up for all the hostility she had put Martel and her other students through; he could not imagine that he would ever forgive her for that.

As for the dagger, it rested inside the drawer of Martel's writing desk. While he had been glad of it two days ago in the catacombs, he still felt uncomfortable around it; in part because it was a weapon designed to hurt people like him, in part because someone had used it for that exact purpose already. Besides, walking around the Lyceum with a mage killer blade in his belt seemed like bad form.

In the distance, the bell rang. "Alright, you little maggots, enough for now. I'll see you this afternoon." Coming from Moira, the reminder of the day's second lesson felt like a threat. One after the other, the four acolytes filed out of the Circle of Fire.

***

Walking past the workshop on his way to dinner, Martel was reminded of his lack of progress with enchanting. Rather than keep postponing, it seemed prudent to ask Master Alastair for help while he remembered to do so. Since no classes were being taught during the lunch bell, now might be the best time. Delaying his meal, Martel crossed the castle to reach the faculty wing in the western part.

After knocking a while on the door to Master Alistair's chamber, he realised the flaw in his plan; the man was most likely busy enjoying his dinner with the other teachers in the dining hall reserved for their use only. Students were not supposed to go there, and Martel figured that they frowned on students interrupting their mealtime. Not the best conditions to come asking for help. He would have to try another time.

Going back, he found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall.

Master Martel,

If you can spare the time,

I should be glad to hear

of your exploits the other

day. I await you, eve of

tomorrow. Same time,

same place as last.

Your friend the Friar

A little unexpected. Martel had gotten the impression that the Friar had no personal interest in this matter and had only provided aid from a sense of obligation towards Martel. Nor did the young wizard see what might be accomplished by such a conversation; he doubted that more could be done. But he saw no outright reason to reject the request; no harm in indulging the old monk, and since he protected Martel in some ways, it might be best to remain in good standing with him.

***

Once his classes were done, Martel left the castle. He wanted to practise his alchemy and also get Julia a new sleeping potion, and he knew she might be gone from her room after nightfall, so it seemed best to leave at the earliest opportunity. This did cause Martel to miss supper, and there was a time where the thought of skipping a free meal seemed inconceivable to him. But thanks to Mistress Rana's generosity, his purse had plenty of silver for both ingredients and buying something to eat on his way.

Money was not a hindrance for him anymore, not as such; when it came to alchemy, Martel's problem was not the price of reagents, but rather scarcity. He had plenty of coin to spend, but he only knew of vendors who sold the most common herbs and the like. That was fine for apothecary remedies and the simplest potions he knew to make, but not the rest. There was little point in knowing how to make an elixir that cured diseases if he lacked the materials, but he did not know where Mistress Rana got hers from.

Of course, certain plants she collected herself; Martel would have to ask her about that and when she might teach him such herblore. But plenty of the strange ingredients in her laboratory had to come from far away.

On a few occasions, Martel had ground to dust what his teacher had called cat claws; when he had remarked that these claws were many times bigger than what any cat might have, Mistress Rana had given a rare smile and told him about lions. It was not an animal that lived in these parts, at least not in the wild, and certainly not in Nordmark; where Mistress Rana had gotten these claws from, he had no idea.

With a bundle of herbs in his arms and food in his stomach, Martel knocked on Julia's door. He had more luck than with Master Alastair; the hinges croaked as the entrance opened, granting him access.

"Hullo." She looked at him.

"I thought we might do some alchemy together. Would you like another sleeping draught?"

She nodded and moved over to prepare the cauldron and what else they needed. "Are there still the men in blue clothes on the street? I don't have much water left because I'm afraid they're waiting for me out there."

Martel wanted to explain that most likely, the inquisitors had no interest in Julia, but he got the feeling she would not listen. Huh, maybe that was how Eleanor felt about him. "No sign of them. They were mostly by the docks anyway. But I can go fetch water for you before I go home?"

"No, it's all right. If I stay inside this room all day, every day, I'll go crazy."

She spoke it in such a matter-of-factly tone, Martel could not help but smile. Looking at the cauldron ready for him, he extended his magic and began heating it up.