Near-sighted

The next day held combat lessons. While Martel disliked any time spent with Reynard, the teacher's disinterest in his students made for less trying hours. It even afforded Martel an opportunity to spend some moments with his friends when they had the second lesson together.

"You were out quick last night! I would at least have expected you to accept the accolades of the crowd," Maximilian remarked.

"Honestly, even though I won, I felt wiped out."

"No wonder, seeing as you were slinging more spells than rats fleeing a sinking ship."

"I take it by your good mood that you found someone to take your wager on my fight?"

The mirth drained from the mageknights face. "Sadly not. They've grown wise to your ways, master battlemage. It would take something extraordinary for any to bet against you. Say, you against three opponents? Or that thing you did with the blindfold, truly inspired!"

Martel scoffed. "You'll have to find your entertainment elsewhere." He glanced at Maximilian above his hand, covered by a glove. "You still have your signet ring, right? You didn't gamble it away a second time."

"How dare you suggest such a thing," came the response counted with mock indignation. "But speaking of entertainment, next fiveday is solstice. All your dances better not be accounted for, Nordmark."

"Don't worry, I've got no plans. And this year, I actually got silver in my purse."

"Music to my ears," Maximilian said, "and soon, ale down my throat!"

***

Come evening, Martel left again. He would stay out of the copper lanes for now, but he did have another obligation in the city that required regular attendance. While Julia was particularly wary if not outright scared of the inquisitors, they could not be patrolling the harbour in force if they were doing the same in the slums. Besides, while doing alchemy might be the sort of thing they took notice of, Martel did it in the privacy of Julia's room; he could not imagine they could discover his potion-brewing and thereby her.

Buying the herbs he needed, Martel thanked the Stars that the sleeping draught did not require any sort of rare reagents. It was the only potion he knew to make that he also had any use for, or rather, that Julia could use. While he was glad to learn of the many elixirs against different diseases, he was also happy that he had no cause to need them yet.

Approaching the harbour, Martel found it even more congested than the market district. Ships were arriving for solstice, disgorging people and goods. Never happy in a crowd, Martel went down an alley to take a slower, but less trafficked route to Julia.

Walking in the shadow of the tall buildings on either side, he relaxed a little, feeling the noise and pressure of the throng subside. He walked casually, not in a particular hurry; the sun would set late, and the weather seemed like it would hold until he got back to the Lyceum.

Even so, something alerted his senses. Perhaps a sound difficult to discern, or just the feeling of another's presence – whatever it was, Martel did not feel alone in the alley. He let his magic extend behind him, and it told him of a heat source in the form of a human. It could simply be another person likewise preferring this route, but Martel preferred to avoid assumptions. At the same time, trying to confront the possible pursuer might allow them to get away, leaving Martel none the wiser.

He chose a path that led back to the main street. Once he reached it, he hurried to slip inside the bustling crowd, finding a vantage point behind a cart of goods that kept him hidden, but allowed vision of the alleyway.

Moments later, a man emerged. As he reached where the streets intersected, he stopped and clearly looked around. He squinted and stood with an open mouth, as if near sighted and perhaps not too bright. He looked somewhere in his forties, perhaps; not bald or balding, but possibly a receding hairline leaving plenty of forehead. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision and went down one direction.

Martel stayed hidden until his pursuer had disappeared before he turned around, walking the opposite way. The man's clothes had been ordinary, and Martel could only speculate as to his identity, except for one thing; he recalled a description of those few character traits given by Julia as to the inquisitor who hounded her.

***

Traversing the final miles to Julia's building, Martel made sure to keep a watchful eye. He stuck to the small alleys that allowed him to notice any other surveillants, and he chose a longer, less direct route.

Soon after, he knocked on her door, and she let him in. "I brought a few ingredients, in case you would like another sleeping draught."

"I would." She gave an inkling of a smile, usually the extent of her facial expressions.

Martel hesitated, unsure whether to bring this up; the girl already seemed frightened, even though she had lived the last many months in peace in this particular room. Still, if he wanted her to trust him, it was best to be honest. "You told me once of an inquisitor who pursues you. Bad eyesight, big forehead."

Her entire body stiffened. "Is he here? Did he follow you?"

"Nobody followed me. He tried to, but I lost him."

"Are you sure?" she asked sharply. "He took my parents – now he's coming for me!"

"I was very careful. My magic tells me if someone is after me. Besides, he wasn't even dressed as an inquisitor. It could just have been someone else I met by accident." Even if the man had been trailing Martel, it could be for a number of reasons. He had made quite a few enemies, after all, and some of them might be on the lookout for an opportunity to hurt Martel, Pact or not.

"You should leave." Julia stared at him with her big, serious eyes.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," he tried to reassure her. "It probably wasn't the same man that you're afraid of, and he didn't follow me here anyway."

"You should leave."

"What about the sleeping potion?"

"Please. Leave."

"Alright. I will." He turned towards the door. "Keep the things. I'll be back in some days, or next fiveday. We can make the potion then."

"Fine."

Back outside in the hallway, Martel heard her bolt the door behind him. Her fear seemed exaggerated; the inquisitors had no particular reason to be chasing Julia, simply because they had taken her parents. Given that they had their hands full, Martel doubted that they would continue to pursue her, year after year.

But he also understood she was spooked like a fawn in the fields, and reason would not convince her. He would give her some time and return another day, as he had promised. Once she saw that nothing had happened, and the nightmare chasing her did not come true, she would be fine again.