Chapter 208: Selling Services
Selling Services
While Master Fenrick spoke about an etching of an obsidian idol from the Western Isles and what that might suggest about the local understanding of magic, Martel thought about the catacombs. Obviously, he could not reveal to a teacher that he had visited that dreaded place. The amount of uncomfortable questions this would unleash – best to keep it to himself.
But Martel thought about the markings on the walls, looking to be of different make than those who built the tombs themselves. They had been made by the Archeans, while the catacombs were older, made by Asterians long ago. That aligned with what he had learned of the history of Morcaster. And he could deduce that the eerie symbols somehow acted as a ward to keep evil at bay.
But he would dearly like to know more. Such as, how powerful was this protection? Would the magic fade over time? Could it be destroyed? Most importantly, could Master Fenrick teach them how to create such magic? While Martel could not reveal that he possessed any knowledge of the catacombs, he did have another avenue of inquiry.
Martel raised his hand. With a barely audible sigh, Master Fenrick looked at him. "Does your question pertain to the idol?"
Martel shook his head.
"Fine. What is it?"
"When you took us to see the Stone of Archen, the walls had these strange markings. You said they created a barrier to keep something trapped. How does that work?"
Master Fenrick narrowed his eyes underneath his heavy spectacles. "That was months ago. What makes you ask?"
Martel shrugged. "A desire for knowledge."
"I remember you opening the door to the hallway against my explicit instructions," his teacher growled.
Martel had no response to that.
"The markings, as you call them, are an early form of the Archean alphabet. Not the one used by educated people today, not as ancient as that of Phoenik, which it seems inspired by, but in between."
"So how does the magic work?" Martel asked, though he feared that he knew the answer, same as always when related to Archen.
"We don't know."
***
As Martel checked for messages, Henry looked at him with a knowing smile. "Flora, isn't she the earthmage who came to see you the other day? You got your hooks in another," the air acolyte said as he extended a small note. "I never would have guessed that about you. Must be those blue eyes."
With a scowl, Martel grabbed his letter and unfolded it.
Master Martel,
Your presence is requested.
Please pay us a visit today.
Flora
That was a lot faster than Martel had expected. But given his situation, he would make no complaints about it. As Master Fenrick had dismissed him from taking his spellpower class on Manday afternoons, he had plenty of time. With no reason to delay, Martel fetched his cloak and gloves before leaving the castle.
***
He made his way to the small insula like the other day, soon reaching the unassuming place that served as headquarters for the Night Knives in Morcaster. After he knocked, the door was opened by Marcus, who gave a snort and stood aside to let him enter.
Flora sat at the table, eating. Judging by the other plate, so had Marcus, who returned to finish his meal. Meanwhile, the earthmage looked up to smile at Martel. "You got my message. Good. Best if we can decide this today." She pushed her food aside.
Martel sat down at an empty seat. "What's going on?"
"Having two mages on offer sparked some interest, as I had hoped." Flora smiled again. "Lady Pearl – if you remember her – has a regular customer who has racked up a sizeable debt, which he now refuses to pay. We have been asked to pay him a visit and get him to cough it up."
It took Martel a moment to remember the name. He finally recalled her from the meeting of the Nine Lords. While not eager to become entangled with any of them, the task did not sound complicated, though Martel was a little suspicious. "Why doesn't she send her own people?"
"The man in question, Lord Roy, is a patrician. He lives where the bridge district meets the nobles' quarter, but just a few streets too far to the north. That is the territory of the Comtesse, and there's bad blood between her and Lady Pearl."
"Lady Pearl sending in her own people could escalate into a conflict," Marcus added, pushing his empty plate away. "Debt is not worth that headache. But we're a neutral force."
"Sends a signal that Lady Pearl isn't trying to muscle in outside her territory, she just wants her money," Flora concluded.
"Do you think this Comtesse, her men, could give us trouble?"
The earthmage shook her head. "We'll be in and out between two strokes of the bell. Though the pay is accordingly. Truth be told, Marcus and I could probably handle this, but it seemed a good opportunity to let you have a taste for it, see how we all work together."
Martel turned the rune token in his pocket over, glancing at Marcus. The warrior seemed dour, but not outright hostile. Certainly the task seemed simple enough, even if he did not like the suggestion of conflict between two of the Nine Lords. After Kerra and Tibert, Martel had no further taste for that. "How much?"
"Three eagles if we complete the job. If we must resort to fighting to get it done, pay is doubled. But that's no excuse to start trouble yourself," Flora cautioned him with a wry look. "We only fight if attacked. The faster and easier we get this done, the better."
Martel could agree with that philosophy, and he was in no position to refuse three silvers. "I am in."
Marcus gave a grunt while Flora smiled. "Good. What time can you be here tomorrow? The sooner, the better."
Tomorrow was Solday, which meant an open afternoon. "Fifth bell?"
"See you then."
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