Chapter 237: Silence Is Silver
Silence Is Silver
Yawning over his morning porridge, Martel rubbed his eyes. He had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but it still felt early to be up. Especially since he would soon be back out in the city, chasing the same kind of trouble as last night. At least he had no classes, in fact barely any chores except apothecary work; the only good thing that came from the stalemate with his advancement to acolyte. In fact, the lack of lessons made it harder for him to remember what day it was. And, he suddenly remembered, he had an engagement on Solday. He still felt apprehensive about going to the duke of Cheval's celebration, just for the chance to rummage through his study, but what was the point of magical powers if he could not use them to help those he cared about?
He turned towards Maximilian, likewise looking slow this morning. "Max, what day is it?"
"You are asking me?" The mageknight gave some manner of pensive growl. "Glunday, I think."
Still two days until Solday. It occurred to Martel that he had no form of transport, and he could not imagine walking across the city in the kind of shoes expected for such an event. "Are you attending the duke of Cheval's solstice celebration?"
"My father would whip me if I did not. What makes you ask?"
"Can I travel with you?"
Maximilian looked at him in surprise. "I had to drag you to the feast in the Imperial palace, yet this you attend freely?"
"The duke invited me. I don't feel like I can refuse to show," Martel claimed.
"Well, you're welcome to travel with me on one condition."
"Which is?"
"Tomorrow night, my father hosts our solstice celebration. You are hereby invited. Surely you will not refuse?" The mageknight grinned at him.
"What? Why do you even want me there?" Martel complained.
"Certainly not for the kind of company you presently offer," came the dry response. "But if the duke of Cheval has shown an interest in you, and I failed to bring you to my father's celebration, it would reflect poorly on me. We are friends, after all."
An argument the novice could not refute. "Fine. Tomorrow night?"
Maximilian nodded. "Be ready at fifth bell."
Martel sighed.
***
Once third bell rang, Martel finished his work in the apothecary and left the castle soon after. He waited a brief while, shielding himself from the cold wind with his cloak, until Flora and Marcus appeared at the open square outside the school.
Martel could tell that neither of them had seen sleep for more than a few hours. He felt almost well-rested in comparison by looking at them. "What are we doing?"
"We found the hideout of the gang that assaulted us. We are going to get some answers, same tactics as when we cleared that house for Lady Pearl," Flora explained. "I know that's two fights for the price of one, but we need to find out how they knew about us. Can we count on you?"
Martel was never eager to jump into a fight, but he could hardly leave the Night Knives on their own. Strangely enough, considering how they first met and the general reputation attributed to mercenaries, the sell-swords had proven steadfast in their friendship towards him. "Let's go."
***
"We should expect seven or eight inside," Flora explained as they looked towards the building housing the brigands. Small and unassuming, it lay directly against the neighbouring structures. "No guard outside, so they're probably watching from the upper floor. No bodies if it can be avoided," she impressed upon them. "We don't want more attention than needed."
"Same approach as last?" Marcus asked.
Flora nodded. "I'll go in once I hear you." She separated from the others, moving around the block towards the alley behind.
Marcus hefted his sword and shield, looking at Martel. "They'll see us as soon as we move out on the street." They stood by the edge of another alleyway, hiding behind the building on the corner. "We rush across the street, make our way in, and incapacitate those inside. Expect them coming down the stairs. You got range, so you deal with them. Understood?"
"I'm ready."
The warrior looked towards the building, took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint. Quickly, Martel followed, and they crossed the street in a few moments. A swift kick opened the door, revealing a band of thugs reaching for weapons. As Marcus engaged the closest, slamming his shield into the other man's face, Martel blasted another to the side, knocking him off his feet. As the veteran tried to get back up, Martel stepped forward and swung his staff to deliver a concussive blow.
Several came jumping down the stairs. One in the back had a bow. Before he could shoot an arrow, his bowstring caught fire and broke.
Flora burst in from the backdoor. She sent a ray of frost towards the nearest enemy, making him buckle over in pain. "Surrender if you wish to live, fools!"
Clearly outmatched if not outnumbered, several of the brigands retreated and lowered their weapons. One of them still raised his sword, and Martel blasted the blade from his hand with a well-aimed burst of wind.
Flora looked from one to the other. "We met last night. You clearly had some help planning that ambush, and I want to know from whom."
The bandits exchanged glances. Several of them still had their weapons in hand, even if lowered.
An icicle appeared in Flora's hand and extended itself towards the nearest brigand, who backed away. "If I don't get an answer now, the first among you will die. And then another. Until you tell me."
"He didn't share his name," one of them explained quickly. "A few of us met him, that's all."
The icicle in Flora's grasp extended itself further another inch. "A description?"
"Uhm, short, and bald. No beard. Tapered ears like a goblin."
The earthmage quickly stepped forward, pointing her icicle against the chest of the talking bandit. "If any of this is a lie, this is your only chance to correct it. If I have to come back, I won't bother talking."
"It's true, I swear by Sol and the Stars!"
The others quickly nodded.
Flora looked at her companions. "We are done." Demonstrably, she turned her back towards the thugs as she walked out, though Martel caught the glimmer of magic, showing that she had summoned her shield.
Outside, they quickly crossed the street while Martel kept glancing over his shoulder. The bandits did not follow them. "You sure they told you the truth?" Martel asked. They were hardly a trustworthy lot.
"Unfortunately, that description fits too well. Did you notice Lord Ironside's new lieutenant yesterday, who received the shipment?"
In the dark, with his mind on the ambush, Martel had not paid him any attention. But he suddenly saw what Flora meant. "Now what?"
Flora exhaled. "Now we find a place to get something to drink while we think."
***
They left the market quarter entirely, finding a tavern at the edge of the bridge district instead. Each with a tankard in front of them, Martel looked from one to the other. He wanted to ask what this meant, but he was unsure about disturbing their thoughts.
At length, Flora spoke. "I can think of two explanations. On the surface, it looks like Lord Ironside's lieutenant is making a play against his master."
"A poor one in that case. We dispatched those cutthroats with ease," Marcus pointed out.
The earthmage nodded. "Which makes me suspect something deeper is afoot. I think that bald bastard set this ambush up with his master's blessing."
That left Martel more confused than ever. "Why would he rob himself?"
"There are constantly independent gangs springing up across the city. All the Nine Lords have trouble with them. I imagine our good client used us to bloody their nose. Two tasks for the price of one. And he got the chance to put our skills to the test, if that was something he wondered about," Flora considered.
Martel scratched the back of his head. Involvement with any of these Nine Lords always seemed to bode ill. "So, what are we going to do?"
The earthmage shrugged. "Nothing."
The novice looked at her shocked. He turned his eyes on Marcus, who seemed likewise indifferent. "So he gets away with it?"
"When Kerra used you as bait for an ambush, did you take vengeance on her afterwards?" Flora raised an eyebrow. As he did not reply, she continued, "If I am right, we gain nothing challenging one of the Nine Lords. If I am wrong, let him figure out for himself that his lieutenant is disloyal." She opened her purse and counted out eight pieces of silver. "Either way, you've gotten paid."
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