Chapter 246: Clothes Make the Mage
Clothes Make the Mage
Sitting at breakfast, Martel looked up to see Henry approaching him. He almost smiled until he saw the air acolyte avoiding his gaze, quickly dropping a note next to Martel before hurrying onwards.
Martel would have to get used to that, it seemed. He grabbed the note. For something to be delivered at this hour suggested urgency.
Martel,
Visit my chamber at your next opportunity.
Mistress Juliana
Another thing to be expected; it was time to learn what his future held. With no reason to delay, Martel finished his breakfast and set out towards the faculty wing.
He stood outside her door, knocking for a little while until he heard her voice from an unexpected direction. "Martel, you certainly took my request to heart. I left the message last night and did not expect it delivered already." Down the corridor, Mistress Juliana came in approach.
"I guess the clerk sorting post was afraid to delay."
"Indeed." She reached him and unlocked the door, entering with him in tow. "I assume Master Alastair has explained your current situation to you."
He nodded, sitting down as she gestured towards a chair. "I am to be a battlemage."
"Yes." Her reply came without any hint of emotion. "I received the directive from the Imperial administration yesterday and have been preparing your new schedule." She dug out a piece of parchment and handed it to him. "Training as a battlemage is perhaps the most arduous study at the Lyceum, and you must still do it in one year. So your fivedays are full. Two lessons in fire magic on Peldays and Glundays. Two lessons in combat magic on Maldays."
With Reynard. Martel kept his groan silent.
"Mandays will be devoted to Master Fenrick in the mornings as usual, though your theory is at an end. Instead, you will learn various practical skills. He began a new course on the Archean language some fivedays ago, which you will join. The class is with the same students as your combat magic, whom I believe you also had astronomy with."
Martel chewed on this information. If he understood this right, he would be with Maximilian and Eleanor. Small blessings.
"You will have to catch up, but I foresaw this already when I prepared for you to study weather magic, and Eleanor Fontaine has promised to tutor you in Archean until you are at the same level as the others. She is already skilled in the language, I am given to understand."
"When did she agree to this?"
"A fiveday ago. Does it matter?"
Before the fire. Before he had mended fences with her. Even then, she had been willing to help him. "It does not." It only mattered to him.
"You also have a class with Master Alastair Manday afternoons. This is unusual, especially since you have plenty of classes already, but he suggested it. As a former battlemage, he believes he might be of aid to you, given the swiftness with which you must finish your training."
Martel began to feel emotional. True friends revealed themselves in times of need.
"Lastly, you still have to help Master Jerome on Soldays, but as an acolyte, you are no longer expected to help in the kitchens. Any questions?"
"Are you or Master Alastair in trouble? Because you helped me hide my affinity."
She waited a while before replying. "No. You are now an invaluable Imperial asset, whom the headmaster wanted to expel. He wants to avoid any further attention to the matter."
"There is something else. Do you know what happened the night of the fire? Why I was there, how it started?"
"Maximilian of Marche told me, though you are wise to be careful before sharing the events with anyone else. I told him as much."
"So you know that I have made an enemy of Duke Cheval." He stared at her, hoping she had some manner of advice while knowing he could not hope for much.
"As I said, you are considered invaluable to the Empire. He will not seek to harm you in any way that can be traced to him, as that would hurt his standing at court."
"That still leaves a lot of other ways."
She slowly nodded, exhaling loudly. "It does. I suggest you stay in the castle where you are safe. Finish your year and join the legions somewhere beyond his reach."
Martel had a feeling that going to war would not be much of an improvement in terms of personal safety. "Thanks."
"Also, this afternoon, stop by the quartermaster. Your acolyte robes should be ready."
***
After his meeting, once first bell had ended, Martel went for his shift at the apothecary. This time, Nora was present as usual.
As soon as Martel entered, he could tell the difference. She barely looked at him as she greeted him, and she gave the directions for his work with quick gestures rather than words. This was similar to when he had believed she had aided Jasper in extorting him, making Martel freeze her out. Except this time, she was the one to hold back, and not because of any flawed assumption, but because she knew the truth.
Martel thought about saying something as he washed his hands. But he could think of no argument to present. The truth was simple; he was fire-touched, prone to setting buildings on fire if he got angry. The fact that this had been revealed during an actual fire in the city, even if Martel had quelled rather than ignited the flames, probably did not help his cause.
Too weary to try explaining, Martel began chopping herbs.
***
Later, Martel did as Mistress Juliana had instructed and collected two sets of robes from the quartermaster. He returned to his chamber, removed his brown clothes, and put one of them on. Lacking a mirror or any kind of large reflective surface, he bent over his bowl of water to look down. His blurry face stared back at him, showing the dark red of the fabric that now enveloped his body. In addition, though he had to look down at himself to see them, the robe had patterns in bright red and yellow, similar to how other acolytes also had embroidered clothes.
At least nobody would mistake him for a clerk ever again.
Martel knew how the other students looked at fire acolytes. Distrust, apprehension, perhaps even fear. That would be his lot now. So be it. Martel had hidden his power for so long; not just at the Lyceum, but all his life back in Engby, where his father never wanted anybody to know of Martel's magical talent. But no more. Over the last year, running with the Night Knives and others, Martel had begun to understand the power given to him. He would not hide it, nor hide from it any longer.
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