Chapter 275: Standing Guard
Standing Guard
Pacing back and forth to help himself keep warm, Martel still shivered every time a gust of wind made its way down the alley. He wondered how long it would be before he got to move indoors. It would not be any time soon, he surmised, if the person sleeping during each shift was meant to get any decent rest. Based on that, it might be three hours before he would take Flora's place, which meant another three hours before he could sleep. He thought about the money to comfort himself, which did little to cheer him up. At least the sum would be enough to keep his purse heavy for a long time; he would not have to worry about coin or finding other work.
Trying to put his time to good use, Martel reached into his pocket and withdrew the herb given to him by Mistress Rana. Toadflax, named because its flowers resembled the wide mouths of toads, she had explained. He would have to look it up in the library to see its properties. For now, he practised the exercise shown to him by the alchemist, trying to activate its latent magic. Imagining it like a drop inside the root, he tried to connect to it with his own magical talent and pull on it until the magic flowed through every piece of the plant.
Drops of water formed in Martel's hand. He quickly looked up; the last thing he needed while being forced to stand out here was rain. But nothing fell; the sky remained closed. Chiding himself, Martel realised the water in his hand came from his own magic. Like Mistress Rana had warned, he had ended up channelling the elements rather than the supposed magic lying dormant in the plant itself. This would not be easy. At least he had a lot of time ahead with nothing better to do.
***
Yawning, Martel blinked repeatedly. He pulled down the hood of his cloak, allowing the wind to hit his face, helping him stay awake. Mistress Rana's herb was back in his pocket; Martel had grown bored trying to work the necessary magic. He might give it another try once he moved indoors to relieve Flora. He wondered how long he had been standing guard; it felt like hours, but it might have been far less. This late at night, no temple bells rang to announce the passage of time.
A pity he did not have his Khivan clock, though the contraption was far too valuable to lug around. He wondered how small they could be made; just the reduction in size from the astronomical clock in the entrance hall to the small device sitting on his drawer was enormous. Perhaps with the aid of magic, a skilled watchmaker might create them so small, they would fit inside your pocket. They would still be too expensive to risk carrying around, though, either for fear of damage or theft.
Thinking about watches inevitably led Martel's thoughts down a path towards Shadi, and he quickly tried to distract himself. Glancing around for the hundredth time, he looked at the alley that ran on either side of him. Down his right, it eventually reached one of the main streets of the harbour district; lamps illuminated the opening, and even at this hour, Martel noticed people moving past from time to time. Probably drunkards going home, or knaves on unsavoury business. As long as it did not involve Martel, he would not quarrel.
Down his left, the alley twisted and turned to disappear deeper into the array of buildings clustered together. The darkness made it nearly impossible to distinguish much; a cloudy night shaded what little moonlight would be available. On occasion, Martel heard movement, and his ability to sense heat came in useful, letting him know something the size of a cat or small dog was running around. Yawning again, Martel pulled up his hood, tired of the cold wind.
***
A jolt went through Martel as he realised he was nodding off. Had he been sleeping? No, he did not think so. He looked around the alley. Everything was quiet. Not a sign of anyone to his right, down the street. To his left, everything lay in silent darkness. Just to be sure, he sent out his magical sense to look for heat.
A start went through him. Something much bigger than any cat stood around the corner. More than one, in fact, though at this distance, Martel could not tell if he sensed two, three or even more. Especially not as they might be hiding around corners.
Martel did not wish to be the boy who cried 'raider' needlessly, but at the same time, someone skulking in the dark this close – he could think of no benign reasons for it. Making his decision, he went inside the house, closing and bolting the backdoor behind him.
"Marcus," he hissed at the figure sleeping on the ground.
To his credit, the warrior woke immediately. He pulled his blanket off and got on his feet. "Something amiss?"
"People outside. Several of them."
"This better be trouble if you woke me up for it," Marcus grumbled.
"You've seen something too?" Flora's voice reached them even as she appeared at the top of the staircase. "Something suspicious outside as well on the street." As she turned back into the upstairs room, Marcus and Martel followed her.
They crossed the open chamber to stand by the windows, looking through cracks in the shutters.
"Little while ago, a guard patrol crossed by. Now, there's another standing just down the street. Not armed with staves, but spears," Flora explained.
Martel felt dread rising in him. The city guard usually wielded staves when maintaining order, using blunt weapons to knock heads rather than anything sharp. Spears meant they had come to fight without worrying about arrests or prisoners.
"Lots of reasons the guards would be in the docks," Marcus argued. "Might have nothing to do with us."
Martel watched the patrol of legionaries, and something struck him as odd. They usually moved in bands of five, yet he counted seven. Two of the number did not wield the red uniform of the Legio Urbis either.
Opening the shutter a little to allow his magic unimpeded access, Martel extended his senses towards the group down the street. Closing his eyes, he still could not accurately count how many sources of heat met him, but he did not need that either. At the edge of the assembled legionaries, where he ought to feel the warmth of something at least, he sensed nothing. A dead area, a void.
He closed the shutter again and looked at the mercenaries. "They are here for us. Two of them are inquisitors wearing gold. They've come to fight mages."
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