Chapter 338: Enchanted Talk
Enchanted Talk
After breakfast, Martel drifted towards the workshops for his regular shift helping Master Jerome. The artificer greeted him jovially as usual. "Your usual spot awaits you," he told Martel with a gesture towards the small laboratory for making ink.
About to continue on his way, a thought occurred to the acolyte, and he turned towards the artificer. "Master Jerome, you enchant objects, right?"
"Indeed, I do. I believe you've asked me that before. Why, do you have a need for hot stones in your bath?" came the laughing response.
"Oh no, I need nothing. I'm just curious. Do you enchant weapons?"
Master Jerome's expression turned quizzical. "I do, for those students who join the legions. Might save someone's life out there. But I don't hand anything out until graduation if you were wondering. That'll have to do until then." He pointed at the knife in Martel's belt; an example of the artificer's craft, though forged without magic.
"Of course." Martel placed one hand above the hilt. "I'm only wondering because I read about monsters and spectres. Like spirits that can't be harmed by ordinary weapons. But enchanted steel might?"
The artificer gave a shrug. "Perhaps. It's not that simple. Enchantment is imbuing a material with a specific property. What kind of spell would you cast to cause harm to a spirit? I wouldn't know how to craft something like that."
"Right."
"You'll learn about this in what, a month or two? When you take your enchantment course with me."
Something Martel looked forward to, both because of the interesting subject and the teacher. Yet he could not let himself get distracted. "What about the inquisitors? Isn't it their task to fight such creatures? They must have weapons to accomplish that."
Master Jerome nodded. "Though I have little positive to say about that lot, you're right. But they use weapons of gold. Equally useful against mages or anything of magical origin." He slapped Martel on the shoulder. "Anyway, I have tasks of my own that await me. I'll come by later to see how you're getting on."
They separated, Martel moving towards the laboratory. He knew that facing the jinni without proper knowledge of how to fight such a creature would be madness, and he had no intention to do so. Still, he could not help but feel some responsibility, knowing about the monster yet doing nothing about it.
Sitting down and getting to work, Martel knew he had to repress that voice making him feel guilty. While his conversation with Master Jerome had been enlightening, it did not change the situation. Given the material, a weapon made of gold would have to be prohibitively expensive. And even if he got his hands on something like that, the jinni still possessed formidable powers, as he had witnessed. With a faint sigh, Martel pushed these considerations from his mind and focused on the task at hand.
***
By the time his tasks in the morning were done, Martel had thought of something else. He could do nothing about the maleficar, but he did have a responsibility towards the victims of the villains; one of them, at any rate. It had been a long time since he had visited Sparrow; the last fivedays had been hectic. While Martel was not officially her teacher, he had nonetheless accepted that responsibility, of sorts; she deserved more attention than he had given her so far. That in mind, Martel left for the copper lanes in the afternoon.
The path was familiar, even if it had been a long while. It made Martel think of the times when he had gone to the slums habitually. Weasel and the urchins, Lothar and the staff fighters, Kerra and all her machinations… not all of it pleasant, but Martel could not deny that the copper lanes had made their impression on him. And reversely, he liked to imagine; he wondered if the people of that district still thought of him as the Copper Mage.
Reaching the house, still looking dilapidated, Martel knocked on the backdoor. One of the children opened and looked at him with wide eyes. "You're back!"
"I am. Is Sparrow around? Ask her to meet me out here, please."
Martel retreated a few steps into the alley and scratched his boot against the stamped dirt beneath his feet. He had no grand designs on how to train Sparrow; he would simply take it one lesson at a time, starting with encouraging her natural talent.
The small girl appeared soon after. "Hullo!"
Hearing her almost enthusiastic greeting, Martel smiled; she had seemed most timid before, which was understandable given her experience with the maleficar. He was glad if her spirit remained undarkened by it. "Hullo, Sparrow. Have you practised your magic?"
She nodded vigorously. Holding out her hand, she scattered some dirt on the ground in every direction. "I don't even have to think about it. It just happens now, immediately."
"That's good. Constant practice is the key. It may feel boring, but magic doesn't come easy."
"Alright. But what else can I learn? While fun, pushing dirt around doesn't really seem useful."
Martel smiled again. "True. My knowledge of earth spells is limited, but first, let's teach you some more control. That'll be the next step before you can do anything else."
"How do I learn that?"
Martel reached out his hand. He did not have any impressive spells related to earth, but he had sufficient control of the element to use it in basic ways. From the ground, Martel raised up the dirt into the shape of a house, much like the one inhabited by Sparrow.
"Oh!" The girl watched with delight on her face. "I can do that too?"
"Eventually. Right now, you're able to push your magic into the earth, make it move. But to really use it, you must learn how to give it shape and keep it restrained according to your will," Martel explained. "Instead of just pushing your magic down, try pulling the ground up towards you. Slowly, focused, no other thoughts in your head."
With a frown and the tip of her tongue sticking out, Sparrow gave it her first try.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l