Chapter 362: Snake Scratches
Snake Scratches
Solday saw the return of a past activity. With his work done in the apothecary and the workshops, Martel made his way to the library in the afternoon. Under his arm, he carried a small stack of parchment, each of them inscribed with a rune, the result of all his work in Master Fenrick's latest class.
Although he arrived just as the bell rang, Eleanor already waited for him by the table on one of the upper floors of the library. Like him, she had her notes from class along with extra parchment and charcoal for further attempts of rune magic. She smiled upon seeing him, and he sat down opposite her.
"I am glad you are here. I tried to practice last night, but it went about as well as it did for me in class. I can feel the magical energy building up, but it does not seem to connect with the symbol as it should. If that makes sense?"
Martel nodded. "It sounds familiar. Like I'm pouring water into a bottle, but I can't control the direction properly, so I miss the opening, and it just spills everywhere."
"That is also one way to describe it," she said with slight laughter. "The question is, how to get this to work? I tried to ask Master Fenrick, but he simply told me to redraw my rune and keep practising. Perhaps that will also be sufficient, but I would prefer having some idea of how to best proceed."
The fire acolyte scratched the back of his head. "I'm not sure, I'll be honest, but we can take advantage of being two rather than one. If you go first, I'll watch what you do, and maybe I'll notice something to help you. After, we switch, and you watch me."
"It is worth a try." She spread out her pieces of parchments and selected one. "I feel like this one has worked best for me." She held out her hand to hover above the rune on the table. "Vara."
A slight silvery glow enveloped her hand, but nothing more. Martel squinted his eyes, but neither his sight nor magical sense told him anything else.
"See?" Eleanor said with a touch of frustration.
"That's how it goes for me as well." Martel quickly leafed through his parchments and found the same rune. He held out his hand and muttered the same word as she had, producing the same effect, but nothing more.
"Wait, is that how yours look?" Eleanor picked up her own parchment to place it next to his, allowing a comparison.
"Huh." Although recognisable as the same symbol, some differences stood out. Eleanor's lines were softer, more rounded, constructing the weird shape that resembled a stick with limbs. In addition, hers had a small extra line that Martel initially thought was a smudge. "Wait, so which of us has done it wrong?"
"I am reasonably sure that I copied it exactly as how Master Fenrick showed it to us."
"Is there someone we can ask to find out?" Martel glanced around the large room, knowing it was probably in vain. Only a few others were present, busy with their own studies; it seemed doubtful that any of them would be an authority on Tyrian runes. The faculty wing did not lie too far from the library; perhaps the only option was to simply find Master Fenrick.
"There should be a book. I used it when I first began looking into the runes, before we started this class."
Of course. Martel had forgotten that. He sat and waited as Eleanor got up and searched through a few shelves until she found it and returned. Placing it for them both to look and leaf through, she quickly found the page showing the rune of warning. They both leaned their heads forward to stare down at the drawing in the tome.
"Huh. I guess we both got it wrong." Martel found some blank parchment and took a piece of charcoal. "Well, we know how to proceed now."
***
Leaving the library to return his notes to his room, Martel's path took him through the entrance hall, where a letter waited for him. Parchment in one hand, he picked it up with the other and examined the envelope as he continued towards the dormitory tower. The letter was addressed to him, but it had no seal on the back, meaning it had not been sent by anyone from a noble house or an official institution or the like. He did not recognise the hand that had written his name on the outside, and he felt more and more curious until he finally reached his room and opened the envelope to read the contents.
Master Martel,
I am a friend in the making, who has observed your recent dealings and exploits with great interest. I possess information, which it would be to your advantage to receive. It is my understanding that you are a satisfied patron of the establishment known as The Golden Goose. I await your arrival there tomorrow night at seventh bell so that we might discuss these matters further. You need not worry about finding me. I shall be sure to recognise you, once you arrive.
As strange as the message was, the most perplexing part was the lack of a signature. Instead, a small insignia had been inscribed, probably made by a signet ring dipped into ink. The symbol was small, but it looked to be a snake coiled around a sword, if Martel were to guess. He had no clue who this might be, but he assumed the message referred to his recent investigation into the stolen relic. A pursuit Martel had abandoned, as it had felt like a waste of his time, and honestly, not his problem to solve.
But if this person had information to shed light upon the matter, it might be worth the meeting. More than that, Martel's curiosity was piqued as to the identity of this mysterious sender. And should this turn out to be a storm in the barrel, the letter had been correct on one count, at least; Martel was always satisfied to patronise The Golden Goose.
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