Chapter 368: The Slow Machinations of Earth
The Slow Machinations of Earth
If Moira had been anything like Master Alastair, or even just Master Fenrick or mistress Rana, Martel would probably have loved learning fire magic at the Lyceum. If he overlooked the reason why he was being taught these spells, Martel felt a joy each time he unleashed the fire in his soul. Like seeing the acrobats perform their feats of dexterity and athleticism during market faires, it came so swiftly and naturally to him.
And all he used it for was burning a ray of fire into the wall. He was so tempted to protest, but the one time he had glanced at Moira with a disgruntled expression on his face, she had immediately barked at him to keep at it. He knew disobedience would simply yield detention, where he would probably be given the exact same task as now or worse, so he continued while trying to distract his mind with thoughts of what he might teach Sparrow.
***
In between his lessons in the Circle of Fire, Martel went in search of further knowledge on the topic of earth magic. Asking Nora had been fruitless; the obvious person to approach might be Master Basil, the Master of Earth. While sometimes reluctant to ask his teachers about anything related to his activities in the city, this particular concern did not hold Martel back for once; students asking teachers about spells seemed innocuous enough. Rather, he feared that old age would claim him long before Master Basil had finished replying.
Master Alastair did not seem a good option either; although the Master of Elements, he was a battlemage by trade and only taught basic elemental magic. Even if he knew any earth spells, they would probably be similar to the elemental bolt he had taught Martel, who was not keen on teaching potentially lethal spells to Sparrow.
Instead, Martel took his inspiration from Eleanor, who had reminded him what he had done in the early days of his stay at the Lyceum; he went to the library in search of a book on the relevant topic.
***
It took a while to find anything useful. The library did not have just a single book containing all useful spells discovered or invented over the years, especially not for a particular element. It had a long list of books on various topics that sometimes delved into the subject or described a spell that might be relevant. Perhaps, with magic being taught by masters and teachers directly to apprentices and acolytes, nobody saw the need for the expensive investment of time and resources it would be to create such a compendium. Or maybe mages preferred to know who was learning their spells, rather than write them down in a book for anyone to read.
In the end, Martel had to spend an hour after supper before he found something useful. A book, written by an earthmage, made references to a defensive spell that used earth magic to protect the caster. Combing through the text, Martel eventually pieced together how it worked. It was similar to the wall of earth that he had seen Flora and other mages raise, though they usually did so to create an obstacle and control the battlefield. This was different. This wizard used it to swiftly raise the earth up in front of himself as a kind of physical shield, while also hardening the earth to make it more like stone, increasing its protective qualities.
Martel frowned as he read this. While he could understand how this worked in theory, he knew this was not a spell he could learn himself. He had nothing of the intuitive control and understanding of the earthen element that this required. He could increase or decrease heat on instinct, but altering the properties of the ground itself seemed beyond his abilities. Of course, he was not the one meant to learn this spell either, but it would be difficult for him to teach it when he did not know how to cast it.
He would have to figure that out, perhaps along the way. It was not like Sparrow had other options; no gifted earthmage sat around waiting for an apprentice to walk through the door. Martel would just have to try his best and do further studies into this kind of magic if need be.
***
Leaving the library, Martel found a message waiting for him. The handwriting looked familiar, which never bode well.
Martel,
I am concerned for you.
For your own sake,
we should talk soon.
Please write back when
you would be able to meet.
Location is up to you.
Flora
He squinted his eyes, wondering what this would be about. Had she heard about the offer made by the Silver Serpent and now wanted to make her own? Except once Martel became a fire acolyte, Flora had given up on making him a Night Knife. Considering they had been at opposite sides in the skirmish at the Four Flagon Tavern, he doubted that the mercenaries wanted anything to do with him.
But they had been comrade-in-arms on several occasions; Martel had even saved Flora's life when an inquisitor had wounded her by stealing a healing elixir. Their fight at the tavern had not been personal as such. If some danger had reared its head, perhaps lingering affection made Flora reach out to warn him. At the very least, he would hear her out without necessarily trusting her.
Back in his room, Martel sat down and quickly crafted a reply.
Very well. Tomorrow, Malday evening.
Sixth bell. The usual tavern across the
square from the Lyceum.
Martel
He considered whether to stipulate that she should come alone, but decided against it. It already seemed implied that this would be a private meeting between just the two of them; if she brought anyone else with her, or if Martel simply noticed another patron who looked suspicious, it might indicate that she had malicious intentions, and he could simply leave.
The note complete, Martel grabbed a penny from his drawer, and another; the missive was going to another district after all. Expensive considering the Imperial post would take a letter to Nordmark for just four pennies, but the Courier's Guild had a monopoly and set their prices as they wished.
Going outside, Martel looked around the square of the Lyceum until he located one of the messenger boys that always loitered around, waiting for work. Waving the boy over, the wizard dug out his letter and two pennies. "For the bridge district. Address is on the other side. Do you need me to read it for you?"
"Of course not, master!" came the almost offended reply. The boy, wearing the courier's emblem that showed a pair of winged shoes, accepted the letter and payment. "Delivery straight away, master, no matter the hour or weather, that's the guild's guarantee!"
Martel watched the boy turn around and sprint away towards east, smiling a little to himself before walking back inside.
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