Chapter 380: Grey Brothers
Grey Brothers
Moira's lessons on Manday saw a repeat of practising with or against golden weapons. It was not terribly different compared to fighting an opponent armed with an ordinary dagger. It really only required two adjustments. The shield spell being ineffective, you had to keep distance to your enemy; and you had to direct your spells elsewhere than the torso, otherwise the easiest place to land a spell, as the gold on the dagger might intercept and nullify the attack.
Having faced plenty of enemies using gold against him, who had also tried their best to kill him, Martel found it rather easy to duel against the comparatively timid fire acolytes. He knew to direct his spells at other parts of the body and otherwise continued to avoid and dodge the blade. If he had been given a staff to fight with, the latter would not even be necessary; he felt confident he could simply knock the weapon out of the other person's hand.
That said, Martel never saw a reason to complain if his lessons in fire magic were easy. At least he could move around and bury his attacks, unlike previous fivedays, mindlessly blasting fire rays into the wall. Even if he had to admit, when faced with the islander on the street, the spell had certainly become more potent.
***
A message yesterday from the Keeper had told Martel of the plan for tonight; or at least, the appointed hour of their departure. Martel did not know much else other than their destination had to be the residence of House Thierry, where a celebration was taking place, which they would attend in disguises. While not particularly comfortable with sneaking around this way, Martel was mostly concerned about that last point. Knowing the attire favoured by the Keeper, Martel dared not guess what he considered a suitable disguise.
Leaving the Lyceum, Martel glanced around at the square. The usual vendors crowded at the edges, and the occasional citizen or cart crossed it. No sign of his companion for the evening.
Resigned to waiting, Martel leaned against the castle wall, idly glancing in different directions. A cart loaded with barrels and driven by a monk approached, and to his surprise, the wagon halted in front of him. Looking at the driver, he recognised the Keeper in a completely ordinary, undyed robe of grey wool.
"Climb aboard, good master. In the back, if you please." Martel followed the instructions, making his way up between the barrels. "There's a robe for you as well, though you may wait with changing clothes until we are out of sight. Just in case any of your acquaintances from your school wonders why you are getting undressed in the back of a cart driven by a monk." The Keeper laughed to himself and set the cart into motion.
"We are going to a celebration at a noble family's house, right? Won’t two monks stick out?"
"Not among the other dozen," his driver snorted. "One of the little brats in their family has had a naming ceremony today. They did it this morning at the convent of the Grey Brothers, who are therefore invited to the feast. You and I are bringing a gift of wine for the celebration, giving us cause to enter. Once inside, we can search around without anyone questioning our presence."
Grey Brothers – a rather practical name for a religious group. Apparently, women of the cloth were more imaginative when it came to names. Though given how wizards did it, Martel was in no position to criticise. "You mean I'll search around," he corrected the Keeper.
"Yes, yes, you're the ship bringing us ashore, and I'm just a sailor."
The Lyceum disappearing in the distance behind them, Martel pulled his red robe off to put his disguise on. The home of House Thierry awaited.
***
Driving through the nobles' quarter, they eventually reached a mansion that looked like most of them; certainly grand and opulent compared to any building in the districts south of here, but not on the scale of the home belonging to the duke of Cheval. They went to the backyard, where servants could receive the barrels of wine brought for the celebration. After making sure his red robes were well concealed, Martel and the Keeper left the cart and entered the stately home.
Arriving through the back, Martel did not have the same experience as when he attended the celebrations for solstice in this quarter. Instead of statues and painted walls, they passed through the servants' quarters. The smell of food from the kitchens filled the air; as for the scent of magic, nothing piqued Martel's sense.
"Any suggestion on where to go?" Martel asked, making sure his grey hood covered as much of his face as possible.
"I've never been here before, but a few things tend to be the same in all these houses. Servants downstairs, masters upstairs. If the relic is here, I assume they'd keep it close."
"So, we try to make our way up without anyone noticing us," the wizard muttered. Should someone like a guard stop them, he hoped that the Keeper would be able to spin a lie on the spot; that seemed like something in his repertoire. Though come to think of it, when that had happened outside of Lady Pearl's bedroom to Martel, the Keeper had not been much help.
As it turned out, despite any claimed similarities, finding a route that led them to the upper floors without attracting attention proved a challenge. Guests, guards, and servants filled most of the hallways. The only saving grace proved to be that none seemed interested in talking to a pair of monks; nobody approached or spoke to them as they filed through the corridors.
Martel suddenly stopped, reaching out to grab his companion's arm. It almost felt like his skin tingled. Amidst the countless sources of heat from the many people or even just trays of cooked meat being carried around, Martel sensed something else.
"What is it?"
"I can't say. But there's something here."
"Which direction?"
"I can't say that either," Martel admitted. He looked down the hallway, where sounds emanated. "Could be that way."
"I doubt they'd hide stolen goods in their great hall, but you're the one with the nose."
"I'm not a dog. And I'm not sure either."
"Well, let's find out." They set into motion, approaching the centre of the festivities.
***
The celebration was in full bloom. Guests in silk and jewellery ate and drank while music played. All that resembled any other feast Martel had attended on marbled floors, though he did notice something different. A troupe of dancing girls, dressed as modestly as those working The River Pearl, who entertained the crowd of nobles with their moves.
As enticing as they looked, Martel felt too uncomfortable to pay them heed, wearing a stranger's robe while inside a place most likely hostile to him. If someone from House Thierry had worked with the Silver Serpents to steal the relic, they might have known or even ordered the attempt on his life. The sooner this was over, the better. Martel extended his magic to learn what he could.
Countless flashes of heat met him. To be expected in a hall full of people. But something else. Intangible. Martel glanced around, trying to learn what he could. Finally, his eyes fell upon a woman.
She was pale as snow, accentuated by dark red lips and other cosmetics, presumably. Like any guest, she wore expensive clothes and plenty of jewels. She even looked familiar to Martel, though he could not place her. His interest was not drawn by her face, at any rate, but the necklace around her neck and the sash around her waist. They both shimmered with power.
Most guests wore gold; both Martel's sight and his sense of magic told him as much. This woman wore enchanted items, though he could not discern their purpose.
As if his eyes had drawn hers, she looked up and stared straight at Martel. Feeling caught, he quickly turned around and approached the Keeper, who had strayed a little to watch the dancing show. "Aren't you supposed to be a monk?" Martel asked in chastisement.
The rogue shrugged. "Monks are human too."
The wizard chose to ignore that. "The pale woman behind us, do you know her?"
The Keeper gave a discreet glance. "Certainly. The Comtesse. The Ninth Lord claiming ownership of this quarter. I suppose it's not strange she would appear. That does confirm her ties to House Thierry. Best you avoid her – she might recognise you from the Undercroft."
Perhaps too late for that. Regardless, her artefacts were not the relic; given how strongly he had felt its presence at the shrine, Martel assumed that he would have recognised it by now, should it be in the great hall. "Nothing here. Let's look elsewhere."
The Keeper nodded, and they quickly left the celebration. "Let's go towards the entrance hall. There should be stairs around there leading up. If need be, I'll create a distraction."
Having no better plan, Martel followed, and the pair of fake monks walked through the mansion towards the entrance hall. Even at this hour, new guests still arrived.
Martel felt it. The first inkling came so subtly, he barely noticed. But every step towards the great doors leading to the front yard reinforced it. Like the scent of lilies in his nose, except he sensed it through his magic. The relic.
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