Chapter 397: Old Confessions
Old Confessions
While Malday was for lessons in combat magic, Martel spent the bell between studying elemental spells. Though this was not for his own sake; he had Master Alastair to guide him in learning spells. Rather, he went through what he had learned about earth magic that he might teach Sparrow.
The most interesting candidate was a spell called earthen armour, mentioned in more than one book. It raised the earth up to act as a shield, much like the empowerment spell that Martel himself had learned. This variant would be easier for Sparrow to learn, and she might even improve upon it, the way mageknights had a much better shield spell than Martel did thanks to their superior skill with empowerment.
The question remained whether he could teach it to her. As it was not a spell he had learned, he could not really grasp how it felt to cast it; at best, he could read the descriptions and try to explain them to Sparrow. He could draw upon his own experience casting the empowerment shield, but he could not teach Sparrow the way he had been taught. It had taken some particular circumstances that might not work for her. Nor try what Reynard had attempted with him, terrorising a new novice to make him manifest a shield spontaneously. Martel was not going to intimidate a little girl, who had already been through one terrifying ordeal due to a mage, if the maleficar could be called that.
It occurred to him that another spell in his arsenal might resemble this earthen armour much more closely; the elemental counterspell that Master Alastair had taught him. While not intended to provide the same kind of protection, it seemed similar; a quick reaction based on honed instinct to ward off an attack.
Perhaps he could teach her the way he had learned the elemental counterspell; divide it into different parts and have Sparrow practise each step to perfection before continuing to the next.
It would require lots of patience on Sparrow's part, but the girl was eager to learn, after all; given her progress, Martel assumed that she spent plenty of time practising on her own in between his visits. Tomorrow, he would begin teaching her the spell; tonight, he had another appointment.
***
The shrine of Saint Laurentius looked as it had on Martel's previous visits; he assumed the lack of worshippers was due to the Friar requiring privacy. He found the old monk seated on the same bench as last and joined him.
As they both sat, the entrance to the crypt visible in front of them, Martel could not help but remark, "I sincerely hope you haven't had another theft. My days as thief-catcher are behind me."
A chuckle came from the Friar. "No need to worry. The locks have been changed, and a sentinel watches at night. Given the rarity of the Archean wardstones, I doubt we'll suffer another break-in."
"Good." Martel hesitated a moment; even though the Pact protected him, he still wondered who of the Nine Lords had orchestrated the theft, considering that same person had sent the Silver Serpents to assassinate him. "Did you ever learn who was behind it all?"
"No. I assume that Lady Pearl knows, given her access to the only surviving member of the thieving band, but all information is like secrets, really. The more they are shared, the less value they have."
Given that he was on bad terms with that bald woman, Martel doubted she would be inclined to inform him either. He would have to trust in the Pact and otherwise keep his eyes open and his wits about him. "So, what did you wish to talk about?"
"I heard back from the inquisitors who went below ground. But as they are not mages, their perspective is – lacking. I should like to hear from a wizard what you experienced."
"I didn't think you really cared about this. You seemed to have no particular interest in organising this little expedition."
The Friar shrugged. "Hunting down a maleficar has little to do with me, but in some ways, I think of myself as responsible for the spiritual well-being of this city. One of those responsible, anyway. Those are our ancestors in those tombs, their peace disturbed by heathen rituals and ill magic. If I knew how, I would have the catacombs cleansed once and for all."
"It's not an impossible undertaking," Martel claimed. "Enough inquisitors and wizards working together, with clear command and understanding of each other’s strengths – or even just mageknights and battlemages, we train together all the time."
"You may be right, but that would require an allocation of a most rare resource that the Empire needs elsewhere." A smile could be heard in the old monk's tone. "Getting enough inquisitors and wizards to trust each other for such a task, fighting together in the dark tunnels below, surrounded by undead abominations… I fear it is official policy that while the dead do not disturb us, we shall not disturb them either."
That sounded about right. "So, what did you wish to know?"
"Tiberius, leader of the patrol, reported the destruction of a malign artefact. He believed it exerted some kind of power over the undead, noting that they collapsed once the pendant had been broken. Would you agree?"
"Yes. It seemed to lend its power to the particular bearer, who otherwise did not seem different from the other rising skeletons. Furthermore, I felt the distinct presence of magic from it, necromantic in nature. Perhaps it likewise noticed our presence, awakening its otherwise dormant power that it might in turn awaken the dead to attack us," Martel speculated.
The Friar nodded to himself. "If so, that is valuable to have learned."
"Is it really? If there is no will to enter and cleanse the catacombs, does such knowledge matter?"
"Perhaps not yet, perhaps not in this regard. But who knows? Future inquisitors will be taught of this, and they might carry on, continuing deeper than we ever made it." The old monk gave a smile. "At my age, you come to accept that some destinations must be reached by future generations. All you can do at this point is prepare the way."
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