Chapter 413: Intangible Bonds
Intangible Bonds
The duke's words haunted Martel for the rest of the evening, and it interrupted his sleep at night as well. He had been certain that Cheval had attempted to exact revenge on him. Gathering information about Martel and his exploits, such as his apothecary business in the copper lanes or completing tasks with the Night Knives. Using this information to get Martel into trouble, setting a trap at the docks with the inquisitors; it had to be the duke.
Except Martel had another enemy, the mysterious employer of the Silver Serpents. He had been so convinced of Cheval's guilt, it had never occurred to him to look for another culprit. But it did explain one thing that had bothered Martel about the ambush at the docks. It had been a primitive attempt at catching Martel for a man with the duke's reach and resources.
Furthermore, the inquisitors had not appeared to understand exactly what or who they were up against, underestimating the mages, which allowed them to escape. Nor had the mage hunters seemed to know Martel's identity or to look for him at the Lyceum; the duke knew perfectly well who he was, yet apparently, the inquisitors did not on that fateful night.
Eventually, Martel reached an unpleasant conclusion. The duke had most likely not tried to take vengeance on him, which meant it could still happen. Furthermore, someone had tried to get rid of Martel on several occasions now, and he had no idea who it was.
***
Morning brought no relief; as soon as he woke, Martel felt troubled by last night's realisations. He had assumed the Pact kept him safe from whoever hired the Silver Serpents, but given how persistent someone had tried to remove him, it seemed prudent to find out more.
This all appeared related to his work with the Night Knives; both the attack against Martel done by the Serpents and the ambush at the docks had involved the mercenaries somehow. Perhaps a rival of theirs, wanting to remove Martel as their ally. If this was yet another company of sell-swords, newly arrived in Morcaster, they might not respect or even know about the Pact.
Lessons in the Circle of Fire interrupted Martel's speculations, and he had to spend his bells practising his spellwork. But later in the day, a message for him returned his mind to the matter.
Master Martel,
Tonight at the shrine. Last bell.
A note from the Friar, he surmised; nobody else would mention a shrine without specifying which one. As Martel had another reason to meet with the monk, he would be able to ask him two questions tonight for the price of one.
***
The sun still shone as Martel walked towards the temple district. Although solstice had passed and the days would now get shorter, summer with all its heat still lay ahead. Martel pulled up the sleeves of his robe, revealing he wore no shirt underneath. At least with the festival being over, traffic on the streets was bearable; the pilgrimage to the great temples of Morcaster on Sol's holiest day was massive.
Reaching the shrine, Martel found the old monk waiting for him on the bench, where he joined him. The Friar nodded in quiet greeting, still looking ahead. "Why are we meeting?"
"Did you ever learn who was behind the theft of the relic?" Martel glanced at the crypts in the middle of the temple. "Who hired the Silver Serpents?"
"No. Their small number was wiped out, as you should know better than anyone. The only survivor was taken in by Lady Pearl, at your behest. She is the only one who would know, and she has no reason to trade that knowledge freely."
As Martel had expected. He had originally given up trying to find out who stood behind the Silver Serpent for this reason, not wishing to get further entangled with Lady Pearl; now, it looked to be inevitable. He would have to force a confrontation and trust in the protection of the Pact, or his own powers.
"Is that all? I would not appreciate going through the trouble of meeting for the sake of a simple question."
"No. I have a request."
"Let's hear it."
Martel took a deep breath. "I know the Nine Lords at times make use of northern bards. The wards protecting the convent of the Sisters of the Sun, for instance. If one such skáld is in the city, I should like to hire their services. But it has to be someone with great power, especially in restorative magic."
"If I know of such a person's arrival in Morcaster, you will be informed."
No questions about why; Martel appreciated the discretion.
"But you must understand that this goes beyond our old agreement. We had one arrangement, trading favours. Continuing this creates a bond, which you should be aware of."
"What sort of bond?" asked the young wizard.
"Its weight cannot be measured, nor can its value be counted in coin. It is intangible, born of favours and made of expectations. When others hear of this, they will consider you to be attached to me, which might open some doors, but close others. Furthermore, I will expect that I may call upon you, and should you disappoint me, you shall find all doors closed. Do you understand?"
Nothing for free in the underworld of Morcaster. But if this meant he could help Genevieve – if it allowed Eleanor to save her sister, the way Martel had not been able to save his – he did not mind paying the price. After all, in half a year, he would not even be in the city anymore. "I understand."
The Friar nodded. "I shall let you know if your request can be met. In the future, if you require a meeting, the Grey Brothers tend to a small temple just east of your school. You may leave a message for me there."
The deal was struck; Martel could only hope something came of it. He got up and left the shrine. Outside, night had fallen. Pulling down the sleeves of his robes, shivering slightly in the cold, Martel walked home to the Lyceum. Tomorrow, he would have another Ninth Lord to deal with.
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