Chapter 415: Rising to the Top
Rising to the Top
Next day, in between lessons, Martel hurried into the city. He walked around for a while, checking some regular places for his quarry. In the end, he found what he was looking for, scurrying along the house walls from one hiding place to another. Moving to intercept, Martel went over and sat down on some crates. "Hullo, Mouse."
A small girl appeared, climbing out from behind a barrel collecting rainwater. "Hullo. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm supposed to be working." She glanced out at the carts and people passing by.
"Do some work for me, and I'll pay you better than what you might grab here."
She walked around to stand in front of him, looking up. "How much? What's the job?"
"Five silvers in advance. Another ten when you're done." Martel could afford to be generous, and he did not mind paying the street children more than was necessary. He untied his purse from his belt and hefted it in his hand.
The girl's eyes widened. "What do you want done?"
"Do you know a man named Ironside?"
"Aye, he runs the market. But Weasel told us we can't steal from him."
He had that much sense, at least. Martel hoped the little chief had stopped exploiting Sparrow's magic for dangerous thefts, but he would have to follow up on that another time. "You won't have to. He has a lieutenant. Short, bald, with pointy ears. Looks like a goblin, really."
Mouse giggled.
"I want you and your friends to find him and trail him. Two days from now, I'll be back here, and I want you to take me to where he is. That's all you have to do. I'll take care of the rest."
"Sounds good!" She stuck out her hand, and Martel counted out five silver pieces.
Normally, Martel would have preferred to handle this matter straight away rather than postpone for a few days; but he knew the street children needed time to find the fellow, and delaying until Solday worked for himself as well. With his little spies put to work, Martel went through the rest of the day, trying not to think more about Ironside.
***
The following Manday proved its usual relief from schemes and the troubles of the outside world. Practising enchantment seemed the very opposite of the fast-paced events that Martel became embroiled with in Morcaster, forcing him to think swiftly and act on instinct. Weaving magic into a dense stone, on the other hand, was the slowest and dullest work that could possibly exist. His only reward was that each time, the spell lasted a little longer. He imagined that soon, he could proceed to the next step.
***
Summoning lightning from his fingertips was more likely to get his blood flowing than enchantment, but Martel was a long way from that. He had only just begun learning the spell, and like any kind of complex spellcraft, it was a slippery eel to catch.
In the Hall of Elements, Martel stood with eyes closed and hands extended to either side. In one, he had summoned a flame; the other had a constant band of air flowing in a loop around it.
"Too much fire," Master Alastair chastised him.
"Yes, master." How his teacher knew, Martel could not say; he adjusted the flow of magic, lessening its stream to his right hand. To be able to cast the spell, he needed to have both elements equally present before he could combine them.
Controlling the release of magic was not only difficult; it felt strange. Normally, Martel just channelled his power as seemed natural, focusing it into a spell and releasing it with one burst. This was closer to enchantment, letting the magic seep out of him, drip by drip. Except it had to be done doubled, keeping two spells active at the same time. It was like concentrating on his own breath, deliberately slowing it down while also blinking; the moment he lost focus or got distracted, natural instincts took over, and the flame in his right hand grew larger.
"Too much fire."
"Yes, master."
Martel knew he could learn this spell. He had figured out everything else the Lyceum had thrown at him. He just needed to stay concentrated. Keep his thoughts from straying. Remain disciplined. His biggest obstacle would be if he let himself become frustrated, which would only make it harder to focus.
"Too much fire."
The acolyte’s response came through gritted teeth. "Yes, master."
***
"Today's elixir is for the blue plague," Mistress Rana explained. "It is perhaps less severe and contagious as other diseases, but all the same, you should know the cure and signs. It resembles bloody flux in that the patient has difficulty retaining water. This leads to symptoms such as skin feeling cold or looking blue, hence the name. Best way to tell the diseases apart is whether blood is present when the patient relieves themselves."
Martel wrote it all down, hoping he never had reason to search through such liquids to diagnose a patient.
"Other than that, it is a simple elixir to make, with mostly common reagents. The only difficulty might be getting a proper attercop. Too small won't do." She picked up a small jar with a large spider inside, shaking it. The creature jumped around inside its glassy prison to no avail. "Careful it doesn't escape when you pour it into the cauldron."
Martel tried to imagine the taste of any potion brewed with a dose of spider. He wondered if having the blue plague would feel worse than the cure. Hopefully, he would never find out.
"Alright, no reason to dally. You know what to do."
He nodded and began picking up all the ingredients laid out for him, paying particular care not to drop the jar. Soon after, everything boiled merrily over fire. Stirring the concoction with the liquid, Martel tried to use the ladle to keep the spider below the surface and out of sight; every time he did so, it floated back up.
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