Chapter 428: Warmth and Light
Warmth and Light
With the hope that Sparrow's safety had been ensured, a weight fell from Martel's shoulders. He was able to sleep properly that night, even if his meeting with the Friar remained a pin prick in his side. Not that he doubted the monk's ability to get Sparrow out; for all his apparent frailty, the old man was still a Ninth Lord. His advanced age only made it more impressive that he held such a position, and it spoke to his influence and ability to shape the affairs of Morcaster.
At the same time, that was also the reason for Martel's unease. He had incurred a debt, and someone like the Friar did not retain his position by letting such debts go unpaid. But he would have to cross that bridge once he reached it; Sparrow's life mattered more.
For a moment, Martel wondered if going off to war in some months would end up being a relief; if nothing else, he knew where he stood with the Khivans and what to expect from them. Maybe a bullet fired from ahead was better than a blade in the back.
***
At least with the matter handed over to the Friar, Martel could focus on his spellcraft. Specifically, enchantment. He still had it as a lesson on his schedule every Manday, and he felt that he made progress. Holding a clay jar in his hand, he cautiously entwined his magic with the oil inside. It tethered on the brink of ignition, wanting to unleash its fire, but Martel soothed the desire without quenching it entirely. Placing the lid back on, he withdrew his magic, finishing the spell.
Waiting a few moments, he reached out again; dormant, his magic lay inside the pot, ready to ignite when disturbed.
Martel carefully placed it on the nearby table. He could go to the Circle of Fire and test it like he had done last Manday, but it seemed unnecessary. At some point, it was just a waste of clay. And although he had not brought his Khivan clock, he estimated that it took him at least half an hour to enchant one of these little fire pots; it seemed a shame to destroy it only to confirm what he already knew.
His decision made, Martel picked up the jar again and left the laboratory. He would keep it as a trophy, at least for now; maybe it would come in useful one day, though Martel suddenly noticed a problem with this particular item.
He could not place it in his pockets; someone bumping into him with enough force might break the clay. Certainly, the risk was great in a fight that someone struck him right where he kept the pot. Carrying it around in his hand did not seem useful either; besides how annoying that would be, it also kept him from using a staff to fight with.
Unsure whether these little fire pots would ever actually come in useful, Martel placed the one he had inside his drawer, surrounded by socks.
***
Arriving in the Hall of Elements, Martel did not waste time. "Master Alastair, I have learned how to enchant fire pots. Do you have any suggestions about what I should learn to enchant next?"
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I once worried that if you studied other forms of magic, like Sindhian alchemy, it would make it harder for you to master Asterian magic. But the reverse seems to be the case," the teacher considered. "Master Fenrick remarked you were among the only students who showed promise with Tyrian runes."
"Me and Eleanor," Martel added, wanting her to receive credit as well. "It's been hard sometimes, no doubt, but I think it does help. It feels like the way we understand magic, Asterians, I mean, it's limited."
"Quite possibly, that's true. But I'll leave such questions up to our Master of Lore. As for your question, let me think. There's nothing obvious that you'll need in battle, but a few items might help once you're in camp."
"Such as?"
"Well, you already started on how to create heating stones. While your inner ability with fire might spare you from feeling the worst of the cold, having such a stone in your tent is a nice comfort during winter storms," Master Alastair told him.
"So, I should practise getting better at that?"
"For instance. Another thing that fire enchanters make would be lightstones. They're pretty much what they sound to be. It's not really needed for you – you can always just summon a flame to give you light. But they work better than torches, and any guards around your camp will be happy to have them."
That did sound useful. Also something Martel could make and sell, if he ever needed money. A candle that did not burn out, left no odour, nor carried the risk of starting a fire – plenty would pay well for such an item. And it would make a good present as well, hard even for his wealthy friends to come by; Martel assumed that few enchanters worked with fire, given that anyone with the aptitude for fire would be made into a battlemage. "How do I make them?"
"You more or less know the principle. Same as weaving heat into a stone, except you focus your spell to be bright rather than hot. Ask Master Jerome to provide you with an empty lightstone."
"I will. Thank you, master. Any other ideas?"
"None come to mind. I'll let you know if I think of anything. For now, let's turn our attention on our own spellwork. How's your progress?"
"Not much," Martel admitted. "I've done the exercise, but that manner of precise control… I can't really feel when it slips. Not like you can."
"I do have decades of experience," his teacher reminded him. "And learning enchantment will help hone your precision, coincidentally. Come on, let me see."
Martel nodded, extending his hands to either side. In one, fire came; the other summoned air to circle around his fingers.
"Too much fire."
"Yes, master."
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