Chapter 430: Below Luna's Light
Below Luna's Light
The next couple of days passed without noteworthy events until Glunday arrived along with Martel's trip with Mistress Rana, replacing their usual Solday foray. As they would be out late to make the most of the moonlight, he did not have to be ready straight after first bell for once; instead, they would wait for dinner and only leave past noon.
Making the most of his free morning, Martel went to the workshops and checked on the heating stone that he practised enchantment on. Improvement was slow, but steady; it was a dull skill to learn compared to some of the breakthroughs he had experienced, especially with elemental magic, but at least progress was reliable. It also encouraged him that he could measure his improvement; after every time, the spell he wove into the stone lasted longer and burned hotter.
***
Having spent the early hours productively, Martel had his dinner and went to meet Mistress Rana outside the infirmary gate. She was already there with the donkey, packing the bags slung over its back. "Ready?"
"Yes, mistress."
With no further words, they left.
***
Once beyond the walls of Morcaster, traffic lessened; they mostly met carts driven by peddlers, the occasional regiment of legionaries, or sometimes pilgrims making the journey to Sol's great temple. Feeling bold, Martel ventured a question aimed at the tight-lipped alchemist walking on the other side of the donkey. "Mistress Rana, what is Sindhu like?"
"Different." For a moment, Martel thought that was the only answer he would receive until she spoke again. "As all with magical talent turn towards alchemy, you will find it everywhere. It is not only used for diseases or such. On hot days, those working in the sun will take a potion to stay cool. A watchman with a long night ahead might have an elixir that keeps him alert and awake."
"You must have recipes to brew just about anything," Martel speculated.
"That is often the impression among ordinary people, but if you ask any Sindhian alchemist, they will lament everything we have yet to figure out." She wore a sarcastic smile. "This is not helped by the rivalry of the Towers. Knowledge is guarded so jealously, two of these Towers may very well be pursuing the same study, each expending the same effort rather than working together."
"Sorry, what towers?"
"You would call them guilds, I suppose. Alchemists in Sindhu are organised in this manner after the five great towers of Pataliputra."
"You belong to one of these?"
"I do. They patronised my journey to Aster and continue to support me, supplying me with reagents otherwise impossible to obtain in these lands," she clarified.
Martel's thoughts went to her laboratory, filled with the oddest jars and bottles. He remembered how the berserker had wanted to sell Regnar to Sindhian alchemists to be butchered like a pig for his innards.
They continued in silence.
***
Reaching the marshlands, Mistress Rana handed over a list along with a sickle. "We are not fortunate with the moon's position tonight," she remarked, looking up at the sky. "It will only be a few hours after the sun has set before the moon sets as well. For now, look for the herbs at the top of your list."
Martel glanced over the parchment and saw the herbs had been divided above and below a line.
"Those are fairly mundane. Gather what you can. Those below, however, if you come across any – wait until the full light of the moon shines, and only that light."
"Yes, mistress." He frowned. "Anything I should do different? When harvesting the plants."
"The procedure is the same." She looked up again. "Come back when it's close to sunset. We shall eat our provisions then."
Bowing his head, Martel went off in search of his quarry.
***
Unsure what to expect, the acolyte waited with growing excitement for when the sun would set, so only the moon shone down upon the marshlands. When it finally happened, he did not feel any different; if the light of the full moon affected his magic, he lacked the sensitivity to tell the difference.
Walking over to a cluster of herbs on the lower part of his list, Martel knelt down and reached out to touch the stem. As soon as he drew upon the magic inside the plant, it responded; the yellow flower became a deep red.
A clear difference from his previous outings, and Martel saw what power the moonlight held. He also found it interesting that while he, a wizard, personally could not tell the difference, something as simple as this herb responded to the moon with such force. He wondered if being accustomed to using magic dulled his sense; it reminded him of the riddle of three as told by the Friar, and the advice of the last sage to only use magic when needed.
With a quick cut from his sickle, Martel harvested the plant and continued to the next while his mind wandered among musings on the nature of magic.
***
It was a late hour when they began the return journey; thankfully, tomorrow was Manday, where he might dispose of his morning as he had today. He could sleep in if needed.
"How long until you graduate, boy?"
The sudden question caught Martel off guard. "Uh, sometime in winter. Four to five months, I'd say."
She nodded to herself. "You won't exactly be a master alchemist, but that's enough time to finish your basic training, I suppose. With this herblore, there's little left to show you of the foundation. Whether you can build upon it is up to you."
Martel doubted he would have many opportunities for it, stuck in an army camp; just getting reagents would be difficult. But he would try. "Is that why you left Sindhu, mistress? To build upon your foundation."
She gave a tight-lipped smile before replying. "Yes. Everyone in Sindhu has access to the same ingredients. There seemed little left that could be learned. New lands offer new opportunities."
"Your Tower agrees, I take it, if they support your efforts."
"Of course."
"They don't mind that you work for the Lyceum at the same time?"
She gave a shrug. "Compromises are sometimes needed. Without that position, I'm a Sindhian woman claiming to be an alchemist. For any of those reasons, I might be met with distrust. Yet as Mistress of Alchemy at the Lyceum, I am afforded respect that few others of my homeland are given."
Martel suspected she was right. Ahead of them, the walls of Morcaster loomed.
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