Chapter 450: Hornets
Hornets
As always, it felt jarring to go from brawls and devastating spells in the night to attending classes in the morning; though at this point, Martel had switched between these masks so often, he could do it seamlessly. Malday also made it easy for him, as the morning lesson never provided him with much of a challenge; none of the other fire acolytes stood a chance against him when fighting purely with staves and empowerment. This allowed Martel to put in a token effort while his mind was elsewhere.
While the Lyceum provided him a safe refuge from any troubles in the city, it also isolated him. If matters escalated because of what had transpired last night, he might not discover how until someone stabbed him on the street for it.
At best, he might receive a warning from one of his acquaintances, should he be in danger, but Martel could not rely on that. These people would only do something for him if they stood to gain from it themselves; Ruby might be an exception, but he could not even be certain of that. They had been on the same side recently, but her loyalty lay with her mistress, not Martel.
There was only one person connected to the city and its underworld that he might consider a friend. Once his lessons were done, Martel would head to The Golden Goose.
***
Martel arrived late to the tavern, since Regnar would not be available until the evening performance was done. This also meant a late return to the Lyceum, and he was already low on sleep, but he would have to muddle through tomorrow morning's lessons as best he could. At least in the legions, he would not have early classes anymore, though they probably had some other horrors scheduled for those hours.
He politely applauded as the play ended; one of their comedies that Martel had never really found that funny. He waited a while until the commotion had ended with patrons resuming their drinking and chatter. The actors cleared up the stage and disappeared into their lodgings.
Martel followed after, exchanging greetings as he came across them in the corridors. Reaching Regnar's door, he gave a knock.
From inside the chamber, a voice spoke. "Theo, you can't expect an old man to lift anything! Just climbing on top of the stage kills my back!"
"It's me. Martel."
The door was opened. "Well, my point stands." The hedge mage nodded for him to enter. "What's amiss to bring you here?"
Martel waited until the door was closed. "This will take a bit of explanation. Did you hear about trouble in the Khivan quarter? At the construction yard, where they're building an insula."
"Some rumblings, I suppose. I didn't pay attention. Why?"
"It was an attempt by a rather loose alliance of the underworld's finest, trying to halt the construction," Martel explained. "It failed, as someone revealed their plan beforehand. One of my – associates from the bridge district tried to chase down the leak, only to find herself ambushed last night. Down by the docks."
Regnar raised an eyebrow. "And you're telling me this…?"
"You're right on the edge between the harbour and the market. I wondered if you'd heard about it."
"Not that either."
"I suppose it was unlikely," Martel admitted. "But would you keep an ear to the ground for me?"
"Sure. But for what exactly?"
"Well, my friend escaped, but mostly thanks to me. I was there as well, and it took a few spells to get us out."
"Ah. Now you get to the point of it." The hedge mage stroked his chin. "Spells that people would notice?"
"A wall of flames ten feet tall, in the middle of the night."
"Right. That'll definitely spread. Nothing gets rumours going faster than when magic's involved. But if you know the events, why do you want me to listen to gossip?"
"To find out if or when they figure out it was me. Also, I have no idea who they were. We fled rather than hang around."
"So you'd like to know if they're coming after you, and if so, who they actually are."
"Yes. I don't think they're some minor street gang, hired for this task. It required a touch of finesse, not just brute force. It would probably be someone already involved with what went down in the Khivan quarter – they probably work directly for whoever interfered that night."
"That's all you can give me?"
"They also used a man from the copper lanes, both for information and as bait. Low rank, just a messenger. I don't know if it means Kerra herself is behind it, or her lieutenant, Vernon. The fellow might have had gambling debts – that's why he was at the harbour."
"Curious he'd leave his own district for that particular vice."
Martel nodded. "Agreed. This feels bigger than the usual games played by the Nine Lords. There's a lot of them involved, and they're quick with resorting to bloodshed. Not much subtlety in this."
"As if they're less worried about discovery, as long as they get results," Regnar considered. "This feels like a nest of hornets, my boy."
"It is. But my hand's already stuck down there. If they're going to sting me, I'd like to know in advance."
"I'll ask around," the hedge mage promised. "You should stay inside your castle for the time being."
"Probably. Thanks, Regnar. You're really the only person I could ask."
"Of course. A drink before you leave?"
Martel shook his head. "Already had a late night yestereve. I should get back. Classes and whatnot in the morning."
"I wouldn't know," Regnar replied with a wry grin. "No such thing in the life of a hedge mage."
"Lucky you." If not for the fact that payment for his tuition would be exacted from his family, Martel would seriously have considered becoming a hedge mage himself in this moment. Instead, he just patted the old man on the arm in farewell and left.
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