Chapter 478: A New Pact
A New Pact
The harvest festival had come to an end, along with its days of leisure. As the next day was Solday, however, Martel could ease into his return to regular duties. He practised enchantment in the morning in lieu of working his shift in the workshops, and he helped Mistress Rana in the afternoon with her experiments. Other than that, his time was his own.
At least, so he thought until a message arrived for him. For a moment, he felt discomfort at the thought of a missive from 'Harold' – perhaps telling him that the whole ordeal concerning Vitus was not yet over – when he recognised the thin script, like a spider's web.
Master Martel,
I should desire the luxury
of your company tonight.
Our regular haunt should suffice.
During seventh bell, if it pleases.
Your Jester of all trades
Martel frowned a bit, reading these words. Strange to say, but so much had happened over the last five days, he could think of several reasons why the Keeper desired to meet. It could be the death of Lady Pearl, the demise of Vitus, or what had to be the rather frayed state of the Pact.
The Nine Lords had engaged in all but open war against each other. This could only continue, Martel surmised; already, the others had moved in to seize Lady Pearl's territory, such as the gate. Now, the harbour district would be vulnerable from its second change in leadership in a year, and this time, it was a much less orderly transfer of power; the other gangs were bound to capitalise on that, given the importance of the docks to anyone bringing goods in and out of the city.
It made Martel feel a little unwell at the thought of Kerra taking advantage of all his hard work. As her territory lay closest to the piers, she was well-suited to do so.
Regardless, none of it was Martel's problem, but it might be wise to find out what the Keeper wished to say. Information was its own wealth, especially in the criminal underworld, as he had come to understand, and those in poverty did not fare well.
***
The Keeper waited for Martel in the tavern that had hosted their previous meetings. It was always strange to see him in subdued clothing that contrasted with his exuberant personality, especially since he had worn garments suitable for his character the first time Martel had set eyes on him.
"Master wizard, always a pleasure to have your frown looking at me from across my own brow."
Martel sat down opposite him. He had already used his magic to investigate the other patrons for gold weapons. "What do you want?"
"Is it all that schooling which drains the good nature from you mages and leaves you unable to appreciate even simple pleasures like pleasant conversation?"
"No, that honour goes solely to your presence."
"Very well. I have been told that the harbour district is under new leadership, and you played a considerable hand in this."
"Yes."
The Keeper almost looked taken aback. "No denial? Nor an explanation or dare I say, an excuse?"
"No."
"You're really not giving me much to work with here, my good fellow. You understand that bringing about the downfall of a Ninth Lord means you have lost the protection of the Pact?"
"The same Pact which did nothing to prevent Vitus from attempting to assassinate me?" Strictly speaking, Martel had no direct proof that the Night Knives had acted on Vitus' orders. More likely, it had been their own initiative and tacitly approved by Vitus – which to Martel was the same thing, considering in either case, they had wanted him dead.
"If you had brought this to me, or the Friar, we would have taken action on your behalf. You did not have to retaliate on your own."
"Lot of good that would do me if they had succeeded. Face it," Martel said, his voice changing from overbearing to cold. "Your Pact is worthless. It did not protect me, it did nothing for Tibert, and I can't imagine Lady Pearl is particularly impressed either."
For once, any trace of a smile, smirk, or the slightest good humour was gone from the Keeper's face. "It has kept them from engaging in open warfare for many years."
Martel stretched his neck. "No it hasn't. It just forced them to move it deeper into the shadows and be more clever about it."
"Anything that diminishes bloodshed is worthwhile."
Martel regarded the rogue. "Anything that helps you live another day, you mean."
"Well, I simply considered it polite to inform you in person that you can no longer rely on the Pact for protection. Clearly, that means little to you, but all the same, consider yourself informed."
"I appreciate the gesture. Really though, I would prefer if you tell others, including the reason behind." Martel placed his elbows on the table between them, leaning forward. "You see, this is why I handled this matter myself rather than come running to you or the Friar. The Pact didn't keep me safe. But let all of them know what one battlemage did to bring down Vitus. How I hounded his every step, burning down everything he owned. Don't ever let them forget about the fury of a fire-touched wizard."
The Keeper sucked on his teeth. "As you wish."
Martel had not learned anything other than what he could have guessed, but he considered his purpose with the meeting fulfilled. "Thanks for the talk." He got on his feet and left the tavern, nothing further to say.
Outside on the street, he took a deep breath and exhaled before resuming his journey home. Let this be the end of his constant entanglements with the criminal elements of Morcaster. They had taught him many a lesson since his first meeting with Kerra in The Copper Drum more than a year ago; lessons hard-earned and knowledge hard-won, which he did not care to repeat. He owed nothing to any of them, cared for none of them, and needed nothing from them.
He would spend his last couple of months in the city in the company of his friends and the pursuit of magic; not only spells, but alchemy and enchantment as well. He would be a mage, first and last.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l