Chapter 584: Critters of the City
Critters of the City
The hour was late when Martel, worn out after a long celebration, could finally stumble into bed. Despite this, he woke so early the sun had yet to rise. A look at his Khivan clock told him breakfast was at least an hour away. Unwilling to lie sleepless in bed for that long, he got up, washed and dressed himself, and left his room. He made his way to the kitchens, where familiar sounds and smells told him of work underway to feed the household.
As he entered, the kitchen servants all froze and stared at him. "Oh, sorry for interrupting. I know breakfast won't be ready any time soon, but I figured I'd leave the house early. Do you have anything to spare I can just grab? Some bread, cheese, cold meats?"
"We have the porridge that we ate for our breakfast," said the woman who Martel assumed was the cook. "If that'll do for a warm meal. It's simple fare, good master, for simple folk."
"I'm sure it's vastly better than what I eat each morning in camp," Martel assured her. "I'd be more than happy with that."
The woman filled a bowl with porridge and placed it on the table in the middle of the room along with a spoon. Smiling in gratitude, Martel sat down. He used a bit of magic to heat up the porridge from being tepid and began to eat.
A kitchen girl of some twelve years, holding a knife and a potato in her hands, stared at him. "Are you the wizard who fought all those knights yesterday?"
"Alyssa! Do not bother the guest."
"It's fine," Martel told her. "I fought three of them, if that's what you mean."
"But you're sitting here, eating in the kitchens like we do. So aren't you noble like them?"
Martel shook his head, busy shovelling food into his mouth.
"Why are you allowed that? Once, I ran into a nobleman, and even though it didn't hurt him none, I still got slapped for it."
"Alyssa! Focus on your potatoes!"
Martel finished up his meal and looked at the girl. "Some are commoners, some are nobles. I'm a mage, and that puts me somewhere in between, I guess."
***
Afterwards, Martel collected his warm clothing, and left the house. He set a course towards the centre of the city, though he walked past the Lyceum this time and continued to the market district. Even in winter, stalls and vendors filled the squares and streets between. Many of them hawked their goods at Martel, though he ignored them for now; he had another errand in mind before making any purchases. Thus, he walked onwards until he reached The Golden Goose.
Inside, the place was quiet. The staff sat at the different tables, eating their breakfast. That included the resident acting troupe, and when they recognised Martel, they waved eagerly and greeted him. Martel smiled in response as his gaze fell on each of them, from the young boy, Ian, to the storytellers and actors before finally reaching Regnar. The hedge mage got on his feet and threw out his arms. "Martel, champion of our theatre!" After they embraced, he gestured towards the table. "Please, join us!"
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"I have eaten already, and I only came to briefly speak with you." He looked towards the others. "But I promise I shall return another time, and we can all enjoy ourselves together."
"Consider me curious," Regnar admitted with an expression that matched his words. He looked at the others. "If you'll pardon us, the mages have great and secret things to discuss," he declared dramatically. Together, the two mages sat down at another table. "Good to see you, lad. What's on your mind?"
"I just wanted the lay of the land in Morcaster. Specifically the underworld. Anything I should worry about?"
Regnar scratched the back of his head. "Surprisingly, things have been rather quiet since you left. Or perhaps the two are connected," he added with a sly smile. "The new master of the harbour keeps to herself, mostly just trying to keep order within her own ranks. I guess she learned from her predecessors." He gave Martel a pointed look.
The young wizard shrugged. Vitus was the one who had picked a fight with him.
"There's also a new fellow in the bridge district, though not with the same heft that Lady Pearl had. Ironside's got free use of the bridge gates, leaving him happy."
"What about the copper lanes?"
"Kerra has that locked down tight as ever. Why?"
Martel shook his head. "No particular reason. I don't intend to tangle with any of them. I just wanted to be sure I wasn't walking into a spider's web."
Regnar's sly smile returned. "And here I thought the Firebrand was planning his next move."
"The who?"
"That's you, isn't it? The details of the story fit. Fire-touched battlemage in the house of Legate Fontaine? That's the girly you are friends with. I know how to put two and two together."
"How did you hear about that? It only happened last evening!"
"Exactly. Rumour has had all night to spread. Plenty of time. Why do you seem upset?"
"It's just a ridiculous nickname, that's all. It doesn't even make sense. A firebrand has nothing to do with actual fire."
Regnar shrugged. "Who cares? As long as it sounds good."
In Martel's opinion, it did not.
***
Martel took his leave from The Golden Goose and returned to the marketplace. With plenty of coin in his pocket, he made a spree of purchases. Lots of food, but also woollen socks and caps, along with scarves; lastly, he bought various medicinal herbs. His bag full and slung over his shoulder, Martel left the market district and went to the copper lanes.
Everything looked the same, neither better nor worse. Few people were on the streets, given the season, though the old houses of the district provided little relief from the cold. Taking the same route he had traversed dozens of times, Martel went to the home of Weasel and his gang.
The backdoor burst open as the children saw him coming down the alley. Despite the cold, several of them rushed outside, walking on the snow in bare feet. Martel hurried to walk inside, more for their sake than his own, compelling them to follow him back in. The clamour of their questions surrounded him, especially concerning the contents of his bag. Laughing, he satisfied their curiosity by emptying everything onto the crooked table in the room.
The children shrieked in joy, but they maintained discipline. The eldest of them sorted out the different items by type and began distributing according to need.
From the upper floor, Weasel appeared. Their eyes briefly met before Martel continued to look around, making observations of everything in the room. It troubled him to notice that the children did not appear to have grown much, even though a year had passed since he last saw them.
The little chief came down the stairs and approached Martel. "You're different."
"How so?" Around them, the children began eating; some of them brushed away the melting snow from their feet before they put the new socks on.
"You look over your shoulder now. You watch the shadows. One might almost take you for a child of the copper lanes." Wiesel looked up at the mage with an expression he could not read.
"Where is Sparrow?" Martel had seen no sign of his erstwhile apprentice.
"She's out doing a job. Won't be back tonight. I'll tell her you stopped by."
Martel looked at the other children, gauging their response. None of them seemed perturbed, suggesting Weasel was telling the truth. His eyes fell on the large rock he had once enchanted for the children. "How about I provide you with a little heat? And this one will last longer than winter, probably years. I've gotten better." Martel winked at the children, who made various outbursts of delight. Sitting down, Martel began weaving an enchantment.
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