Firebrand

Bitter Winds Blowing

Martel had a meeting on Solday as well, and unlike yesterday, he looked forward to it; spending an afternoon with Shadi would be a welcome reprieve from inquisitors and crime lords. While they had spent the harvest festival together, it had happened without her father's knowledge. Today, they would not have to worry about that; Master Farhad had given up his reservations. The riots of the summer seemed distant with the war going into hibernation for winter, reducing tensions between Asterians and Khivans; Martel's gift of fifty silvers had probably also made the old watchmaker feel more lenient towards his daughter's friendship with a mage, even if other Khivans disapproved.

But first, he had his regular duties in the workshop. As he arrived, he discovered a strange stench hanging in the air. That in itself was not unusual; given that this place produced almost everything needed by the Lyceum, mundane or magical, the smells of metals on the forge, alchemical reagents, tanned leather, and the like pervaded the area. Martel only found it peculiar because he had never noticed this particular odour before.

Curiously, it grew stronger as Master Jerome entered the main floor of the workshop to put his novices at work. "Yes, I know. I smell. There is a strange block in the waterways of the Lyceum, and trying to untangle it has led to many discoveries, none of which I am keen to dwell on." He rattled off work assignments to the students, who dispersed.

Martel remained, as a question had come to mind. "Master Jerome, will we at some point learn about crafting from you?" While he already studied alchemy under Mistress Rana, or rather apothecary work with the promise that he would also learn alchemy, Martel was intrigued at the thought of enchanting objects or even creating artefacts. It could not hurt to ask, at least.

"Eager, are we? That'll be a while for you. Not until you are an acolyte."

"But my examination is in a month or so," Martel pointed out.

The artificer frowned. "Really? You haven't already been here for two years, have you?"

"Oh no, just the one. But they are letting me take the examination after one year."

Master Jerome scratched his beard. "I see. Well, that means next year you will at least learn about enchanting from me. As for other crafts, that depends. Some mages have the gift to work with metal, and other acolytes show a gift for working with fabric or leather. If you show promise in any such regard, you'll get to learn, I promise."

That sounded fair. "Thanks, master."

"No need to thank me, it's my duty after all. And yours is in the laboratory. We got parchment to make."

~

The wind howled as Martel crossed Morcaster. He wore a scarf to ward himself from the worst of the cold, but he should have brought gloves and a cap as well. His hood did its best to protect his face, but the wind constantly threatened to blow it down, making for an uncomfortable experience. Martel tried to use some magic to counter this, pushing air against the gale. His efforts amounted to nothing; nature proved far stronger than some novice. Accepting defeat, Martel avoided the bigger streets and walked through the alleys south-east where the buildings could shield him from the worst.

This cost him some extra time, but as he had plenty of it, it did not bother him. At length, he reached the Khivan enclave. Few people were on the streets; the locals did not enjoy the weather any more than he did, apparently. He made his way down the main road to reach the watchmaker's workshop.

Shortly after he knocked, Shadi opened the door. Giving him a quick smile, she grabbed her coat and warm clothing, conveniently ready nearby. "I'm leaving, dad!" she yelled back into the house before going outside. A gust of wind immediately made her shiver, and she hurried to bundle up. "Where to?" she asked, looking at him.

"Well, the weather doesn't encourage strolling around. What about a cup of something warm to drink? We could go somewhere for spiced wine," Martel suggested.

"That sounds nice. If I remembered to bring any coin." She patted her pockets.

"Oh, don't worry, I have a few birds." Martel stuck one hand inside his robe just to check that he did indeed have some silver pieces on him.

"Birds," she grinned. "You sound more and more like someone born in Morcaster. Oh, have you ever had Khivan tea?"

"No, I haven't."

"There is a good place not far from here. I can't believe I've never taken you before." She began walking, leading the way. "Let's go, wizard boy!"

~

Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a small tavern of the sort that sold mostly food and a small selection of drinks, including hot tea. "They used to brew tea actually grown in Khiva," Shadi explained. "But obviously, that's been impossible to get since the war. I haven't had any for years. Go on, have a taste."

Martel had tried tea before, usually when sick and his mother would give him some kind of herbal extract. It usually tasted terrible. Cautiously, though he tried to look casual about it, he tasted the warm drink. It had a strange flavour, but he kept his face expressionless and nodded. "I like it," he claimed.

"It comes from Sindhu. Only place they can get tea from these days."

"It's nice." He wondered if that would not make it Sindhian tea rather than Khivan tea, but he kept that observation to himself. Martel took another sip and decided to change topic. "I'm very happy with my clock, by the way. I must be the only person in the entire school who has one."

Shadi grinned. "I'm glad! I think dad really enjoyed the challenge of making it so small. Well, if anyone is envious of you, just tell them where they can get their own."

"I will," he promised with a slight laughter. "Does your father need more work?"

Her expression betrayed her for a brief moment before her words could salvage anything. "He's got some. He's doing fine."

Martel fiddled with his cup. "I don't mind helping if you need."

"No." Her reply came resolutely. "We can't depend on others month after month. Besides, people have been leaving the district over the last few months. Maybe we can find somewhere cheaper to live."

"What about the copper lanes?" While Martel did not like the thought of it, he did have a connection he could make use of if need be.

She gave him a mirthless smile. "Khivans aren't allowed to live in the other districts. There's a reason we are all holed up in this one."

Guess he would not need that connection after all. "That's strange. What a dumb law."

"That's life." She shrugged. "Don't forget to drink your tea before it gets cold."

He hurried to take another sip.