Firebrand

Quandaries as Posed by an Urchin

Knowing that Maximilian could be prickly in the mornings, Martel waited until lunch the next day. Once the mageknight was busy with his second portion, looking satisfied, the novice broached the subject. "Max, I know that I already owe you money, and I haven't forgotten. But I received a letter that my brother is sick, and my mum needs money for his medicine. Any chance you can lend me some?"

"That is an intense question, Nordmark. Of course I will help, but it is middle of the month. Bad time to ask." He fumbled around in his pockets. "This is pretty much what I have." He managed to find four silver pieces and roll them onto the table towards Martel. "If you can wait until the first of the month, I can lend you some more. But do not make me ask my father. He is still sore about the gold he paid for those rune-marked arrows."

Martel carefully picked up the coins. It would be a couple of fivedays before next month; he did not intend to take that long. And he definitely saw no reason to involve the count of Marche or anyone else of such status. "This is fine, thank you. I will pay you back when I can!"

Maximilian made a casual gesture, mumbling something before finishing up his meal.

~

Martel's current wealth now sat at six eagles. After using pleading eyes on Master Jerome and spending two hours in the workshops, doing gruelling work by cleaning grimy tools, he had seven.

Still some way from his goal, but a decent start. As the artificer had no other work to offer Martel, he left the castle to handle something else entirely. If he had read his lunar charts correctly, tonight was another full moon. After his failed attempt in the copper lanes and disastrous attempt in the catacombs, Martel had no designs on pursuing the maleficar. As much as he disliked admitting it, catching someone like that would require the kind of numbers and persistent effort that the inquisitors could marshal, unlike a novice. But with no other work presenting itself, he had the time to go and warn his little friends of the potential danger lurking this night.

As he entered the house giving roof to Weasel and his band, Martel was met by the small chief himself. "You got my coin?"

"Not yet, but –"

"I should have known," Weasel interjected, following up with a groan. "The one time I do something nice, I am punished for it. I expected better from a wizard. Didn't I tell you only to come around if you had the money?"

Martel could not remember if that were the case, but regardless, he had a good reason. "My brother is sick. I have to get the money for his medicine first. I'll pay you what I owe as soon as I can."

The little chief eyed him suspiciously. "If this is some sob story you're conjuring up –"

"It's not," Martel quickly said.

"Well, if you ain't got silver in your pocket, what are you doing here?"

The other children looked at him with expectant faces.

"Tonight is the full moon. I just came to warn you. The killer is still on the loose, and tonight might be when he would strike."

The children's expressions turned frightened, and some of them even ran away from the common room, scurrying up the stairs.

"We can see the moon just as well as you can," Weasel grumbled. "I shouldn't be surprised that madman is still roaming the streets. Looks like inquisitors are no better than city guards at doing their job."

"Not for lack of trying, I guess." While Martel was loath to praise the inquisitors for anything, he had to admit they had put in effort searching the streets. Even below them. "They think he might be hiding in the sewers. Any of you ever go there?"

"Not since we came here," Badger explained. "No sewers in the copper lanes."

"But they make for good hiding places elsewhere, like the market, when you grab something and you're on the run," another child added. "Even if they see where you went, nobody likes to follow you down there. Doesn't agree with their noses." She grinned.

"So, you know where the entrances are?" Martel asked. While he had no plans to return below, he was intrigued how the urchins reached the place. Martel had found some hatches when he was down there, but they had all been impossible for him to open. Either something stood on top of them to block them, or they were locked from above. Probably to keep people from running around in the sewers.

"Just a few. Most of them are closed off, but there's one at the square with the big statue," Mouse related. "I used that a few times."

"Most of the squares have statues," Badger told her in an overbearing voice.

"Never mind. Just beware of the place. It is not safe," Martel cautioned them. Especially not if one stumbled into the catacombs, though he saw no reason to frighten the children further. The threat of the maleficar alone should be enough to keep them topside. No need to give them nightmares of undead abominations with fingers as sharp as razors.

Weasel regarded him with a smile that could be described as contemptuous. "Is that what you did in the sewers? Trudging around filth to find some deranged wizard?"

"That's one way to put it."

"All that trouble and for nothing."

"It was worth a try," Martel argued, feeling defensive that his good intentions were being denigrated. "If I had found him, dealt with him, everyone would sleep more soundly at night."

"Oh yeah?" Weasel gave him a challenging look. "And now that your brother needs help, what is everyone doing for you? What has playing hero gotten you when it truly counts?"

Martel had no good answer to that.