Firebrand

Sparrowhawk

With Solday came another free afternoon Martel had to take advantage of. He had spent all his coin – an easy feat, since he never had more than a few silvers at a time – and promised the children more supplies, leaving him to his only recourse. After the lunch bell, he went to the workshops.

Master Jerome raised an eyebrow seeing him. "Again? Boy, you better not be gambling."

Martel quickly shook his head. "Not at all. I just need to buy something, not for me."

"Still? Got plans tonight with a special someone, do we?" His eyes twinkled with mirth.

In a way, Martel did, just not how the artificer thought. "I guess."

"I was young once too, I suppose. Come along, I have some materials for ink that needs grinding. Should be a familiar task for an alchemist such as yourself."

~

One bell's work meant one silver piece in hand. Not much, but sufficient for Martel's needs. He only needed a few herbs for his primitive apothecary, as most of the supplies still remained. He could even spare the coppers to mail the letter for his mother by Imperial post, finally.

This accomplished, he went to see his supplier of all things green. "Just a bundle of lungwort, please."

The herbalist raised an eyebrow as he prepared the plants. "More? You have all but cleaned me out now. You must be coughing enough to wake the dead."

As if saying it summoned the disease, Martel felt the rising urge to cough. He did not want to give the old man the satisfaction, not to mention, people looked with suspicion at apothecaries exhibiting even the mildest symptoms, so he suppressed the need and simply handed over payment for the herbs. Only once he had gone down the street and turned a corner did he dare to cough until his lungs felt twisted into a knot.

~

Once they had eaten supper, Martel and Eleanor left the Lyceum together. They took the straight path, directly through the crowds at the market district and past the point where Martel had been accosted the other day by the greasy-looking fellow. He did not feel any need for detours out of safety concerns, with Eleanor's magic and combat prowess added to his own skills. Along the way, she asked many a question about his work, giving him the chance to elaborate on his labours and accomplishments as an apothecary, however simple those might be.

This time, as Martel neared the house with his companion, the children were muted in their response. They did not approach nor raise their voices with a multitude of remarks and questions. Instead, they stared at the young woman who wore expensive clothes, more suitable for a man than a woman, and with a long dagger in her belt.

Martel could not help but laugh a little. After having shown them various remedies and medicines, not to mention different little magic tricks, he had finally brought something to impress them into silence.

~

While Martel replenished the supplies of herbs and did his examinations of the small patients, Eleanor cast a look around the small dwelling, which was quickly done. "Well. It is dry and – nice in here."

Mouse stared up at her. "Are you a messenger of Sol?"

"What?"

"Nah, she's just rich," remarked another kid. "Easy to look good when you can afford fine clothes and never have to work."

"You smell nice. Like the flowers at market, not the kind that grows here," Mouse clarified.

"Oh, thank you. In a way, you are right. It is perfume I buy at the market," Eleanor explained.

The small girl looked as if the wonders of the world were being revealed to her. She inhaled deeply through her nose. "What flower smells like that?"

"Those are lilies," Martel remarked with an absent mind, probing a fresh bruise on an arm belonging to a boy named Rabbit. "But on some days, she wears lavender."

Mouse looked from the apothecary to the acolyte, seeking verification. Eleanor nodded. "He is right, though one might wonder why he takes note of such things."

"He's smart," Mouse said with authority. "He knows all sorts of things."

The two girls, one about ten years older than the other, looked at Martel, who sat with his ear against Squirrel's chest to listen how the boy breathed.

"Keep drinking the tea," Martel encouraged the urchin, mostly because he had no other advice. He would have to ask the nurses for guidance, or perhaps he could find a way to question Mistress Rana for a solution without revealing his reasons.

The consultation done, Martel delighted the children with a few summoned flames and other tricks.

After a while, the door burst open to reveal Weasel. He glanced from Martel to Eleanor. "If you won't charge to see people, fine. But if you are going to bring people here to gawk at us like we are a travelling show, you can bet I will be charging them."

"Eleanor is my friend. I assumed she would be welcome here, as I am."

The mageknight looked down at the young boy. "And you, you are the – proprietor of this place?"

Something between a sneer and a smile played at Weasel's mouth. "You could say that. Anyway, I need a favour."

Martel crossed his arms. "You have the strangest way of softening someone up before you ask them for a favour."

"Yeah, I'm not too fussed. This is exactly the kind of thing you'll want to do."

The novice was tempted not to ask, but he could not help himself. "What is it?"

The little chief looked at the two mages. "Your magic, can it be used to find a person?"

Martel and Eleanor exchanged glances, and they both shook their heads. "No, not the kind we learn. Why?"

Weasel's clenched expression softened a bit. "Sparrow left this morning, and nobody has seen her since. We checked with the guards, and they didn't nick her. She has nowhere else to go but here. I think – I think someone took her."