Firebrand

Counting Coins

Although doing arithmetic before breakfast felt like torture, Martel persevered. After saying goodbye to Shadi, various thoughts of earning money had rummaged around his head without reaching any conclusion. He had still been thinking about it when he went to bed, and it crossed his mind as soon as he woke up. Thus, wearing just his nightshirt, he sat by his desk trying to do calculations.

Martel had never been on good terms with mathematics. Father Julius had taught him how to count along with simple addition and subtraction, but otherwise focused on teaching him his letters with the assumption that Martel might become a scribe or other such associated profession. Now, the novice faced an enemy that proved frustrating and slippery, namely division.

In a fiveday, he had four bells available to work for Master Jerome. That meant four birds a fiveday, and he needed fifty. So it would take him… Martel almost went cross-eyed trying to figure it out. He could simply show Eleanor, and with a glance, she would give him his answer, but that felt like admitting defeat. Biting his tongue, Martel calculated like he had never calculated before.

Four silvers. He needed to reach fifty. That would take him one-hundred and twelve… Wait. That felt wrong. That sounded like years. Martel tried again. Finally, he reached an answer that felt correct. It would take him twelve to thirteen fivedays working for Master Jerome to gather the silver that Shadi needed.

Martel's joy at having solved his calculations quickly evaporated, as he realised what the answer meant. Shadi had need of this money in a month's time, and it would take him twice as long to earn it.

He had to consider other options. Mistress Rana had paid him twice as much as Master Jerome, and even if such sumptuous wages had been a temporary generosity given the unusual circumstances of that day, Martel still did work for her every morning. If he could be paid for that, it would help. However, he had already strained her goodwill with his last attempt at helping others, and asking her for favours straight after felt like poor timing.

What else could he do? He needed to do skilled work in order to earn the coin fast enough. But neither of his skills seemed useful. He could definitely not run another apothecary, straight after he had been told to shut down his last one; besides, the only people who would trust a sixteen-year-old as their healer would be those so desperate that they could not afford anything better.

His other skill was magic. Except he had not learned how to wield it in any way that could help someone with their trade, and the Lyceum frowned on students working outside the school anyway. If he searched long enough, he might find someone whose business could somehow gain from having even a novice mage helping out, but Martel had no idea where to look or what to look for. Feeling his stomach rumble, he decided to postpone the question; perhaps with his hunger sated, ideas would come.

~

Arriving for his lesson at the Hall of Elements, Martel saw something unusual. His teacher, normally poised and confident, seemed strangely apprehensive, and he hesitated to look the novice in the eye. "Martel, I think I owe you an apology."

Taken aback, Martel blinked. "What for?"

"I acted curt with you. Implied that you didn't take your studies seriously. Now I have learned from Master Kelsos that you were seriously ill this whole time." Appearing almost anguished with one hand wringing the other, Master Alastair spoke again. "Usually, when my students have drowsy eyes and lack of concentration, it's because they spend their nights irresponsibly. But you have always been a keen student. I should have known something else was the cause of this. I'm sorry I misjudged you and that I failed to notice you needed help."

Martel had not considered any of this. After all, Master Alastair had been right; he had sacrificed sleep in order to run his little apothecary in the copper lanes, thereby making his studies and out-of-class exercises less of a priority. But if this bought him some goodwill with his teacher, Martel was not above taking it. "That's fine. I didn't have many symptoms, after all. I just thought I was tired from not sleeping well."

"Regardless, I will be more considerate in the future." Master Alastair gave him a closer look, and his expression changed from guilt to a wry smile. "How did it feel? When Master Kelsos healed you?"

"Amazing. Such a complete change in a matter of moments." Even if the sensation of near euphoria had quickly faded, the memory remained strong in his mind.

His teacher nodded. "It reminds me that magic has such potential we barely even understand. Your time in the infirmary must nearly be up, right?"

"Yeah, I think tomorrow is my last lesson, and then I move on to a new course." Something with water; Martel had not quite understood it from the terse description on his schedule.

"That means Master Kelsos will test you. But you must not be disappointed if you lack this particular gift. Healers are extremely rare."

Martel nodded. "I know."

"Very well." Master Alastair smiled. "Let's focus on our own work and leave tomorrow's magic for tomorrow."

~

Despite Master Alastair's warning against disappointment, Martel could not help but imagine if his class the next day showed he had the gift of healing. It would, in an instant, solve all his problems. He would not have to worry about hiding his abilities with fire; healers were far more valuable than battlemages. He could demand any price he wanted for his healing skills, with no guilds interfering. Shadi would never have to worry about rent again, and Martel would have the coin and magic to prevent his family from ever starving or becoming sick again. As he went to sleep that night, thoughts of a bright future followed him into his dreams.