Firebrand

Chapter 436: The Word of a Wizard

The Word of a Wizard

Pelday passed without incident; yet the next day at noon, Martel was given a message with a handwriting he recognised.

Master Martel,

We have to meet.

Grey Brothers' shrine.

Tonight, last bell.

The choice of location served as good as a signature. And despite any mention of why they had to meet, Martel could guess. The Fire Eater, Ruby, and now the Friar. It could hardly be a coincidence. Martel was only confused about why. The issue of the insula being built in the Khivan enclave seemed like a problem only for the Khivans. Furthermore, given how the Nine Lords avoided each other's territories, at least overtly, it seemed strange that two of them would interfere with the matter concerning a third. At the same time, it did not concern Martel; his only interest was whether he could avoid getting entangled in the affairs of Morcaster's underworld. Given his previous experiences, it did not seem likely.

***

The question continued to occupy Martel's thoughts throughout the day. He knew that he could not deny the old monk a meeting; Martel owed him that much after what he did for Sparrow. But could he find a reason to deny whatever requests the Friar would make? No matter what it was, if related to the Khivan district or not, it would undoubtedly pull Martel back into the trouble that accompanied any venture involving the Nine Lords.

He looked over at Maximilian, getting back on his feet. Even distracted, Martel had no trouble winning his duels during their combat lessons. Fighting one on one, the mageknights simply lacked the tools or tactics to defeat him whilst equipped with his array of elemental magic.

"You are a wearisome opponent, Nordmark," Maximilian grumbled.

"You're the one who insists we duel at least once every class," Martel pointed out.

"Because every time, a fiveday has passed since last lesson, and I forget how devious you are. And what is this? More tricks?" The mageknight pointed with his hammer at Martel's belt with its pockets.

"Master Jerome made it for me." The fire acolyte unclasped one pocket to pull out a jar. "My enchantment at work," he said proudly. "Even you could set something on fire with this."

"Let me try!"

Martel pulled his hand back and returned the jar to its home. "Waste half an hour's work so you could have a moment of entertainment? Hardly."

"That seems a fair trade to me."

"That speaks more to your sense of economics than anything else," Eleanor chimed in, joining them on their break with her own duel won.

"Fontaine, why must you always side with our blue-eyed friend? It seems most unreasonable."

"Someone has to look out for him," she explained, glancing at Martel with a wink. "And you do the opposite."

"I should be envious," Maximilian considered, "if I had any need of such protection myself."

He had no need to be, the fire acolyte thought; he would have Eleanor by his side long after Martel was gone. And neither of them could help him with what lay ahead; whatever the Friar wanted, he would have to do it alone.

***

Martel reached the shrine, where the Friar already awaited him. As for the Grey Brothers, they quickly cleared the small temple.

"You may have guessed what this meeting is about."

Martel sat down on the bench next to the monk. "The Fire Eater. Lady Pearl's right hand woman. Now you."

The Friar nodded slowly. "Yes. I want you to aid them in their endeavour. As repayment for the service I provided you with the orphan girl."

"Why?"

The robed man turned his head to look at the wizard. "Does it matter? The task remains the same regardless of reasons."

"These matters have a habit of escalating. No less than three of the Nine Lords are involved in this. For all his power, Duke Cheval does not rule this city or its districts, yet you all band together against him. Something is afoot beyond a simple construction. If you want me to fight, risk my life, I deserve to know the full story."

"I doubt you'll be needed for fighting or that you will be in any sort of danger."

"Maybe not from lethal danger, but if my identity is discovered, it could cause me all manner of troubles. Even if you keep the inquisitors from coming after me, there's already bad blood between me and Duke Cheval. I'm not interested in making that worse."

"If that's the case, one would think you relished the opportunity to strike back at him. But very well. I shall tell you what you wish to know." The old monk coughed a few times, clearing his throat. "I do not believe the aforementioned duke is acting entirely on his own. I believe he is in league with one of the Nine Lords, providing him with eyes and ears on the ground, and probably handling other issues to make construction go faster."

Martel frowned. "But he has plenty of influence and henchmen at his command. Why would he need to make deals with criminals?"

"I would not use that word, but regardless, it allows him to have certain problems removed or other processes sped along without his direct involvement. Forcing builders to abandon other projects and work on his, ensuring his construction receives priority for shipments of stones, and simply being made aware of anybody plotting to disrupt his project. A prudent precaution, given the expected reprisal from the Khivans."

The duke seemed like the sort of pragmatic person to happily deal with leaders of the underworld, as long as it brought him closer to his goal. "Alright. That explains why the Nine Lords are involved. But not why you choose to be, and why you spend your influence to make me participate."

"The Pact is fragile," the Friar admitted. "It has served us well. But some of the Nine Lords, those who are not content with their position or power, chafe under it. It is obvious what Duke Cheval gains from an alliance with one of my brethren. The question you should ask, which I have asked myself, pertains to what one of them gains in return? They are antagonising the Fire Eater. Even if not overtly breaching the Pact, they are inviting more trouble than payments from the duke would be worth."

"Is it on purpose? Just like when someone stole the relic," Martel considered.

"I fear so. They are undermining the Pact and trying to weaken the Fire Eater. His power rests upon his people being Khivans. If they are forced out of the enclave, replaced by Asterians, it leaves the entire district vulnerable for the taking."

"Fine. I understand why you want to be involved."

"Good. The others wish to meet as soon as possible, to make plans and begin preparations. I believe they will gather already tomorrow. You shall receive a message with the pertinent instructions," the Friar told him.

"That presupposes that I'll do this. I haven't yet agreed. This is not my problem to solve, and I have no desire to be involved." Martel looked at the old man by his side, waiting to see what his response would be.

"I am used to giving commands and being obeyed. But I accept that the procedure may be different when dealing with a wizard. No resorting to threats," the Friar declared. "I could, of course. I could point out that I know where the orphan girl lives, and if the inquisitors were told, they'd take her into custody at once. But threatening the lives of children is a step too far, I will admit. So I will simply say this." He returned Martel's stare. "I have always taken you to be the sort who honours his commitments. I cannot imagine you would disappoint me by denying the favour that you owe me."

The mage held his breath. Regardless of claims to the opposite, it felt like the Friar had already made a veiled threat. Perhaps he meant his words in earnest – or maybe keeping Martel uncertain about his intentions, how far he would actually go, was another way of manipulating the young wizard. Either way, the old man was right. He had saved Sparrow's life; Martel could not deny repayment. "Alright. I'll do it."