Firebrand

Chapter 500: Looking for Questions

Looking for Questions

From long hours doing alchemy, interspersed only with classes at the Lyceum, Martel's routines changed entirely. He had no chores or obligations anymore other than to wait for his graduation day and the missive from the Imperial administration.

He found ways to keep himself busy as best he could. He could never practise enchanting too much, even if progress seemed to come slower and slower. He returned to the warehouse and helped Mistress Rana with a few minor tasks, quickly done; the pestilence was finally abating, and though the quarantine could not be lifted yet, an end was in sight.

He spent some leisurely evenings with Eleanor and Maximilian, though both of them often left the school to visit their families, leaving him on his own.

Thus, try as he might, Martel found the hours long and idle from time to time. Until two fivedays had passed and the full moon rose over Morcaster.

***

Hearing the rumours fly around the castle, Martel deliberately did not pay them any attention at first. He knew nothing would come of it. He had trudged through the streets of Morcaster, the sewers, and the catacombs, time and time again; all in pursuit of this elusive phantom. The city was simply too big and the trail either cold or incomplete that anybody might stand a chance of finding the maleficar. And even if they did, they had to contend with the creature of smoke that protected him, a foe beyond Martel's abilities.

On the other hand, he could spend an hour in his room practising his enchantment for the slightest incremental gain to his skill, or he could take a stroll through the city and indulge his curiosity rather than attempt to suppress it. Trying not to feel foolish despite going on a fool's errand, Martel fetched his cloak and cap, tied a scarf around his neck, and left the Lyceum.

Rumours led Martel westwards to the merchant quarter. That fit the pattern; as far as he knew, the maleficar had not attacked anyone in this district before. Once he assumed that he was near the location of the assault, Martel glanced around to find someone that could direct him to his destination. When it came to maleficars, adults were reluctant to talk, especially to a wizard; instead, Martel found a child happy to show Martel the location in exchange for a few pennies.

Crossing a square to get there, Martel realised the location was familiar to him. He had to search his memory until he recalled passing this place at the beginning of this year; he had been ambushed by inquisitors while working with the Night Knives, forcing him to rely on Weasel to guide him back to the Lyceum unseen by the mage hunters. Ironic that Martel had been so fearful for Flora's life that night, wounded in the fight against the inquisitors; now her body lay rotting in the Undercroft, slain by his hand.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Just down there, master. Them mage hunters in blue were all over the place this morning." The boy extended his hand and watched with a grin as Martel dropped two copper coins into his palm before he ran off.

Martel was uncertain what he had expected to find. Obviously, the body would be long gone. But he had hoped to maybe catch some trail of dark magic, which would be undetected by the inquisitors, being bereft of a magical sense. He knew that powerful sorcery could leave a presence, as he had felt it by the relic that the Friar had made him hunt down; even removed from the small temple, Martel had sensed its powerful presence lingering behind.

As for this place, there seemed to be nothing. It could be that rumours were wrong; perhaps this was an ordinary murder, or the maleficar had been interrupted before he could carry out his dark rituals. This was certainly a more public place than the derelict house where he had kept Sparrow, or the home of the old woman he had killed in the copper lanes, for that matter. Regardless, there was nothing to learn.

Even so, Martel did not return straight to the Lyceum. He knocked on doors and asked people in the vicinity who might have witnessed something. Nothing. Either people had been asleep, or they did not wish to share anything with a wizard. Martel tried to pressure those who appeared shifty, but it only made them double their protestations of ignorance.

As a final thought, Martel went back to retrace his steps from the night he had been running from the inquisitors, led by Weasel. The boy had taken Martel to this part of the city in order to descend down a sewer hatch, allowing Martel to return to the Lyceum unnoticed. It took him a little while, but he found the same alley and walked down to locate the hatch. Unlocked. Martel felt certain that the maleficar had used this as his route to enter and leave the district; unfortunately, that knowledge did little to help him.

He had already searched the sewers and the catacombs, the latter even in company with inquisitors. Nothing had come of it. Even underground, there was too much ground and too many dangers to properly search it all. As much as it pained him, Martel would have to concede defeat. He wondered for how long the maleficar would continue to haunt Morcaster; would he continue month after month, year after year, always claiming another victim? The inquisitors clearly had no clue how to find him, let alone stop him. As for other institutions, such as the Imperial administration or the city guard… if one person died a month, in a city that saw plenty of violence and other deaths, would they really care enough to consider the problem?

Having no answers, nor finding any concerning the maleficar, Martel trudged back to the Lyceum. Deep in his thoughts, he did not notice the man in blue uniform following him all the way to the castle square to watch him cross the threshold into the school.