Chapter 357: Teaching the Bird
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Chapter 357: Teaching the Bird
Teaching the Bird
His morning chores at the workshop and apothecary done, Martel found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall. At this point, receiving these brief missives never boded well, regardless of the sender.
Master Martel,
We should talk tonight.
I'll be at our usual haunt
Once sixth bell has rung.
Your friend in bright garb
The Keeper, presumably, whose name Martel had no knowledge of. Not that he needed it. He had reached a decision regarding all of this, and tonight would be his last encounter with the jester of the criminal underworld.
***
Martel arrived a little late, and his companion awaited him at the usual table. He noticed that for all these clandestinely meetings, Martel was always the last to arrive and first to leave. Probably because these people did not wish for the wizards to follow them; the consequence of a life led in distrust and deception. He would be glad to see an end to it.
"I have made inquiries," the Keeper confided in him. "I do believe that House Thierry is involved rather than Lady Pearl being our culprit. To that end, I have found the ideal opportunity for us to enter their mansion and learn what we can."
"Another mass celebration?" Martel had experienced his fill of those.
"An ordinary party, I fear, but I believe I can get us disguises to see our charade through. It is not for another month, however, which does bother me. But we should keep watch of their estate until then."
"You will have to do this without me." Ignoring the cup of ale placed in front of him by the tavernkeeper, Martel stared at his companion. "I have done enough. I can't keep running all over Morcaster getting involved in these affairs. I believe I have done more than my fair share with regards to my agreement with the Friar."
"I can't find the relic without you," came the slow reply. "I don't have your gift."
"But plenty of others do. I might have been the most expedient choice, but I'm hardly the only one." The young mage got up. "This is where I take my leave."
Martel ignored the small chief to focus on his pupil. "Hey, Sparrow. I'm sorry it's been a while since my last visit. Have you had time to practise?"
She nodded eagerly and held out her hand, palm facing the ground. With deep concentration on her face, Sparrow pulled a mound of dirt upwards. It lasted for a few moments before her focus broke, and the earth scattered back to the ground.
"Well done!"
She beamed a smile until Weasel behind her spoke. "So she can shuffle some dirt around. What's the use in that? How's that going to feed us?"
Martel had wrestled with this question; namely, which spells to teach Sparrow. If he instructed her in offensive magic and she used it to kill someone, he would be culpable in part. But magic to keep her safe, help her escape danger, even if just a city guard, seemed acceptable to him. "If you run at me, like you're attacking me, I'll show you, Weasel."
The boy hesitated, clearly suspicious.
"I won't harm you," Martel promised. "But if you're afraid..."
A sneer ran across Weasel's face, and he ran forward.
With a quick stomp in the ground, Martel pushed the earth up in front of the boy's feet, and he fell to the ground. "Useful if anyone is chasing you," he remarked to Sparrow, who laughed.
She fell silent as Weasel got back on his feet, rubbing his nose. "You said it wouldn't hurt!"
"I said that I wouldn't harm you. I made no promises on behalf of the ground."
"Bloody wizards and their two tongues..."
Martel turned to Sparrow. "Your magic can reach further than you think. It doesn't have to be something close to you. Like another arm you can move in any direction."
She frowned. "That sounds weird."
"Magic is strange. But you saw me do it. You can as well. Practise sending your magic into the ground, affecting somewhere far from you. I'll be back and see how well you're doing," the mage promised.
"I will," Sparrow declared. Behind her, Weasel grumbled something unintelligibly.
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Chapter 357: Teaching the Bird
Teaching the Bird
His morning chores at the workshop and apothecary done, Martel found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall. At this point, receiving these brief missives never boded well, regardless of the sender.
Master Martel,
We should talk tonight.
I'll be at our usual haunt
Once sixth bell has rung.
Your friend in bright garb
The Keeper, presumably, whose name Martel had no knowledge of. Not that he needed it. He had reached a decision regarding all of this, and tonight would be his last encounter with the jester of the criminal underworld.
***
Martel arrived a little late, and his companion awaited him at the usual table. He noticed that for all these clandestinely meetings, Martel was always the last to arrive and first to leave. Probably because these people did not wish for the wizards to follow them; the consequence of a life led in distrust and deception. He would be glad to see an end to it.
"I have made inquiries," the Keeper confided in him. "I do believe that House Thierry is involved rather than Lady Pearl being our culprit. To that end, I have found the ideal opportunity for us to enter their mansion and learn what we can."
"Another mass celebration?" Martel had experienced his fill of those.
"An ordinary party, I fear, but I believe I can get us disguises to see our charade through. It is not for another month, however, which does bother me. But we should keep watch of their estate until then."
"You will have to do this without me." Ignoring the cup of ale placed in front of him by the tavernkeeper, Martel stared at his companion. "I have done enough. I can't keep running all over Morcaster getting involved in these affairs. I believe I have done more than my fair share with regards to my agreement with the Friar."
"I can't find the relic without you," came the slow reply. "I don't have your gift."
"But plenty of others do. I might have been the most expedient choice, but I'm hardly the only one." The young mage got up. "This is where I take my leave."
Martel ignored the small chief to focus on his pupil. "Hey, Sparrow. I'm sorry it's been a while since my last visit. Have you had time to practise?"
She nodded eagerly and held out her hand, palm facing the ground. With deep concentration on her face, Sparrow pulled a mound of dirt upwards. It lasted for a few moments before her focus broke, and the earth scattered back to the ground.
"Well done!"
She beamed a smile until Weasel behind her spoke. "So she can shuffle some dirt around. What's the use in that? How's that going to feed us?"
Martel had wrestled with this question; namely, which spells to teach Sparrow. If he instructed her in offensive magic and she used it to kill someone, he would be culpable in part. But magic to keep her safe, help her escape danger, even if just a city guard, seemed acceptable to him. "If you run at me, like you're attacking me, I'll show you, Weasel."
The boy hesitated, clearly suspicious.
"I won't harm you," Martel promised. "But if you're afraid..."
A sneer ran across Weasel's face, and he ran forward.
With a quick stomp in the ground, Martel pushed the earth up in front of the boy's feet, and he fell to the ground. "Useful if anyone is chasing you," he remarked to Sparrow, who laughed.
She fell silent as Weasel got back on his feet, rubbing his nose. "You said it wouldn't hurt!"
"I said that I wouldn't harm you. I made no promises on behalf of the ground."
"Bloody wizards and their two tongues..."
Martel turned to Sparrow. "Your magic can reach further than you think. It doesn't have to be something close to you. Like another arm you can move in any direction."
She frowned. "That sounds weird."
"Magic is strange. But you saw me do it. You can as well. Practise sending your magic into the ground, affecting somewhere far from you. I'll be back and see how well you're doing," the mage promised.
"I will," Sparrow declared. Behind her, Weasel grumbled something unintelligibly.
Chapter 357: Teaching the BirdTeaching the BirdHis morning chores at the workshop and apothecary done, Martel found a message waiting for him in the entrance hall. At this point, receiving these brief missives never boded well, regardless of the sender.Master Martel,We should talk tonight.I'll be at our usual hauntOnce sixth bell has rung.Your friend in bright garbThe Keeper, presumably, whose name Martel had no knowledge of. Not that he needed it. He had reached a decision regarding all of this, and tonight would be his last encounter with the jester of the criminal underworld.***Martel arrived a little late, and his companion awaited him at the usual table. He noticed that for all these clandestinely meetings, Martel was always the last to arrive and first to leave. Probably because these people did not wish for the wizards to follow them; the consequence of a life led in distrust and deception. He would be glad to see an end to it."I have made inquiries," the Keeper confided in him. "I do believe that House Thierry is involved rather than Lady Pearl being our culprit. To that end, I have found the ideal opportunity for us to enter their mansion and learn what we can.""Another mass celebration?" Martel had experienced his fill of those."An ordinary party, I fear, but I believe I can get us disguises to see our charade through. It is not for another month, however, which does bother me. But we should keep watch of their estate until then.""You will have to do this without me." Ignoring the cup of ale placed in front of him by the tavernkeeper, Martel stared at his companion. "I have done enough. I can't keep running all over Morcaster getting involved in these affairs. I believe I have done more than my fair share with regards to my agreement with the Friar.""I can't find the relic without you," came the slow reply. "I don't have your gift.""But plenty of others do. I might have been the most expedient choice, but I'm hardly the only one." The young mage got up. "This is where I take my leave."Martel ignored the small chief to focus on his pupil. "Hey, Sparrow. I'm sorry it's been a while since my last visit. Have you had time to practise?"She nodded eagerly and held out her hand, palm facing the ground. With deep concentration on her face, Sparrow pulled a mound of dirt upwards. It lasted for a few moments before her focus broke, and the earth scattered back to the ground."Well done!"She beamed a smile until Weasel behind her spoke. "So she can shuffle some dirt around. What's the use in that? How's that going to feed us?"Martel had wrestled with this question; namely, which spells to teach Sparrow. If he instructed her in offensive magic and she used it to kill someone, he would be culpable in part. But magic to keep her safe, help her escape danger, even if just a city guard, seemed acceptable to him. "If you run at me, like you're attacking me, I'll show you, Weasel."The boy hesitated, clearly suspicious."I won't harm you," Martel promised. "But if you're afraid..."A sneer ran across Weasel's face, and he ran forward.With a quick stomp in the ground, Martel pushed the earth up in front of the boy's feet, and he fell to the ground. "Useful if anyone is chasing you," he remarked to Sparrow, who laughed.She fell silent as Weasel got back on his feet, rubbing his nose. "You said it wouldn't hurt!""I said that I wouldn't harm you. I made no promises on behalf of the ground.""Bloody wizards and their two tongues..."Martel turned to Sparrow. "Your magic can reach further than you think. It doesn't have to be something close to you. Like another arm you can move in any direction."She frowned. "That sounds weird.""Magic is strange. But you saw me do it. You can as well. Practise sending your magic into the ground, affecting somewhere far from you. I'll be back and see how well you're doing," the mage promised."I will," Sparrow declared. Behind her, Weasel grumbled something unintelligibly.
