Chapter 427: Harvestmen
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Chapter 427: Harvestmen
Harvestmen
The following day, Martel checked for a message straight after breakfast, and also after first bell had ended. Henry gave him odd looks, but the clerk did not dare say anything other than inform Martel that no missives awaited him.
During his chore in the apothecary, Martel chopped the plants with vicious blows, practically turning them to powder. If Nora sensed his mood, she had the wits to remain quiet and let him work out his anxieties with the herb knife.
Appearing from the laboratory, Mistress Rana had no qualms about addressing her helper. "Martel, we will not be gathering herbs on Solday, so you may have the day off to do as you wish. Instead, we shall go Glunday, and we will be out late, taking advantage of the full moon. I'll pack what we need. Don't worry about your lessons," she added. "I told your teachers you would be absent." She glanced at the current efforts of his toils lying on the worktable. "You're meant to chop it finely, not turn it into dust." Martel made no reply, his mind barely able to focus on what she had told him, and she swiftly left the apothecary.
***
Martel went again to the clerks after his first lesson, after dinner, and on his way to his second lesson in fire magic, all in vain. Yet as seventh bell rang, his sojourns to the entrance hall were finally rewarded. Mutely, Henry gave him a note, which Martel basically tore open.
The girl is where you feared.
Getting her released will be hard.
The Friar scrutinised him. "Good. But it will not be your magical power that frees the girl, however impressive that might be. Brute force will not avail us. The Inquisition is backed by the Empire, and even you might have some trouble standing against them."
"Of course," Martel conceded. Part of him had in fact been ready for a fight, but he had known deep down that it would not be the answer. Assuming he could steal Sparrow away from the mage hunters, it would undoubtedly leave a bloody mess and make them both fugitives, with the full might of the Inquisition coming down on them. Still – he felt the slightest touch of disappointment that this would be resolved using guile instead.
"You did right coming to me. I have connections, goodwill, and favours to draw upon. I should be able to have the girl released."
Martel would have preferred a guarantee stated in absolute terms, but he knew he had to take what he could get. "Good. Please do so."
The Friar, whose eyes had returned to the painting, once more looked at Martel with a penetrating gaze. "Understand that this goes beyond any favours I might owe you. If you had been in trouble, I could point to your standing as a battlemage of the Lyceum and discreetly hint at the services you have provided for me. Helping you would have been a reasonable repayment for finding the stolen relic, and I would not ask anything further of you. But this girl, accused of using magic to steal – I will have to expend all my influence to have her handed over to me. It will come with conditions for both her and you. I will expect you to repay this debt. Do you understand?"
Martel did not see any other option. "I understand. Do it."
The monk nodded. "Without hesitation. As soon as it is done, I shall send word to you."
"Thank you." The young wizard exhaled in relief. He looked again at the painting. Beautifully done, but an odd choice for a decoration; it made the farmer look almost saintly, as if he swung his scythe to harvest the grain as a religious obeisance, rather than because the alternative was starvation. It seemed more like a city-dweller's idea of what a man working the land should look like, or how he should feel about it.
His mind too tired for debating artwork, Martel kept this observation to himself and left the temple.The roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.
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Chapter 427: Harvestmen
Harvestmen
The following day, Martel checked for a message straight after breakfast, and also after first bell had ended. Henry gave him odd looks, but the clerk did not dare say anything other than inform Martel that no missives awaited him.
During his chore in the apothecary, Martel chopped the plants with vicious blows, practically turning them to powder. If Nora sensed his mood, she had the wits to remain quiet and let him work out his anxieties with the herb knife.
Appearing from the laboratory, Mistress Rana had no qualms about addressing her helper. "Martel, we will not be gathering herbs on Solday, so you may have the day off to do as you wish. Instead, we shall go Glunday, and we will be out late, taking advantage of the full moon. I'll pack what we need. Don't worry about your lessons," she added. "I told your teachers you would be absent." She glanced at the current efforts of his toils lying on the worktable. "You're meant to chop it finely, not turn it into dust." Martel made no reply, his mind barely able to focus on what she had told him, and she swiftly left the apothecary.
***
Martel went again to the clerks after his first lesson, after dinner, and on his way to his second lesson in fire magic, all in vain. Yet as seventh bell rang, his sojourns to the entrance hall were finally rewarded. Mutely, Henry gave him a note, which Martel basically tore open.
The girl is where you feared.
Getting her released will be hard.
The Friar scrutinised him. "Good. But it will not be your magical power that frees the girl, however impressive that might be. Brute force will not avail us. The Inquisition is backed by the Empire, and even you might have some trouble standing against them."
"Of course," Martel conceded. Part of him had in fact been ready for a fight, but he had known deep down that it would not be the answer. Assuming he could steal Sparrow away from the mage hunters, it would undoubtedly leave a bloody mess and make them both fugitives, with the full might of the Inquisition coming down on them. Still – he felt the slightest touch of disappointment that this would be resolved using guile instead.
"You did right coming to me. I have connections, goodwill, and favours to draw upon. I should be able to have the girl released."
Martel would have preferred a guarantee stated in absolute terms, but he knew he had to take what he could get. "Good. Please do so."
The Friar, whose eyes had returned to the painting, once more looked at Martel with a penetrating gaze. "Understand that this goes beyond any favours I might owe you. If you had been in trouble, I could point to your standing as a battlemage of the Lyceum and discreetly hint at the services you have provided for me. Helping you would have been a reasonable repayment for finding the stolen relic, and I would not ask anything further of you. But this girl, accused of using magic to steal – I will have to expend all my influence to have her handed over to me. It will come with conditions for both her and you. I will expect you to repay this debt. Do you understand?"
Martel did not see any other option. "I understand. Do it."
The monk nodded. "Without hesitation. As soon as it is done, I shall send word to you."
"Thank you." The young wizard exhaled in relief. He looked again at the painting. Beautifully done, but an odd choice for a decoration; it made the farmer look almost saintly, as if he swung his scythe to harvest the grain as a religious obeisance, rather than because the alternative was starvation. It seemed more like a city-dweller's idea of what a man working the land should look like, or how he should feel about it.
His mind too tired for debating artwork, Martel kept this observation to himself and left the temple.The roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.
Chapter 427: HarvestmenHarvestmenThe following day, Martel checked for a message straight after breakfast, and also after first bell had ended. Henry gave him odd looks, but the clerk did not dare say anything other than inform Martel that no missives awaited him.During his chore in the apothecary, Martel chopped the plants with vicious blows, practically turning them to powder. If Nora sensed his mood, she had the wits to remain quiet and let him work out his anxieties with the herb knife.Appearing from the laboratory, Mistress Rana had no qualms about addressing her helper. "Martel, we will not be gathering herbs on Solday, so you may have the day off to do as you wish. Instead, we shall go Glunday, and we will be out late, taking advantage of the full moon. I'll pack what we need. Don't worry about your lessons," she added. "I told your teachers you would be absent." She glanced at the current efforts of his toils lying on the worktable. "You're meant to chop it finely, not turn it into dust." Martel made no reply, his mind barely able to focus on what she had told him, and she swiftly left the apothecary.***Martel went again to the clerks after his first lesson, after dinner, and on his way to his second lesson in fire magic, all in vain. Yet as seventh bell rang, his sojourns to the entrance hall were finally rewarded. Mutely, Henry gave him a note, which Martel basically tore open.The girl is where you feared.Getting her released will be hard.The Friar scrutinised him. "Good. But it will not be your magical power that frees the girl, however impressive that might be. Brute force will not avail us. The Inquisition is backed by the Empire, and even you might have some trouble standing against them.""Of course," Martel conceded. Part of him had in fact been ready for a fight, but he had known deep down that it would not be the answer. Assuming he could steal Sparrow away from the mage hunters, it would undoubtedly leave a bloody mess and make them both fugitives, with the full might of the Inquisition coming down on them. Still he felt the slightest touch of disappointment that this would be resolved using guile instead."You did right coming to me. I have connections, goodwill, and favours to draw upon. I should be able to have the girl released."Martel would have preferred a guarantee stated in absolute terms, but he knew he had to take what he could get. "Good. Please do so."The Friar, whose eyes had returned to the painting, once more looked at Martel with a penetrating gaze. "Understand that this goes beyond any favours I might owe you. If you had been in trouble, I could point to your standing as a battlemage of the Lyceum and discreetly hint at the services you have provided for me. Helping you would have been a reasonable repayment for finding the stolen relic, and I would not ask anything further of you. But this girl, accused of using magic to steal I will have to expend all my influence to have her handed over to me. It will come with conditions for both her and you. I will expect you to repay this debt. Do you understand?"Martel did not see any other option. "I understand. Do it."The monk nodded. "Without hesitation. As soon as it is done, I shall send word to you.""Thank you." The young wizard exhaled in relief. He looked again at the painting. Beautifully done, but an odd choice for a decoration; it made the farmer look almost saintly, as if he swung his scythe to harvest the grain as a religious obeisance, rather than because the alternative was starvation. It seemed more like a city-dweller's idea of what a man working the land should look like, or how he should feel about it.His mind too tired for debating artwork, Martel kept this observation to himself and left the temple.The roots of this story extend from novell bin origin.
