Firebrand

Chapter 4: Tranquil

Tranquil

As Glunday arrived, Martel returned to elemental magic. He had practised with the bowl of water in his room, yet despite all his efforts, he could barely cause the slightest change. The various methods shown to him by Master Alastair had not yielded any results; apprehensive, Martel approached the Hall of Elements for his next lesson just as the bell rang.

A handful of novices exited, chattering loudly. From bits of their conversation, Martel surmised that their training progressed well. They glanced at him as they passed, which he had grown accustomed to at this point; standing aside, he let them pass before he entered the hall.

The short Master of Elements stood in the middle. With a sweeping gesture of his hand, the jagged earth floor turned smooth. The water, flowing in its circle, became calm. "Martel! The bell's barely rung and you're already here," he remarked as he looked at his student with a smile.

"I don't want to waste time," Martel explained simply.

"Good attitude, boy. How's your practice been on your own?"

"I tried my best, master," Martel claimed. "Both Pelday and today before class."

"And? You don't sound enthused."

"I don't think I've made any progress," the novice admitted.

"No matter," Master Alastair declared with an optimistic tone. "Let's try another method. Come, sit down by the water. Close your eyes," he added once Martel had followed his first instruction. He took hold of the boy's hand and held it palm up. Next, Master Alastair placed a few drops of water in the hand. "Do you feel the water on your skin?"

"Yes, master."

"Focus only on that. Shut everything else out. When you have done so, push the water to drip down your hand and fall to the ground. It wants to move. It wants to follow gravity and fall down. You just need to give it the slightest push." contemporary romance

Martel did his best to obey. With closed eyes, he imagined the drop as he felt it in his palm. He was tempted to tilt his hand a little, just to help things along, but he realised this would defeat the purpose of the exercise.

After a while, he opened his eyes, feeling awkward and ashamed. "I'm sorry, master."

"No need to be," Master Alastair reassured him. "How about I leave to take care of a few errands? You can try again without feeling me watching you."

"Thanks."

With a comforting smile, the wizard left the Hall of Elements, and Martel returned to the exercise. Yet as the lesson passed, nothing came of it.

~

At lunch, Martel filled his plate with bread, butter, asparagus, peas, and cabbage. He stood for a moment, searching for a secluded place to eat, before he changed his mind. Tired of eating alone, he saw a familiar face and took his chances.

"Can I sit here?" asked Martel after approaching the table.

Henry, the airmage who manned the desk at the entrance hall, looked up. "Sure."

Relieved, but trying not to let it show, Martel quickly took the empty space on the bench opposite the acolyte.

"I didn't know we let novices sit at our table," growled Jasper, the earthmage who shared Henry's occupation.

"It's fine, he's as old as we are." The airmage waved his hand in the air and resumed eating. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," he added between bites, aimed at Martel. "Don't forget to check for letters at the entrance hall. You should do so every other day."

Martel dipped his bread in butter. "Letters?"

"Or just messages. Sometimes from the teachers. Though urgent ones will be delivered to your room," Henry explained.

"Don't you have family that would write letters?" asked Jasper.

"I suppose they will, after some time," Martel considered.

"You do know how to read, right," the earthmage continued.

"You saw him sign the contract," Henry pointed.

"Right."

"If you write any letters, you can leave them at our desk too," Henry added. "We'll be sure they get sent by Imperial post. The riders can reach anywhere in the Empire in three fivedays."

"Don't forget to pay four coppers, though," Jasper said, raising a finger as a facetious warning. "Or they'll use your letter for kindling." He drank from his cup.

"I don't have any coin," Martel admitted. "I'll need to find work. Like you guys do."

"Good luck with that being only a novice," Jasper laughed, wiping his mouth with his green sleeve.

Martel gave Henry a questioning look.

"Most work open to students at the Lyceum require magical skills. Like, you must be able to use Tyrian runes to send messages through the pipes. Being a good airmage helps," the white-clad acolyte explained with a satisfied expression.

"All the mundane work, they just hire servants to do," Jasper added.

"Have you been to the workshop yet?" Henry asked.

"Workshop? Oh, no, not yet. I'm due on Solday," Martel explained.

"Ask the artificer. He may have some odd jobs you can do. He looks big and tough, but he's a real soft touch," the airmage declared before raising his cup to take a hefty gulp.

"I'll do that, thanks," replied the sole novice at the table. Falling quiet, he let the acolytes resume their talks about difficult lessons, stern teachers, girls in their classes, sojourns into the city, and everything else happening in their lives.

~

After lunch, Martel followed Henry to the entrance hall, where it turned out a message did wait for him. It was from the quartermaster, informing him his new clothes could be picked up. The message was already a day old, and Martel realised he could have been spared teasing about his ill-fitting robe, had he only known. But no sense in crying over rusted iron, as his father had often said, and Martel hurried through the Lyceum to reach the quartermaster's small domain.

Soon, he could hand over one robe in exchange for two others, made to fit his taller frame. Relief went through him as he dressed in his new garments, feeling as if a vulnerability had now been armoured. People might still look because he appeared too old to be a novice, but at least his clothes no longer gave them further reason to ridicule him.

Feeling optimistic, he practised in his room until the time came for his second lesson in elemental magic that day, which unfolded much like the previous one.

~

In the faculty wing, Alastair knocked on the door and waited until a voice inside bid him enter. "Juliana," he spoke in greeting as he stepped inside.

"Something to drink?" she offered with a gesture towards a bottle. "I just filled it today."

"I'll never say no. What cask?" Alastair sat down, grabbing a cup from the small table between them.

"Not Asterian. From Sindhu, I assume, since the seller is that little Sindhian man. You have seen him, I am sure."

"Right, the wine seller who comes around. I have never tried any of his fare before." Once Juliana had filled his cup, Alastair took it to his lip and gave it a taste. "Not bad."

"I have grown quite partial to it," she admitted.

Alastair took another sip before he placed his cup on the table again. "I'm guessing you didn't ask me here just to sample wine."

"How is our newest student?"

The Master of Elements scratched his neck. "I'm trying to teach him through the tranquil methods rather than emotional. It's not going well."

"To be expected, given his nature."

"I suppose if there's no breakthrough, I'll have to try another approach."

"Have you told him anything?" asked the overseer.

"Not yet. I will, soon enough. Certainly before I try to teach him anything with fire."

Juliana exhaled. "I hope I did the right thing."

"You did." Alastair nodded. "Protecting him from the Empire... and the Empire from him."

"Perhaps he would have been fine on his own."

"I imagine someone else thought the same two hundred years ago when half of Morcaster burned." Alastair grabbed his cup. "Or would you have entrusted him to some hedge wizard?"

Juliana emptied the bottle into his cup. "No. But I wish we would not have to face such choices."

Alastair gave a little shrug. "We do the best we can, no? The rest is up to the Stars." He emptied his goblet in one swig.