Firebrand
Chapter 431: Light Eater

Light Eater

Martel's life settled into the usual routine over the next fivedays. Lessons in fire magic and combat continued at what felt like a snail's pace. At least trying to wield the staff of a stormmage gave him a challenge, even if it did not seem pertinent to his education as a battlemage; he would never control air magic to such a degree that he might prefer it over fire, which he mastered unlike any other element.

While enchantment would not avail him in battle either, Martel preferred spending his efforts on that skill. He could measure his progress, which encouraged him, and he knew how he wanted to put this ability to use.

Sitting in the laboratory that formed part of the workshops, Martel held a stone in his hand about the size of his fist. It was almost perfectly round except for the flat bottom, allowing it to stand on a surface without rolling away.

Focusing, Martel pushed his magic into the rock, filling every inch of it with the essence of fire. It was similar to enchanting the larger heating stones, but with a key difference.

Heat and light walked hand in hand when it came to fire; increasing one did the same to the other. But a lightstone filled with heat might burn anybody picking it up, ignite fabric it touched, or just make a room unbearably hot on a summer's night.

Thus, Martel had to strengthen the spell while also weakening it; or rather, enflame one aspect while quelling the other. Ideally, he should have learned this already when practising on the heating stones, which required the reverse to keep a room hot without blinding its occupants.

It had not occurred to Martel that this might be an issue until Master Alastair pointed it out to him, giving him a new challenge. At the same time, it tied neatly into what else he was being taught; whether channelling magic through gems or summoning two elements with precisely equal strength, it was all about control.

A year ago, Martel simply called upon magic and released it; he allowed himself to feel good about how far he had come before returning his attention to the dormant lightstone.

***

Soon after the bell rang, Master Jerome appeared. "How's that light coming?"

Martel looked down at the rock in his hand with a faint glow. "Not quite there yet. Though I meant to ask, where did you get this stone?" He held up the almost perfect sphere in his hand, clearly shaped by human intention.

"It's made by stonemages. One in particular who supplies these for Morcaster's streetlamps," Master Jerome explained.

"Is it possible to buy them? I should like to have some for myself."

"Not for ordinary folks. But tell you what, the Lyceum pays ten silver a piece. You bring me the coin, I'll get you the stones."

"That sounds great, thank you!"

The artificer smiled. "Certainly. By the way, may I borrow your belt? I brought another that you can use meanwhile." He extended his hand, holding the offered item.

Martel had wondered why Master Jerome walked around with a belt, but he assumed the artificer was in the middle of working. While curious what this was about, he trusted the craftsman implicitly. "Of course." Unbuckling his black belt, Martel swapped it for one of brown colour.

"I'll get it back to you," the artificer promised with a wink.

***

As the day waned, Martel left the Lyceum. A task awaited him that he had postponed for as long as he could. Being the last day of the month, he could not delay further. He either had to pay rent for Julia's room for the next month or accept she would not be returning and fetch his belongings from her place.

Walking to the harbour, Martel had not made a decision. He carried silver in his pocket should he choose the former; if he decided the latter, he had a bag in his hand to carry his cauldron and jars.

Reaching the insula, Martel approached the reeve's small office. The short man looked at him questioningly, but without saying anything.

Finally, Martel spoke. "Let me have the key. I'll take my possessions. Anything I leave behind, you may keep."

"Very good, master wizard."

Soon after, burdened by his belongings and the fear that he might have chosen wrong, Martel left the insula again.

He had not walked far before a Khivan man suddenly approached him. Immediately watchful, Martel extended his magic. Being in a crowd of people on the street, he got a disrupting impression of countless heat sources around him. This was to be expected; more importantly, he felt no cold areas from the Khivan, suggesting a lack of golden weapons.

Relaxing a little, but keeping his shield ready to be summoned, Martel addressed the other man. "What do you want?"

"Forgive me, Master Martel. I bring a message from my master."

"Give it here, then."

"It is spoken. He did not wish to introduce himself in a message that could be read by others." The Khivan stepped towards the edge of the street, indicating for Martel to follow. He did so, extricating himself from the crowd. "My master is known as the Fire Eater." He looked expectantly at Martel.

It took him a moment to remember. The Ninth Lord of the Khivan quarter. Martel's instinct was to throw the man aside and tell him to eat dirt in the Nether – but after Martel stopped the fire in the enclave, this Fire Eater had sent a considerable sum as a gift. While it did not earn him Martel's goodwill or necessarily an audience, the young wizard could not help but think of Shadi. Or the other Khivans he had seen on his visits, especially those thrown out of their homes by the cruel minions serving Duke Cheval. Knowing he might regret this, Martel inclined his head. "What does he want?"

"Simply a meeting. Tomorrow, if it suits the good master, the Fire Eater will welcome you in his home, at any bell that is preferable."

"Tomorrow suits me fine. I'll be there in the evening. What's his address?"

The Khivan smiled. "The streets have no names in the enclave. But ask any where the Fire Eater lives, and they'll tell you." The messenger gave a bow and joined the traffic moving up and down the street, soon disappearing from sight.