Pawns in Play

"There you are." Eleanor approached Martel at the breakfast table, giving Maximilian on the other side a nod. "I went through all of the symbols." She placed the rune token on the table next to Martel's meal.

"Any luck?" asked the novice, pushing his bowl of porridge to the side to better look at the pebble.

"A little, though I cannot say much. Since the Tyrians do not view magic or humans the way we do, I worry that the explanation in the book might not accurately translate what was meant originally," she admitted, looking consternated.

"It's fine. I figured it would be difficult. Maybe I'll solve it when I take the course in runes myself." Martel picked up the token, looking at its strange markings. He wondered if even Regnar knew what they meant, or under which circumstances he had acquired the stone.

"I did glean something. All of the symbols seem to be wards of some sort, so I do not think the old hedge mage lied to you." Eleanor pointed at the different sides of the token in Martel's hand. "The question is what they protect against. Evil of some kind, probably sinister magic, but who knows what that means to a Tyrian?"

Martel thought about the witches of the North and their curses. While he could not imagine ever encountering one in Morcaster, at least he was prepared for the situation. He suddenly remembered his whole ordeal yesterday, being chased by the crowd with accusations of evil magic as well. He pulled out a small vial from his pocket, the fruit of yesterday's labour and exertions; he had kept the flacon on him after completing the elixir, waiting for when he might run into Eleanor.

"This is for you. As thanks for looking into my pebble." He smiled at his own words as he placed the vial in her hand.

"What is this?"

"Pain remedy. In case looking at those symbols for me gave you a headache. Made it myself."

"That was thoughtful of you to make," she said with a faint smile, clutching the small bottle.

"It was no trouble at all." Granted, getting the ingredients had been troublesome, but making the potion had been easy. And now Martel could add a new recipe to his repertoire.

"I am glad you are learning alchemy. Helping people."

"He is a regular saint," Maximilian snorted, scraping his bowl for the last spoonful of porridge.

Shaking her head at the mageknight, Eleanor turned to leave. "I will see you around."

~

For his first class with Master Fenrick, Martel had as usual a question. Seeing the novice raised his hand, the teacher stared through his thick glasses before he finally relented. "Yes, Martel?"

"Master, have you heard about the Undercroft?"

"I have. The question is, how did you hear of this place?"

"I just heard people talking about it in town. But they didn't know much, so I figured there was only one person to ask." Adding a little flattery to his appeal never hurt, Martel figured.

"Did you now." Master Fenrick made some grumbling sounds while Martel waited for him to continue. None of the other novices seemed interested, but they had no reason to interfere. "The Undercroft is old. A testament to its builders that it has not crumbled to dust long ago. Certainly older than the Aquilan Empire, though nobody knows what caused the city to sink into the ground. I have never read of any plausible theories."

"There is a path from the Lyceum to the sewers," Martel mentioned, remembering his trip with Mistress Vana when learning about the waterways of the school in the city. "Does it lead there as well? Mistress Vana warned us of how the sewers connected to a larger area underneath the city."

"Why? Looking for a way to the Undercroft?"

"No, master. Just wondering at what lies beneath our feet." Martel already knew a path to this vaunted place, and he had agreed to go there as well. But any kind of warning of what to expect would be nice. The name alone sounded foreboding.

"Nothing friendly. A general rule for things that hide in the dark, underneath the earth and away from sunlight. I suggest you turn your attention to practising your spellpower this afternoon. I imagine you still have potential to unlock." His teacher gave him a stern look.

Martel bowed his head, ceasing his questions while Master Fenrick continued his lesson on how certain conjunctions of the stars might amplify magical power under very specific circumstances. When the time came for his second lesson that day, he did as told and practised his spellpower to the fullest of his ability.

~

Kerra sat in her study with a handful of golden coins and different gems on her desk when someone knocked on her door. "Wait," she commanded, sweeping the gems into her hand. She loosened a floorboard nearby and let the precious stones drop down. With those hidden and the floorboard back in place, she cleared the coins into a drawer in her desk. "Enter."

Her lieutenant, Vernon, stepped inside. "I've heard from Vitus. He is ready. If things go as planned with Tibert."

"Any chance he will betray us?"

The bald man shrugged. "It's certainly in his character, since he'll either betray us or his master. But I think we have made the right appeal to his ambition."

Kerra nodded. "Good. With confirmation of four Night Knives in play, I feel confident we have read him right. The only question will be how many to bring to the meeting."

"Wolfram and Sigrid are the best choices," Vernon suggested. "I'd say two more. With you and the mage boy, that makes six. Have you heard from him?"

"He is coming along. In fact, I better write him back." Kerra grabbed a scrap of parchment and took hold of her quill, dipping it in ink.

"Very good, my lady." Vernon bowed his head.

She smiled. "All our pieces are in play."