Idle Explanations

Busy with his lessons most of the day, Martel intended to pay Lady Pearl a visit in the evening. A note reaching him around noon forced him to reconsider.

Martel,

I have discovered someone

talkative near my home.

I intend to ask a few questions

and see what might be learned.

If you wish to be present,

I suggest you join me today.

Kerra

He would not have time to visit both the copper lanes and the bridge district in one evening if he also wanted any semblance of a decent night's sleep. Considering that Kerra made this sound rather urgent, it seemed necessary to prioritise meeting with her. Lady Pearl would have to wait.

***

With swift steps, Martel walked to the copper lanes. He made haste, as it would take him most of the evening just walking there and back, and who knew how long the whole affair would take at The Copper Drum. Avoiding the piles of snow and keeping his cloak tightly around him, he looked forward to spring. It would probably be another month before that, however; the days still felt short and the nights long and dark.

Arriving at the tavern, the warmth and lights from inside beckoned to him as always. Every time, the sight cheered him up for a moment until he remembered who owned it. Just some months ago, he would never have imagined going back here; then again, ever since coming to Morcaster, he had done countless things he never could have imagined before.

Making his way to Kerra's study, the watchmen simply nodded and allowed him to pass. The final sentinel outside her door was the only one to make the visitor halt as he himself stepped inside. Rather than motion for Martel to enter, the guard gestured for him to wait; moments later, Kerra appeared in the hallway.

"I see that my letter aroused your curiosity." Her ever-present half-smile greeted him.

"I figured it was worth the journey," Martel admitted.

"Come with me." Kerra began walking, leading him deeper into her compound. They moved around winding corridors, twisting and turning to make Martel lose his orientation. The only thing he knew for certain was that their path led them downwards until they had to be underground. A lack of windows suggested this as well.

They passed rooms holding barrels and crates, suggesting this to be cellars for storage or similar. Martel was also reminded of their journey to the Undercroft; he presumed they would not have to descend quite that far.

Eventually, Kerra stopped outside a door with a guard. He nodded towards his mistress and stepped away. She pushed the door open – Martel noticed that while guarded, it had not been locked – and stepped inside. Martel followed.

The light of a few lamps from the hallway barely made it inside, though Martel both heard movement and sensed the body heat of someone curling up in a corner. The man in question mentioned by Kerra's note, Martel presumed.

"Would you mind a little light?" she asked.

Obliging, Martel summoned a flame to illuminate the space. He saw that he had been wrong on one count; the inhabitant of this improvised cell proved not to be a man, but a woman. She looked haggard from lack of sleep or the like; her clothes were dirty, but not ragged. He imagined she had been here a day or two.

Kerra squatted to be eye level with the woman. "You know who I am?"

"The Copper Lady."

She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at Martel. "And him?"

"The Copper Mage."

"I bet you also know what I told everyone in the district. Don't talk to outsiders, especially not about our mage friend here."

"I beg your pardon, milady! I just seen him bring gifts to the street rats in that old, abandoned house! I didn't think any harm would come telling that to anyone." The woman shook, either from the cold or from fear. She placed her arms around her shoulders to hug herself.

"You thought you would make a few easy pennies and that I would never find out," Kerra corrected her. "Now you got one chance to be honest, or the wizard here will solve your problems with the cold by setting you on fire."

"Please, no! I'll tell you everything!"

Martel assumed that Kerra was bluffing, which also seemed to work; he had no intention of burning someone alive.

"The man who bought your information – have you seen him since?"

"No, I swear! Just the one time!"

"Has anyone expressed an interest in buying your home?"

In the light of his summoned flame, Martel could see confusion flicker across the woman's expression before she replied. "No, milady, none."

"Master Martel, set her on fire."

Looking down at the frightened, defenceless prisoner, the acolyte hesitated. He could not tell if Kerra bluffed or actually expected him to follow through. Trying to make the threats seem real, he floated his conjured flame closer towards the woman.

"I swear by Sol and Luna, it's the truth!" she cried out with terror written all over her face.

It made Martel feel terrible for instilling such emotions in her, and he raised the flame a few inches upwards. "I believe her," he said quietly.

Kerra stood up, giving him an annoyed glance. "Fine." She stepped outside, as did Martel. Once the door had been closed, she looked at the mage again. "I would have thought you had a stronger stomach. I forget you're just a boy." Whether she meant the last statement as conciliatory or derisively seemed impossible to tell.

"Using magic for torture demeans it."

Kerra began walking back the way they had come. "If you think so. It's your area of expertise, after all."

"What will you do to that woman?"

"What do you care?"

"It seems harsh to punish her simply for talking about something innocuous."

"The topic of the conversation doesn't matter. These are the copper lanes, Master Martel. This is my area. Not only in terms of expertise, but in terms of everything."

Martel noticed an unusually hardened edge in her voice, and he sensed there was nothing to be gained from pushing further. He could still do something, of course; his magic made him more powerful than anyone in the compound, he reckoned.

But at the end of the day, he did not know the woman nor what Kerra actually would do to her. It was not his responsibility to help everyone in need, Martel told himself. He had no obligation towards someone whose careless words had gotten him into trouble. She would not have done the same for him if their positions had been reversed. Martel told himself these excuses – explanations – and more as he walked home to the Lyceum.