Theatrics in the Tavern

The two bells before he could leave felt like some of the longest that Martel had yet to suffer through. He was restless both hours working in the apothecary, and he could only put the least amount of necessary effort into his spells during his lesson in fire magic. If Moira berated him for this, he barely noticed; he was used to her barbs by now, and his fears about the current situation overrode any indignation he might otherwise have felt.

While Martel did not know the boy particularly well, Lady Pearl threatening Ian went against all his instincts. He understood that she worked on both sides of the law, but harming a child felt too far even for a criminal; even for a Ninth Lord. Martel wondered if, once he finished training as a battlemage, he would be powerful enough to intervene in a situation like this, instead of now where he just had to play along.

As soon as the bell rang to set him free, Martel left the castle. While he understood the immense value of his education at the Lyceum, at times like these, he almost resented the school for binding him with its rules and schedule. If he were his own master, he could have left this morning and overseen the release of Ian immediately rather than having to wait.

He tried not to think about the fact that once he left the Lyceum, he would simply exchange it for another master that would own the next twenty years of his life.

On the main street that led to The River Pearl, Regnar awaited him. Slowly exhaling smoke, the hedge mage finally removed his pipe and gave Martel a serious look. "Ready?"

Martel nodded. "Let's get your boy back."

***

A short while after, two wizards entered the Pearl. This early in the afternoon, few customers could be seen inside the place. Those present did cast lingering looks at the newcomers, remarking upon their contradictory appearance. One very young, the other rather old. The former dressed in impressive-looking red robes, the latter wearing an almost ragged and often patched coat. The taller of the pair looked almost angry with an air of danger surrounding him; the other, a pipe hanging from his mouth, seemed more wily and harder to determine.

As for the staff, they stared as well, though their expressions were nervous rather than curious. One guard disappeared into the back while the serving girls kept their distance. Martel noticed that for once, nobody approached him with offers to satisfy his desires for one thing or another.

Soon after, Lady Pearl appeared with a few of her female attendants, all of them armed and wearing plenty of golden jewellery. It took Martel a moment to spot Ian as well due to his short stature, walking alongside the bald proprietress, who kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Regnar!" the boy called out, making Martel clench his fists. He did not see Ruby among Lady Pearl's retinue, which almost disappointed him. After their last exchange, he wanted to look her in the face and ask her to justify this.

At the boy's outburst, Lady Pearl renewed her grip on him, and the whole little procession came to a halt some ten paces away. "I'm told you wandering rats finally cleared out of my district."

Removing the pipe from his mouth, Regnar gave Ian a reassuring look before turning his gaze on Lady Pearl. "My companions have all gone, yes. It's just me left. Now release the boy to me." His voice sounded cold with nothing of his typical joviality. Martel knew that for all his harmless appearance, the man was still a wizard; it felt unwise of Lady Pearl to provoke him. Glancing around at the room, he wondered if she did it for the sake of her own people, to demonstrate her power. Or perhaps she simply figured she could get away with it, and it amused her to do so.

Lady Pearl looked down at Ian by her side. "This little rascal. We found him trespassing. You really should teach him better."

"I wasn't doing anything –" A hand across his face silenced the boy.

"Quiet when the adults are talking, dear," the bald woman chastised him. "And if you were about to call me a liar, be grateful I interrupted you beforehand."

"The boy has learned his lesson," Regnar said. "You won't see any of us in the bridge district again. Now, may we leave?"

Lady Pearl looked from the hedge mage to the battlemage. "That goes for you as well, darling. You are not welcome here anymore." Her voice, which had been soft, almost teasing, became harsh. "Must I explain the consequences if any of you return?"

Martel was dearly tempted to reply affirmatively. What exactly did she think she could do against a battlemage backed by the Imperial administration? But he understood this was as much theatre as what had taken place in the basement below the Four Flagon Tavern. Lady Pearl had picked a fight with the troupe, including him, and she needed everyone to see her emerge victoriously. "We understand. I won't be back."

Mollified by their assurances, she released her grip on Ian, who ran forward to wrap his arms around Regnar. "Let's go."

The two mages and their young companion turned around and walked out of the common room, followed by stares, whispers, and laughter, some of it sounding relieved.

Once outside on the street, Martel continued walking only to find Regnar standing still. Frowning, he looked at the hedge mage.

Pushing Ian away a little, Regnar raised his hands and pointed them with palms outwards at The River Pearl. "Spirits of the Nether, I call upon thee. Ascend from the depths to take nest within this place. Let joy be smothered and grief unleashed. Let health falter and sickness grow. Let life wither and darkness triumph," he chanted with eyes wide open. As he finished speaking, he shut his eyelids fast, taking deep breaths. "Let's get away from here."

***

They walked for a while in silence. Ian held Regnar's hand, and the hedge mage seemed his old self again; still, Martel kept looking at him through the corner of his eye. Finally, he felt it necessary to say something. "What was that?"

The hedge mage snorted in response with a chuckle of laughter. "Just a few lines from one of our plays. I didn't want that old hag to think she could get away with this."

"It sounded like a curse," Martel mumbled. In fact, although he had never witnessed an act of maleficus, he figured it would look something like that.

"That's the point. I didn't want to do it to her face – it would have started a fight. But the people out on the street, they noticed," Regnar claimed. "They'll spread the word of the crazed old hedge mage, cursing that place. Soon, every bit of ill luck that happens there, even just a waitress tripping over her own feet, will be attributed to this spectre I've conjured. People will feel uncomfortable, they'll prefer going other places, and that hag will know our revenge."

"Seems like a lot for just a rumour to accomplish," Martel considered. If truly no magic lay in the words spoken by Regnar, he could not imagine they would have such power.

"It's not all. When we return to Morcaster, we'll bring a new play with us. It'll have a villain, a bald woman, who meets a cruel fate," the hedge mage promised. "A fate shared by any who drinks at her tavern. I tell you, lad, we won't let this rest."

"She'll be sorry," Ian declared. "I'll never forgive her."

Martel took a deep breath and exhaled. While he understood their sentiment and could even agree with it, he suddenly felt it like a burden; another strife, another reason for fights to break out and children be endangered. "I guess as long as you do it outside the bridge district." He looked ahead as the road split, leading north towards the gate or west towards the Lyceum. "Stars watch out for you."

"Same to you, lad. Thanks again for your help," Regnar told him. Ian gave him a hug, and they parted ways.