Firebrand

Chapter 147: Good Inquisitor, Bad Inquisitor

Chapter 147: Good Inquisitor, Bad Inquisitor

Good Inquisitor, Bad Inquisitor

While the encounter at the market had shaken Martel a little, it had been brief, and he had no reason to suspect any continuation. He had no further errands outside the school, after all, and he assumed the inquisitors focused their attention on the copper lanes. He spent the next day attending his morning lesson as usual, having more or less forgotten about the short interrogation other than briefly mentioning it to his teacher.

After lunch, in the bell before his second lesson with Master Alastair, Martel retreated to his room to relax and try a few exercises on his own before class. He had barely sat down before a heavy knock could be heard.

Even as he got up, the knocking continued in an insisting manner. He wondered if it might be Maximilian, as he could not imagine who else might seek out in his room. As he finally opened the door, he was taken aback to find the two inquisitors from yesterday staring at him.

"We got some questions for you," barked the shorter one.

Martel remembered the advice given to him after the last time he had been interrogated by inquisitors. "I want Master Alastair present. Or Mistress Juliana."

The blue-clad men moved into his room, forcing Martel back. "No need. We'll talk right here. You don't have something to hide, do you?"

Martel did not, but given the conversation yesterday, he did not trust these men to be swayed by truth alone. But they blocked his only exit from the chamber, and even if he dared to use magic to force his way through, their golden equipment made that impossible. "What do you want to know?" He remained standing, so at least they could not intimidate him by towering over him.

"You can tell us what reason a novice of the Lyceum might have for spending his time in the copper lanes," growled the taller man.

"I help some of the children there," Martel explained. "They cannot afford an apothecary, so I give them herbs and such."

"Again with the herbs. You spend a lot of time around plants, don't you?"

"Well, yes, I work in the apothecary here." Martel was confused. How did apothecary work relate to the hunt for the maleficar?

"Any of these plants dangerous?"

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"And you do, I take it. Including how to keep them dangerous," said the taller inquisitor while his companion began rummaging through Martel's drawer.

"Hey!" Martel protested, but he felt powerless to do anything about it.

"You look at me, boy, not at him. You ever see this symbol before?" His interrogator held up a chalk drawing of the sign used by the maleficar on the victims.

"Yes."

The shorter of the inquisitors stopped his search of Martel's belongings, and they both stared intently at him. "Where?"

"On a patient in the infirmary. Your people brought him here." It was abundantly clear to Martel that he should not mention Sparrow's kidnapper or the abandoned house in the copper lanes, where the symbol had been inscribed on the basement floor. These men were not looking for the truth, but a scapegoat, it seemed.

The shorter inquisitor held up Martel's silk shirt from the drawer. "Expensive clothes. How does a peasant from Nordmark afford that?"

"It was a gift." Martel snatched it from the short man's grip, angry at the thought of his dirty hands on the precious fabric. "From my friend, the viscount of Marche. I attended the solstice celebration at his family's palace. Also the one hosted by the duke of Cheval, who has offered me a position at his court. And Legate Fontaine of the First Legion, whose daughter gave me the other clothes in that drawer."

"Your connections won't save you from the Inquisition if you are guilty of maleficus," the shorter inquisitor sneered.

"Well, do you have any more questions?" Martel crossed his arms.

"Not for now." The taller of the pair looked at his companion and gestured with his head towards the door. Once they had gone, Martel closed the door and bolted it.

~

He still felt shaken when the bell rang, summoning him to the Hall of Elements. He usually felt safe within the Lyceum, at least safe from any dangers that might haunt the streets of Morcaster. While the inquisitors had interrogated him before inside the school, this time, they had reached all the way into his own chamber. His sanctum. It felt violated.

Master Alastair greeted him with an absent-minded remark, but when Martel did not respond, the teacher gave him a closer look. "Something the matter?"

"Remember I told you this morning about the inquisitors that questioned me yesterday? At the market," Martel clarified.

"Yes, what about them?"

"They came again, here, at the school. Just now."

His teacher frowned. "You saw them somewhere?"

"No, I mean, they came to my room. To question me. Asking me about herbs, my time in the copper lanes," Martel explained with a twinge of frustration in his voice over the whole ordeal.

"What have you been doing in the copper lanes?"

Although annoyed at being questioned about this again, Martel knew it would be foolish and unfair to antagonise Master Alastair, so he replied as neutrally as he could. "Helping some of the street children. Bringing them herbs and medicine."

"Ah yes. That time you contracted consumption. Well, it is outrageous that inquisitors are hounding you, considering that they should be hunting a maleficar. I will speak with Mistress Juliana to lodge a complaint and demand they change their methods," his teacher promised him.

Mollified, Martel was glad to know that, though he wondered if it would have any effect. The inquisitors did not seem like they cared about any authority other than their own. If they were willing to corner him inside his own room, they clearly did not respect boundaries in general.

"See if you can push it from your mind. Try the exercise with the whirlwind and the motes of flame," Master Alastair told him. "Once you master that, I believe you may be ready for both rain and lightning after."

Martel attempted to do as told, but he had little success practising his magic for the rest of the day.