Firebrand

Chapter 26: Faire Behaviour

Chapter 26: Faire Behaviour

Faire Behaviour

Typically, when Martel had to spend second bell on Soldays assisting the artificer as part of his schedule, time passed by easily. The work was monotonous, but if he let go of his thoughts, the two hours had soon passed.

Not so this morning. Today, the spring faire began. Martel did not know what to expect; in Engby, celebrating the arrival of spring lasted one day and mostly focused on eating the last of the winter pork. In Morcaster, the celebration centred around the marketplace and would last for days, promising all sorts of entertainment. And with Eleanor forgiving him any sense of debt, his pouch was full of silver.

~

"Calm your steps," Maximilian told him as they waited in the entrance hall. Martel, animated by excitement, kept pacing around.

"But there's going to be so much to see," the novice replied. "People from all over the Empire and beyond, selling goods and doing tricks. I saw a travelling jester once who conjured a bird out of nowhere!"

The mageknight gave him a look. "Nordmark, those are charlatans. You are a mage. You can perform a thousand feats more impressive."

"Right. Forgot I wasn't five anymore," Martel admitted. He opened his hand and ignited a small flame, letting it dance over his fingertips from one to the other.

"There you are. Ready to strike out and become a wandering conjurer of tricks yourself, sleeping in ditches and performing for pennies."

"You don't make it sound very glamorous."

Maximilian raised his eyebrows. "Wonder why. Ah, there she is." Eleanor appeared down the hallway, joining them.

She gave them both a cautious smile. "I am ready. Let us see what the spring faire may offer."

~

It was a short walk from the Lyceum to the great marketplace. Rather than a single space, it consisted of a dozen squares connected by small pathways, all of them brimming with traders. Many of the usual vendors were gone, renting out their stall for the fiveday to the travelling peddlers and enjoying the faire themselves. Alongside those, countless carts filled whatever room remained vacant, acting as moving shops. Standing at the edge of this sprawling market, met by a plethora of colours, noises, and smells, Martel's excitement only grew.

They went down one of the small alleys crowded with stalls selling ribbons, buttons, combs, knives, shawls, scarves, handkerchiefs embroidered with a name for two extra pennies, and many more things. All throughout, Martel kept one hand on his purse by his belt; he had never walked around with this much coin on him, and the thought of theft constantly lurked in his head.

Pushing past the peddlers, all shouting to gain their attention, the trio emerged into one of the bigger squares dominated by food vendors and more unusual items for trade.

"Do we have a destination in mind?" asked Eleanor. "Our course seems determined."

"Martel has a friend we're meeting," Maximilian replied. They walked two steps behind the novice; as the latter spotted Shadi, he hurried forward. "She is Khivan, if you did not notice."

Eleanor watched Martel give Shadi a quick hug. "I did, but thanks."

The one pair returned to the other. "These are my friends, Maximilian and Eleanor. They're mageknights. I have classes with them," Martel said in introduction. "This is Shadi."

"Hullo!" the Khivan girl said. The two acolytes inclined their heads in greeting. "You're mages as well? I never thought I'd know one, and now the count is three!"

"Well, if Martel is your only impression of us so far, I certainly hope you do not hold it against the rest of us," Maximilian said light-heartedly.

"Hey!" Martel crossed his arms while the others laughed or smiled.

A moment of silence passed. "I see honey-cakes," Shadi ventured to say. "Anyone else want one? I'll pay."

"We will have supper next bell," Eleanor said.

"Come on, Fontaine." Maximilian prodded her. "We both had practice today. One cake will not spoil your appetite."

"I could certainly go for one," Martel added.

"I will not stand in the way, in that case," Eleanor conceded.

They gathered around the small cart, waiting behind a bunch of eager children. Maximilian tapped his foot impatiently. "One small push, we would not have to wait," he muttered.

"Maximilian, behave," Eleanor reproached him.

"I am merely saying."

Martel looked at Shadi and rolled his eyes; a gesture he only dared because he stood behind Maximilian, but it made her laugh.

Suddenly, three of the group stiffened. As the last one, Shadi glanced around before looking back at him. "Something wrong?"

Martel nodded towards where a pair of inquisitors walked through the square.

"Those are from the temple of the Sun? Isn't that your faith?"

"It is complicated," Eleanor admitted.

"They hunt for renegade spellcasters," Martel explained. "To them, all mages are suspicious. We're not fond of each other, you might say." He remembered his encounter with them some months ago, being needlessly questioned and treated like a criminal.

"Martel here already had a run-in with them," Maximilian growled. "They grabbed him and interrogated him about matters that happened before he even came here. Fools, the lot of them."

"You never told me," Shadi said. "That sounds unpleasant."

Martel shrugged. "It was over quickly."

"Hah, thanks to Eleanor," Maximilian pointed out. "She ran like a rabbit to get Master Alastair when it became clear that Master Reynard would not lift a finger."

"I did not run," Eleanor retorted. "I walked. At a brisk pace."

Martel thought back on the day in question. He had never considered who had fetched Master Alastair for his sake. It had been his early days at the Lyceum; strange to realise that already back then, Eleanor had acted in his defence.

"Who's hungry?" Shadi held out a handful of honey-cakes, letting each of the mages take one.

~

They idled around the square or the nearby alleys, investigating the many peddlers. The occasional entertainer passed through as well, juggling fire or putting on puppet shows for the children. "Parlour tricks," Maximilian grumbled as one man swallowed fire, only for it to blossom once he pulled the rod from his mouth. The acolyte finished his mug of ale.

"Why don't you do better, master mage," Shadi teased him.

"It is beneath my dignity," the mageknight huffed. His gruff exterior cracked, and he drew his sword. Swinging it in circles around him, prompting indignant outbursts and swift retreats, Maximilian demonstrated his skill with increasingly complex manoeuvres. Finally, he threw the sword high into the air. It fell straight down, with the tip first.

Just before it reached the ground, he lashed out with his hand to grab it by the hilt. A little sooner, he would have sliced his fingers open on the blade; a little slower, it would have gone past him. While the nearby children applauded and yelled, their mouths stuffed with honey-cake, Maximilian sheathed his sword.

Shadi clapped her hands. "I see they teach you valuable things at that school."

"Yeah, I am ready to join the theatre," Maximilian snorted, but the glint in his eye showed him to be pleased. "Excuse us for a moment. I have manly business to discuss with Martel." He grabbed the novice by the arm and pulled him away from the girls.

"What's going on?" Martel asked.

Maximilian nodded. "That old woman sells perfume. Good idea for a gift. Hurry and buy one while I distract your Khivan liaison." He gave Martel a push in the back.

Too taken aback to question anything, the novice approached the woman, who had a large box lined with cloth. Inside lay a dozen little clay pots.

"Come closer, young master! Here to buy something that'll give any woman a scent as sweet as she looks, eh? Or for your own use – very much the fashion these days among young men," the peddler claimed.

"What kind of scent?"

She dove into the box and pulled out one small jar, uncorking it. "Let your nose find out."

Martel took a deep sniff. A powerful scent rose, filling his nostrils to the point that his eyes watered. "Strong," he croaked.

She cackled. "Just a few drops will do. I don't sell watered down concoctions. How about this?"

The old woman took another and opened it. Cautiously, Martel inhaled a little. The scent of lavender filled him, giving him memories of butterflies and bumblebees in summer, flitting about flowers by the stream. "How much?"

"Five silvers, young master, and that's a bargain."

Martel had little knowledge of trading, but he knew you were meant to haggle. "Four."

"Fine. You'll send me to an early grave."

Given how old she looked, Martel felt that could hardly be possible. Had he been more experienced with peddlers, he might have been suspicious at how swiftly she agreed to his price.

He opened his purse and grabbed four silver coins, exchanging them for the clay pot. Placing it in his pouch, he cast furtive glances around as he tied it back to his belt, keeping one hand on it.

Martel returned to his companions, discovering Maximilian telling a tale that seemed to greatly entertain the girls, not to mention nearby listeners. He waited a few moments as his friend finished.

"Ah, he returns," Maximilian declared. "But the hour grows late, and supper beckons. A honey-cake only sustains my mighty form for so long, alas."

"What, you want to go back? But we've barely seen anything!" Martel argued. "And there's a theatre troupe playing tonight. I've never seen a play!"

"The faire is here for days," Eleanor reminded him gently.

"Fret not, my elemental-inclined friend," Maximilian continued. From his speech, Martel guessed that the mageknight had been drinking a lot more mugs of ale than he had let on. "We shall return tomorrow night and see your vaunted play."

"Oh, I can't tomorrow night. I have to help my dad. He's busy making the new clock for your school," Shadi chimed in.

"Day after tomorrow?" Martel suggested.

"I cannot, as I must attend my own family," Eleanor said. "But go without me. I am not much for the faire," she claimed.

"It is settled," Maximilian declared loudly. "We shall convene on Malday. For now, Martel, your honour demands that you escort your companion home. No, do not protest," he commanded, even though Martel had made no such inclination. "Her safety is paramount. I shall save you a slice of bread for supper, rest assured."

"Well, alright," Martel assented, a little perplexed. "I'll take you home, Shadi."

"It was nice meeting you," the Khivan girl told the mageknights.

"Likewise," Eleanor replied.

"A pleasure, assuredly," it came from the other acolyte.

The four split up, two walking south and two walking north.

"You are devious when drunk, if not exactly subtle," Eleanor remarked.

"My lady, I have no knowledge of what you intimate."

~

It took Martel and Shadi a while to extricate themselves from the market district; the later the hour, the more people arrived. Little work would get done elsewhere in the city for the next several days, as the nights would be spent with all manners of entertainment, helped along by strong servings of spirits.

His hand clutching his purse and feeling the clay jar underneath the cloth, Martel breathed a little easier once they were out of the crowded area.

"You alright?" Shadi asked. "You seem tense."

"Not used to so many people. And so close." He slowed down as they reached one of the broad streets that led towards the harbour.

"I'm guessing Engby doesn't have spring faires like this."

He chuckled. "No, it does not."

They continued in silence for a while. "Your friends are interesting," Shadi remarked.

"Yeah. They're nice. They helped me when I needed it."

"Maximilian is funny. And Eleanor is very pretty." She glanced at him.

"He's good company for sure. If expensive at times."

"Right."

"How's your father coming along with the clock? I can't wait to see it in the entrance hall."

"It's going fine. It's a lot of slow, careful work. One mistake, and it won't keep time. He drives me a little crazy sometimes," Shadi admitted. "Not sure he really needs my help tomorrow, or he just doesn't want me out of the house too much."

The road grew narrow, and they entered the Khivan enclave on quiet streets. To this eastern people, this afternoon was any other; their celebrations did not revolve around astronomy. Ahead, the small house with the sundial sign beckoned.

Shadi sighed. "Well, an evening of polishing tools awaits me. I hope yours is better."

"Just practising, I guess. My skills are still limited."

They reached the door. "You better hurry back. Or Maximilian will eat your supper." She laughed.

"Wait." Martel reached into his purse to dig out the perfume. "This is for you."

She accepted it, opening the lid. "Smells wonderful!" She gave him a quick hug, kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

Martel beamed. "You're welcome."

She slipped inside, throwing him a last look before closing the door. He turned to walk home, rubbing his cheek.