Firebrand

Chapter 273: Co-workers

Chapter 273: Co-workers

Co-workers

When Moira stepped into the Circle of Fire, her scowl seemed deeper than usual. Martel could guess why; their performance yesterday against the mageknights had not gone any better than last fiveday. He was not sure what she had expected; they had lost against six, so it only stood to reason they would fare even worse against eight.

"I am appalled by what I saw yesterday," she said.

The acolytes all avoided her gaze, looking down at the ground or off to the side.

"Before those mageknights have finished their charge against you, four of them should be on the ground, writhing in pain." She gave a harsh look towards Edward; Martel guessed that meant he had missed his initial spell. "As for you two," she continued, pointing first at Harriet and then at Martel, "leaving an ally to fend for themselves is a great way to lose any fight."

"I took down two attacking her," Martel protested.

"Once she had three on her," Moira added. "Making it certain she would go down."

Harriet smirked, seeing Martel reproached.

"Don't you smile, girly!" Their teacher turned her fury on the female acolyte. "You did exactly the same to him."

"It seems only fair he got the same," she grumbled.

"Quiet! Excuses are pointless. Only winning matters. If you lot can't fight together, you'll be dead on the ground in your first battle."

"What did you expect, pitting us against each other?" Martel felt his anger burning inside of him. Being chastised for making mistakes was one thing, but he would not accept blame from the teacher responsible for creating this situation.

Moira gave him a long look. "Only by competing with each other might any of you stand a chance to become good enough. But if you morons can't put that aside when fighting a common enemy, I'm wasting my time." She moved her gaze to linger at the other acolytes. "In battle, do you think you get to choose the soldiers by your side? Or that if you survived the fight, it doesn't matter who else died? There's always another fight coming and another. Every soldier you lose makes the next battle all the harder."

Martel still felt angry, but he could not find an argument against her. He thoroughly disagreed with how she trained them, but he lacked the experience or insight to suggest an alternative.

"New exercise. Martel, William, you're fighting together against Harriet and Edward. If you take three hits, you're out of the fight. First one down gets detention tonight."

They hardly needed more motivation to avoid being hit; every fire bolt carried a nasty sting by now. Watching the other pair walk to the opposite end of the chamber, Martel stuck his head close to William. "Edward's the easier target. We take him out first and then her."

The other acolyte gave a nod, and they separated, taking positions some paces apart.

"Fight!"

The room exploded with fire as all the acolytes hurled spells through the air. Martel was constantly in movement, trying to evade, though he still took a hit. Meanwhile, Edward found it impossible to withstand the onslaught. If Martel's spell did not strike, William's did.

"Edward! You're out!" Moira yelled, keeping score.

The lanky acolyte went down as the first, leaving Harriet on her own. Two against one quickly led to the expected outcome. Moments later, she was counted out as well. Martel shared a brief, smug smile with William.

"Why did you win?" Moira asked.

"We're better," William declared.

The teacher slapped him across the face. "Arrogance will get you killed."

"We worked better together," Martel said, giving what he figured was the desired reply.

Moira nodded. "You used your information to determine the weaker link." An unhappy expression floated across Edward's face. "And you worked together to gain the upper hand." She gave a snort. "Alright, let's try this again before you switch teams."

***

Just one more lesson in fire magic, and the worst of the fiveday was over. Martel cleaned himself in his room – he would save the bath until after the second lesson – and went towards lunch with a healthy appetite.

Crossing the entrance hall to reach its dining counterpart, he recognised Flora. She likewise spotted him, giving him a wink. He hurried over, glancing around. "What are you doing here?"

"If you won't visit, I'll have to come to you."

"I'm trying to avoid attention," he said quietly.

"Come along. I'll buy you something to drink. We can talk elsewhere." She gave him a challenging look. "Or I can stay here?"

"Fine." He trudged out of the castle after her, shivering slightly in the cold without his cloak or cap.

Flora led him to the tavern across the street, familiar to Martel from playing host to their previous meetings. With two fingers as a gesture towards the barkeeper for ale, she sat down. Martel joined opposite her, looking at her expectantly.

"I'm a little hurt you ignored my messages."

"I am under a lot more scrutiny now."

"Good thing we're known for being discreet." The earthmage smiled at him. "And we have a new job where the client insisted on two wizards. That's why he came to us, having heard about our previous exploits."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

"Not even if it pays three and a half crowns?" She raised one eyebrow.

Martel had been ready to leave, but the number gave him pause. Thirty-five pieces of silver was a hefty sum. Still, he had no need of money.

Seizing on his silence, Flora continued. "The client is the Friar. Job is really simple. Just guarding some goods for one night."

One of the Nine Lords, Martel surmised; he vaguely recollected a man in clerical vestiges. "With a price like that, there's more involved."

Flora shrugged. "The cargo is very valuable. It's coming in on a ship tomorrow, and secrets are like sailors. As soon as a ship docks, they all flee ashore."

"He must expect company to pay such a sum."

"It's certainly a possibility, or we wouldn't be needed. But it might also be the most coin you'll ever get paid for sitting in a house until sunrise."

"Tempting, but I think I'll pass. I just don't need the trouble."

"And you think you won't need the money?" Flora stared at him.

"Not right now, no."

"What about tomorrow? The last jobs you did, your brother was sick. What happens if he gets sick again? Or someone else you care about? Wouldn't you rather have that money available instead of being forced to look for opportunities?" The earthmage kept her gaze locked on him. "The money is here, now. I can't promise that when you need it, I'll have another opportunity for you."

Martel slowly exhaled. It had been awful trying to get the money for the cure to heal John. Begging for loans from his friends, counting every penny, waiting and praying for any task that might pay him… His new arrangement with Mistress Rana paid him thirty silvers a month, but half of that went to Julia's rent. She needed food, clothes, at least another blanket, definitely soap, a brush for her hair, and probably many other things. "Fine. Tell me more."