The Pact
Pelday morning, Martel did his work in the apothecary as usual, making ingredients ready for use and even mixing a few salves and simple redies. He had yet to learn any actual magic involving potion-making, what could properly be terd alchemy, but Mistress Rana had promised him that she would begin teaching him once he beca an acolyte. Until then, he did not mind doing the simple labour, as every hour spent in the apothecary made him better and better at all the basics. He usually worked alongside Nora, and it occurred to him that maybe she had so insight to share regarding his current pursuit as well.
"Nora, do people use potions in battle?"
She laughed. "Of course! There are elixirs for just about any purpose. Usually, the question is if people can afford them, and if there's anybody skilled enough to make them. Or if they even have the ingredients, of course."
"So it's not sothing poor people use?"
"Nah, they'd never be able to afford it. Both an alchemist and the necessary reagents are much too expensive. Why? Thinking about joining the harvest gas next year?" She laughed again.
"No, just wondering. If there are potions to make you faster or stronger, or maybe make you invulnerable to magic."
Nora stopped her work for a mont, staring into the air in contemplation. "I'm not sure how that would work. We use magic to make potions, so I don't see how you could make one that works against magic. You could try sothing with flecks of gold, but that would make it impossible to infuse with spellcraft, and you'd probably just get poison from drinking it." She laughed again. "You always ask such funny questions!"
~
In the afternoon, when he had so ti for himself, Martel ascended the astronomy tower. With the sun still up, it was too early in the day for making celestial observations of any kind; thankfully, others had done so in the preceding centuries and marked it all neatly on a chart. He stopped a few floors shy of the observatory atop the tower and entered the classroom.
Several mories ca to mind, making him montarily forget his purpose. His first lessons had taken place in this chamber, struggling to learn astronomy. He did not miss that, nor the feeling of isolation, being seated among all these acolytes who knew each other, knew magic, and had neither ti nor interest for an overgrown novice from the North.
But this was also where he had completed his first course at the Lyceum, despite all his hardships with arithtic. Here, he had befriended Eleanor, even if their first couple of conversations had suggested enmity.
It struck him how much he missed her. While he had never spent as much ti with her as he did with Maximilian – talking most days and sharing both adventures and misfortunes – he knew she ant sothing special to him. The way she sotis with a look or well-chosen word could make him feel seen in ways others did not. He wondered if he would one day make another friend who could make him feel the sa way.
Pushing such thoughts aside, he returned to his task. On the wall hung a great map detailing the movents of all the important stars and, pertinently for Martel, the moon. It took him nurous attempts of calculation until he felt confident. He could have asked soone, of course, but he felt like he had asked enough questions on this matter already to people around him. It was one thing wondering how one might fight a maleficar. Asking when the next full moon would be, when said wizard could be expected to make an appearance, would raise an alarm bell or two.
At length, Martel felt sure. The night between Solday and next Pelday, one fiveday from now. He and his copper recruits would be ready.
~
After another night of training Kerra's guards, Martel approached the Copper Lady in her chamber. She looked up as he entered.
"The Copper Mage himself. Sothing on your mind?"
"Two things. The magic potential of the full moon will reach its height on the night between Solday and Pelday," he told her.
She nodded. "We'll be vigilant. And the other thing?"
"Have you heard anything regarding Tibert since the last ti? Just wondering if he is up to anything. You have spies in his place, right?"
"I have his place and the man himself under observation at all tis, should he leave. But I think he has accepted his loss for now. He ca rather close to breaching the Pact of the Nine Lords with his little performance during the Golden Harvest."
Martel looked at her, confused. "I don't – who?"
"Right. You wouldn't know." Kerra stood up and walked around her desk to approach him. She held up her hand, showing him a signet ring. It had a curious symbol, like an X with a vertical line down the middle. "Morcaster is divided into nine districts. Each has its own chief, running their territory. The Nine Lords. Or Lady." She smiled wryly.
Staring at the ring, he wondered at the exact significance of the symbol. "And what's the Pact?"
"We have sworn to follow two rules. We don't run business on sobody else's territory, and we don't try to kill each other."
"That's surprisingly rciful of you," Martel considered.
Kerra shrugged. "More like practical. Before the Pact, we spent all our ti and money trying to murder each other. Food tasters lasted two or three days at most. We used our silver on enchanted objects and our gold to protect ourselves against magic, lting down coins just to have enough tal. We caused a coinage crisis, or so I like to believe," she added with a smirk.
"But Tibert attacked you, he tried to burn down your tavern!"
"You may not have taken note of it, but he waited until I was outside. Though it was reckless of him nonetheless. Had things gone out of hand, had I died in that altercation, the remaining Lords would have banded together to eliminate him. No excuses, no exceptions. If one of the Nine Lords kills another, they must die as well. It's the only way we can keep each other in check," Kerra explained.
"So you think he's learned his lesson? He won't try again?"
"I hope he will cut his losses. But if not, you will know. You're one of us – the copper lanes protect their own."
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