Fits Together like Clockwork
Like yesterday, Martel said little during his hours in the apothecary. Nora seed to sense his mood, as she made little attempt at conversation. As soon as the bell rang, he finished up and left with only the briefest of farewells. In so ways, he was angrier at Nora than at Jasper; she had pretended to be his friend all this ti, gathering information to be used against him.
When his work for the day was done, Martel left the Lyceum, hoping to also leave such thoughts behind, if only for a while. It was Solday, and spending ti with Shadi should cheer him up.
Walking through the market district, he noticed that like yesterday, fewer people were on the streets. It could not only be due to weather, as today was pleasant without snow or rain, if a bit cold. Trade was slowing down, he surmised; much like a bear, Morcaster was entering hibernation for the winter. The docks were far less busy as well; no ships sailed from the north to the city, nor did any depart for the Western Isles across the great, open sea, with winter storms on the horizon.
As he reached the Khivan enclave, Martel saw the sa repeated, as the streets lay mostly bare. Yet he encountered an exception as he approached the small temple square. Lots of people had gathered, though he could not yet ascertain why. While he heard murmurs, people sticking their heads together or shaking them, nobody was shouting or brandishing weapons. Assuming no danger was afoot, Martel approached.
A pitiful sight t him. A Khivan family stood on the streets, several children huddled together with their mother. As for the father, he argued – or perhaps pleaded – with an Asterian man. Judging by his clothing and appearance, he did not worry about his next al. He wore furs to ward against the cold, and he had an impressive waistline. anwhile, two others wearing armour with shields on their backs were busy hauling out furniture and belongings from the nearest house, piling it all onto the street.
Martel finally understood. The Khivan family was being evicted from their ho, in the onset of winter. The Asterian man in furs, looking like a rich rchant and with no trace of rcy in his beady eyes, had to be their landlord. Martel understood why he had two guards with him; even if the crowd was peaceful right now, their expressions ranged from sympathetic to angry, and the novice could easily imagine them becoming riled up. Several of the Khivan onlookers began glancing at Martel, not in a friendly way; he realised that he was the only other Asterian present, which would make the Khivans inclined to regard him the sa way they viewed the landlord. He hurried onwards.
***
Reaching the watchmaker's workshop, Martel knocked and glanced around. Nobody had followed him or seed to show him any interest, but he was still glad when Shadi opened the door and allowed him to slip inside. "I got sothing for you," she said with a grin. "Well, we do. And I guess it's not for you as such, but you get to carry it back."
"Well, now I am intrigued, though I'm not sure if I should be excited or not."
From the back room, Master Farhad appeared with a beautiful clock in his hands, sa as the one ticking on Martel's drawer.
"Your friend's clock is finished!"
Martel had completely forgotten about that. It had only been a way for him to help Shadi with money. "It looks amazing! Max will be so pleased."
The watchmaker placed the fruits of his labour carefully on the table in the room. "More of your friends want clocks, you tell them."
"I definitely will."
***
Martel spent a rry while at the watchmaker's ho, talking and laughing with Shadi while drinking tea. He still had a long way to go before he would enjoy the taste, but the company more than made up for it.
When he finally left, carrying Maximilian's clock inside a box, he walked the sa way ho. The gathering on the street had gone, as had the evicted family. Martel hoped soone else had taken them in, given the cold night ahead. Morcaster had plenty of holess people already.
As he reached the docks, Martel did not continue straight ho, but instead went to the insula playing host to the Night Knives.
Marcus gave him a surprised look as he opened the door. "Are you ant to co by today?"
Martel took a deep breath. "I need your help."
***
Sitting at the table in the apartnt, Martel looked at Flora and Marcus. He had explained his predicant, though leaving out details that might incriminate Mistress Juliana or Master Alastair.
"Why did you not tell us before?" Flora asked.
"I was ashad." And concerned that the more people who knew, the greater the risk for his favourite teacher to get sacked.
"Which is what this Jasper relies on. Marcus, stop staring at the box."
The warrior kept his eyes on the small crate containing the Khivan clock. "Boxes should not make noises," he muttered.
"But what should I do?"
"How did he find out about you? Our work together?" the earthmage asked.
"He works in the mail delivery. He must be reading all notes that don't arrive in envelopes. I think he also followed here. And he might have had soone, who I thought was my friend, ask questions without getting suspicious."
Flora nodded. "Well, if he has no qualms about extorting you, and he has such access to information, I imagine he is doing it to others. And what's he spending this money on? I could well imagine he uses it to fund vices of his own. You must turn the tables on him."
"How? I don't have the access he does, and I can't follow him around when I have classes."
The earthmage opened her arms in a gesture conveying magnanimity. "What are friends for?" She looked at Marcus.
The warrior shrugged. "Why not? I'm bored anyway."
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