Chapter 324: Runes, Hedges, and Alchemy
Runes, Hedges, and Alchemy
Despite feeling strange about something so trivial – Martel did not even know if Ruby had noticed him – the evening spent at the Four Flagon Tavern proved to be the best in a long time. Martel found himself still laughing the day after, remembering particular scenes or witty remarks. And the company had been excellent; his two best friends together with an hour spent making merry with the actors afterwards.
Waiting for Master Fenrick to arrive, Martel toyed with the idea of returning to the theatre. He had rarely been so entertained in his life; the only argument against would be that it took an entire evening of his time, which could be spent practising spellwork or other such pursuits. contemporary romance
"Good morning, students. Another delightful bell of Tyrian runes awaits us."
Even if the words were spoken with a flat voice, Martel believed that Master Fenrick meant them. He truly took pleasure from discussing these matters of lore, whether Archean letters or Tyrian symbols. Given that the latter gave access to a new kind of magic, Martel felt the same way about that particular subject.
"I trust everyone found time to study the rune we discussed last fiveday?"
Martel had, sort of. They were supposed to practise drawing it, which he had done for a while. But he had been unsure for how long to do this, or how many times; since the simple exercise involved no magic at that point, he could not measure whether he was getting better, or doing it well enough. So after a while, he had just stopped to practise Sindhian magic instead.
Master Fenrick unfurled a large piece of parchment and held it up to show the rune of warning. "The word of activation is, though I'm sure you all remember, vara. And this means?"
Martel quickly raised his hand, eager to give the impression that he had studied the material. "To warn."
The teacher nodded, even as Martel heard Cheval nearby scoff. "Figures that the Tyrian half-breed knows." Nobody reacted, and Martel chose the same response.
"To recapitulate," Master Fenrick said, "this is a passive rune, meaning it will stay dormant until triggered by an outside action. In this case, movements by a person near it. How the rune knows to differentiate between a human and, say, a deer, I cannot explain. In general, passive runes, at least those known to us, only work on humans. The skálds are cunning like that."
Martel thought about his own rune token in his pocket, lying dull and grey, and those shining with magic such as the one he had seen in Lady Pearl's study.
"Now, time for you to actually give this a try. Each of you, draw the rune on your own parchment. Focus on your desire to be warned of any movement, and when you are ready, hold out your hand above the symbol and speak the word," Master Fenrick instructed them.
The symbol was simple, little more than a few lines crossing each other, but Martel still looked carefully at the example in his teacher's hand as he drew his own. When done, he looked down and thought about being warned. Once he felt ready, he held out his hand. "Vara."
Nothing happened. Feeling slightly disappointed, Martel looked around at the others. Whenever anyone felt bold enough to try and speak the relevant word, they did so to the same result as him, which did make Martel feel a little better. Still, he got the feeling that learning this would be as gruelling as when he had picked up any other kind of magic. Taking a deep breath, he once more looked down on the symbol and focused his mind to try again.
***
After two hours without discernible progress in Tyrian runes, Martel rather enjoyed his lesson with Master Alastair. Casting spells that he knew, even if he was still learning and improving, felt good after a bell of frustration. And he had cracked most of the facets of the elemental bolt; it could not be much longer before he had mastered the spell.
Likewise, following Mistress Rana up to her laboratory was a pleasure, now that Martel had gotten the hang of Sindhian alchemy. Certainly, he did much worse than her when it came to awakening the ingredients, but given that she was a master alchemist, Martel did not let this bother him. The fact that he had successfully brewed potions all on his own was good enough for him. He was only concerned now about learning more recipes.
As he saw the ingredients for the potion of cold waiting for him, Martel remembered Julia's request. "Mistress, I was wondering – is there an elixir that helps someone to sleep?"
"Certainly there is. I can give you six hours of uninterrupted, restful sleep if so needed. But you are not nearly ready to learn that."
"Of course, mistress," he quickly assented.
"Why? Do you sleep poorly?" She gave him a scrutinising look.
Martel shook his head. "Not at all. One of my friends asked, that's all."
"I see. Well, get to work. Time is wasting away."
"Right away, mistress."
***
When the work was done and bottled up, once Mistress Rana had squirrelled away the fruits of his labour, she returned with something in each hand. Five pieces of silver in one; a small vial in the other. "This is a potion of blissful sleep," she told him. "You can have your wages for the fiveday, or you can choose the potion if you have greater need of it." She moved her hands up and down, weighing each choice as it was mentioned.
Silver was always good, but Martel had plenty for now, and he would earn more, whereas it might be a long time before he learnt this recipe. His decision made, Martel accepted the potion.
***
After a long day of learning no less than three different schools of magic, Martel felt ready to rest. Of course, he would have to continue practising before that; he could not spend an entire evening doing nothing. And before he could even begin, a small note was delivered to him.
Dear boy,
I heard you came by.
What do you think of our home?
Hedge mage no more, just a
mage! Come again some time,
I'm back with the troupe. freew ebnove l.com
Regnar
Despite his ambivalent feelings towards the no longer wandering mage, Martel did feel curious about what the old wizard had been up to. Who knew? Perhaps Regnar could show him a bit of spellwork that the Lyceum would not teach. Open yet another branch of magic for Martel. But such would have to wait for tomorrow.
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