Chapter 344: Keeping Up Appearances
Keeping Up Appearances
Fighting with the blindfold on was sufficient challenge on its own, and Martel did his best to focus on the training rather than be distracted by his thoughts regarding the meeting with the Friar. Yet as soon as he left the Circle of Fire after his morning lesson, his mind went over the matter again. contemporary romance
This proved mostly futile, as he knew too little to even speculate. Any of the Nine Lords, other than the Friar presumably, might have their own reasons for stealing the relic. And without knowing anything about how it had happened, Martel could not even begin to guess at how to conduct the investigation.
His lessons done, Martel returned to his room and found the small note given to him by the Friar. He noticed the appointed hour was in the evening; the old monk, one of Morcaster's Nine Lords, respected Martel's need to attend school, at least, which felt almost comical to point out.
Restless from his speculations, Martel decided to be on his way. Arriving early to the meeting place would not be bad either, giving him some time to look around; although the Friar seemed genuine in his intentions, Martel had finally learned not to let his guard down. Even if the monk proved reliable, hunting thieves working for another Ninth Lord could prove dangerous.
***
As it turned out, the note sent Martel to a small tavern so difficult to find, he only just arrived in time. With last bell ringing from a nearby temple, he walked inside and glanced around. The only people here appeared to be locals, workers of one craft or another, gathering for drink or a meal at the end of the workday. If this was an ambush, Martel was impressed by their disguises.
Having eaten at the Lyceum, Martel got himself an ale and sat down on a chair. He drew plenty of stares, clearly standing out, but people quickly resumed their own conversation.
It took only a brief while before a man stood up and walked over to join Martel. "You're punctual. I appreciate that."
"Likewise." As with the Friar, Martel figured it best to say less and hear more.
"You don't recognise me, I imagine. But even if we had never met before, I'd know you to be a wizard from a mile away." The man gave half a smile, similar to Kerra's, hovering between friendly and condescending. Martel immediately took a dislike to him for that.
"When did we meet?"
"Ah, a certain place below our feet, in a circle surrounded by nine illustrious citizens of this city. I use the term lightly – I can't imagine the Khivan is actually a citizen of our glorious Empire."
Martel frowned, glancing at the man seated by his side. He did not recall seeing this guy at the meeting in the Undercroft, but there had been lots of people attending the Nine Lords. He felt sure that this fellow was not one of the actual masters, though.
"It would be my wont to play this game a while longer, but wizards are not known for their patience in parlance, so I shall speed your memory along. Imagine me wearing the brightest clothes like a jester fit for an emperor."
Martel's furrows deepened in his brow. "You're the Keeper of the Pact?"
He grinned. "I would give a bow equal in elegance to the title, but as we are seated and trying to remain inconspicuous, I shall spare you such fanfare. Aye, I hold that title along with associated privileges and duties."
He certainly sounded like the Keeper, Martel admitted, and it made sense that he had an interest in discovering the truth about the theft of the relic. "I didn't recognise you dressed like a spice peddler."
The Keeper laughed. "Well riposted. Indeed, my patchwork uniform is chosen partly to serve as distraction. Should any outside our circle of knowledge ever spy upon me during such gatherings, they're inclined to remember only that and little else."
Considering Martel had not recognised him at all, he had to concede that point. "Alright, so tell me about the stolen relic."
"To business, then. Very well." The Keeper's expression grew serious. "Some fivedays ago, the Hand of Saint Laurentius was stolen from the temple of same name, not far from our current location."
Martel blinked. The relic was someone's actual hand? He had heard about relics being pieces of dead saints, but it still felt strange to be chasing down someone's severed hand.
"The inquisitors investigated and proved lacking, as one might suspect. The temple was breached in part using magic, and while they might be adept at combatting it, they have limited knowledge otherwise."
"So that's what you need me for."
The Keeper nodded, his half-smile returning. "To us, magic is greatly unknown. There might be clues we are not even aware that we are missing because we lack the senses to search for them. The Friar did summon another mage to the place of the crime, of course, and she told us what little she could determine."
"Wait, so what am I supposed to do?"
"Another pair of eyes cannot hurt. Especially since you'll be going on the hunt with me, which the Friar's acquaintance could not. I've arranged for the temple to be empty tomorrow eve that you might inspect the crypt with me," the Keeper explained. "The other mage said that she could sense the lingering presence of the relic. As charm is my only magical skill, I cannot understand how that works, but it seems prudent you are given the same opportunity to investigate."
How odd. Martel did possess magic, and he could not guess at what this other mage meant either. "Fine. So we'll go there tomorrow? The Temple of Saint Laurentius, you say."
"Indeed. I have my suspicions on who might have perpetrated this theft, but I shall keep them to myself until you've had a chance to see the crypt. I do not wish to unduly lead your thoughts down a specific path."
Despite his love of longwinded talk and almost buffoonish behaviour in the Undercroft, Martel got the sense that this Keeper was a shrewd fellow after all. Definitely not to be underestimated. "Very well. Anything else I need to know?"
"Not at present. The temple is located in the district of the Basilica, as could be expected. Not far from the convent of the Sisters of the Sun. Be there at last bell tomorrow, and we'll begin our investigation in earnest."
A long walk tonight for little gain, Martel thought; they could have held this meeting and inspected the crypt on the same evening. But he guessed that both the Friar and this Keeper moved slowly, one step at a time; each of them had now had an individual face to face with Martel, letting them assess him.
Or perhaps they needed time to set up the ambush at the crypt. Regardless, Martel got up and left.
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