Book 7: Chapter 2: A wizard in town
It was more of a village than a town. At least it would not have any garrison, though it also meant it could hardly offer more than the most basic of luxuries; barely a step above what they had found in the homesteads of their journey so far.
A dirt road led around the hill and ended in a small square with a well, surrounded by a cluster of small houses and one larger building that probably served as a gathering hall for festivities, roadhouse for travellers, root cellar to store food, and other such needs the locals would have.
A trough for horses stood outside, filled with water capped by ice. Martel extended some magic to melt it, allowing their steeds to drink. From inside the larger building, bustling sounds could be heard, and light shone through the edges of the door.
It opened, and a man stepped outside, quickly shutting it to preserve the heat inside. “Travellers!” he exclaimed. He sounded merry, yet looked apprehensive, probably from noticing the sword by Eleanor’s waist.
“We seek shelter for the night,” she replied, bowing her head deeply; Martel figured that was a greater sign of respect than this fellow had received before from a patrician. “We can offer payment, and my companion has methods to make your days easier too.”
The villager looked as Martel took out his staff from a saddle bag. He could just have announced himself to be a wizard, but the ruby on top nestled inside exquisite carvings spared him the trouble. “Of course, master mage.” He licked his lips and seemed to shiver, not from cold, but nervous energy. “We have plenty of food prepared with the celebration coming tomorrow. And our hall is dry even in the worst of storms. There’s a lean-to on the other side of the building where your horses may sleep, once they’ve had their fill of water.” He glanced at the trough. “Huh. Would have thought it frozen solid.”
“Our luck,” Martel mumbled. He began unloading their bags; Eleanor was better with horses and would know to take care of the animals. “See you inside in a bit,” he told her, to which she nodded.
Following the villager inside, Martel was met by a sight that felt familiar. Tables and benches stood arranged, ready for a feast. A hearth had a strong fire going where food was cooking. At smaller tables, women chopped vegetables, carved up meat, and kneaded dough; a few were children, and one of them had a bruise. A couple of men were hanging up branches of pine trees, including one balancing precariously on a ladder.
“We have guests this night,” the fellow declared, whom Martel took to be the alderman of the village. “A wizard graces us with his presence.”
Everyone had already been looking at Martel; now they stared. He cleared his throat as he dumped his bags on the ground. “Sol’s peace to you all. My companion and I simply seek a place to shelter for the night.” He touched the purse by his belt. “We can pay for any comforts you provide.” “We have food and drink to spare,” the alderman told him, sharing a look at one of the women who nodded back at him, “although most will not be ready until tomorrow, so it’s simple fare tonight.”
“That’ll do just fine. My home is not much different from this place.”
“I can shoe your horses, should you have need,” declared the man holding the ladder for the other. Even before he had spoken, Martel could tell he was a smith by his arms, heavy from wielding a hammer all day.
“I’ll ask my companion. She knows best about such things.” Martel glanced around, finding an empty corner on the ground where they could sleep for the night when the time came. “If you have anything that resembles a bathtub, ideally not smelling of horse, we could both make use of that.”
“Of course, good master, I can have one fetched.” The alderman looked at the other men in the room. “I can also heat some water. It’ll just take a little while.”
“That’s not needed. I’ll heat it on my own.”
Several of the villagers looked uncomfortable. “Master mage, no disrespect intended, but the hearth is needed to finish making our food,” the old man said nervously.
“We’ll leave it to simmer overnight,” one of the women elaborated.
“I don’t need the hearth. I’ll heat the water directly,” Martel told them, already feeling tired of explaining himself. He regretted that they had gone here, seeking out other people; after so many days of only Eleanor’s company, he found it burdensome to deal with anybody else who did not understand him or his abilities.
“Of course. Forgive us.” The alderman gestured at the other men in the building, who disappeared out the door while Martel unclasped his cloak and unfurled their bedrolls. A moment later, Eleanor appeared. The villagers seemed apprehensive at this sight as well, seeing an armed women dressed in men’s clothing with a sword by her side, but nobody spoke.
“Sol’s peace to you all,” she declared, and they mumbled the same in return, bowing their heads. As Eleanor joined Martel in unpacking their equipment, the villagers resumed their work. All the while, Martel could feel their stares, and while he could not make out their whispers, he had an inkling of what words they exchanged.
Digging out one of his purses, Martel counted ten pieces of silver and placed them on the table near the alderman. “For any services your village provides us,” he explained, and the old man bowed his head while profusely expressing his gratitude. Going through his bags again, Martel pulled out a lightstone. “This will be better than the lamps.” Placing the enchanted object in the middle of the room to illuminate it all, he also reached out with his magic to extinguish the flames. Lastly, he opened the door and let a magic gust of wind sweep through to replace the odour in the room, heavy from lamp oil and human bodies. “That should be a little more comfortable for us all,” he muttered.
“Indeed, master mage.” The alderman glanced at each of them, hesitating before he spoke again. “You are of course invited to our festivities. We would never dream of barring travellers from joining us on solstice night.”
Especially not travellers with heavy purses of silver, Martel figured. Eleanor looked up from their saddlebags. “A kind offer, master alderman. Allow my companion and I to discuss the matter, and we shall inform you in the morning of our intentions.”
“Of course, of course.”
The villagers eventually finished their preparations. A bathtub was brought in and filled with water, and the travellers were left alone except for the big, simmering pot on the hearth. Martel extended a touch of magic until steam rose from the water in the tub. Eleanor quickly undressed, and he admired her shape before she got into the bath and noticed him looking. “You get in here as well, master mage. You need a good scrub as much as I do.”
Martel smiled, trying not to let his weariness show, and began to remove his clothing. “Aye, prefect.”