Book 7: Chapter 52: At the fingertips
The Asterian delegation stayed in a house larger than a merchant’s home, smaller than a nobleman’s mansion. It had a yard with a wall and a sturdy gate, and the windows were barred. Eleanor declared herself satisfied, though she intended to claim chambers on the top floor just for added measure.
The envoys, who had done the actual work of negotiating the peace, welcomed them. If they felt any bitterness at having Martel swoop in to do the actual ceremony, they hid it well. As for Eleanor’s demands regarding accommodations, this was accomplished without difficulty either. Soon after, the travellers could retire to their quarters and rest after the journey.
“This is a good view of the city,” Martel remarked, stepping onto the balcony attached to the room.
Eleanor began removing her armour. “You are also within sights of any sharpshooters.”
“Only if they can also fly.” The nearest houses were all much shorter, and the surrounding walls rose high enough to prevent line of sight. “Where did Wulfstan disappear to, do you think?”
“He probably noticed someone minding their own business and saw an opportunity to rope them into his schemes.”
“Did you notice the golden box he carried with him?”
“I did not. My sixth sense is not as finely honed as yours. But maybe you just felt some coins he had on him?”
Martel shook his head. “It was definitely shaped like a box. So the real question is, what would you carry around in that?”
Setting her boots aside, Eleanor lay down on the bed. “The obvious answer would be something magical that you wish to keep suppressed.” “Some kind of weapon? A poison? You think he wants to kill the Khivan king?” A trickle of laughter escaped him.
“Poison of the mundane kind kills just as effectively. There is no point taking the risk of smuggling a magical variant into Khiva.”
“I’ve started to regret this,” Martel considered. “That shifty bastard is up to something.”
“I am far ahead of you, both in terms of regret and suspicions.”
“Well, if the cow goes through the ice, nothing ties us here. We’re not far from Aster – we could practically leg it.”
She laughed hearing his expression. “You can remove the boy from Nordmark, but you cannot remove Nordmark from his speech.”
Martel shrugged. “I am who I am. Well, since going around the city is obviously a bad idea, I guess we’ll have to entertain ourselves for the next days until this king deigns to show himself.”
“You know the big advantage of being sequestered in this house rather than on a ship? Solitude.” She smiled at him, and he took the hint.
They stayed within the confines of their residence over the next days as voluntary prisoners. Eleanor made polite conversation with the other Asterians, all of them patricians and their families known to her; none of them approached Martel, probably intimidated by his reputation, which suited him fine. He spent his hours on the balcony, looking south to catch glimpses of ships sailing toward the harbour, or north in hopes of spotting a procession; the Khivan king would arrive over land.
The lieutenant, who had greeted them on their arrival, came by every day. As the only person, he engaged Martel in conversation, perhaps considering it his duty as a liaison to entertain the foreign guests. Martel did not mind as such; he had nothing against Khivans as long as they did not try to kill him.
On the fourth day, however, he noticed the lieutenant approach him with an apprehensive expression. “Padmani, what troubles you?”
“Forgive me, Sir Martel. Have you or your companion left the house at any point?”
“We haven’t. Why does that matter?”
“Ah, well, there’s people gathering outside the walls. I thought nothing of it at first, but more and more come, and they grow increasingly agitated. I could barely get through them,” the lieutenant admitted. “Truth be told, I’m not sure what’ll happen when we open the gate.”
“Strange. I’ve not noticed anything. Come with me.” Martel turned and went up the stairs to reach his chamber, the lieutenant in tow. Stepping onto the balcony, Martel saw it. The walls hid the surrounding alley, but the crowd gathering outside had reached such a size, he could see them filling up the main street that led to their house.
It appeared they also noticed him; a cry went up from the mob, and they began shouting in unison. Despite not speaking Khivan, Martel could guess their desires. He took a step inside, removing himself from view. “Looks like you’re right.”
“There’s rain coming tonight,” Padmani said, glancing out the open door at the sky where dark clouds formed in the distance. “Hopefully that’ll make them disperse. I’ll stay at the house until things have calmed down – not that we can risk opening the gate anyway.”
“Sure. Do as you wish.”
“I appreciate your calm manners in the situation, Sir Martel.”
Martel shrugged. “I’m not the one in danger.”
The displeasure of the locals toward Martel proved stronger than any discomfort caused by a downpour. As night fell, so did the rain, but the Khivans remained outside; if anything, their numbers grew. Martel had pulled a chair to sit just beyond the balcony, keeping himself out of sight. As it became dark, he used his sense of magic to sweep over the place. He saw them as a mass of light, a writhing snake that encircled their house to strangle it.
His musings were interrupted by the sight of heat dragging itself over the wall. Someone was scaling it to get inside, presumably to open the gate. Standing up, Martel released a targeted gust of wind to push the would-be assailant back over the wall again.
“What is happening?” Eleanor asked sharply; she walked over to his side, wielding her hairbrush like a weapon.
“They’re trying to climb the wall. Can you fetch the lieutenant?”
She hastened away, leaving Martel to release another blast of air, pushing down the next man trying his luck.
“Sir Martel, what is going on?” Padmani asked, alarmed as soon as he entered the chamber.
“They’re trying to get over the wall.” Martel let his sense of magic sweep over the area again, keeping vigilant.
“You are certain? I don’t see anything.” The lieutenant peered into the dark.
“I am. But I can let one of them get over the wall if you want proof.”
“No, no need,” he quickly said. “I’m not sure how to proceed. I had thought the city guard would intervene at this point…”
“I saw a few in uniform earlier today among the crowd,” Eleanor interjected. “We should not expect them to be on our side.”
“If I can get out, I can fetch my own soldiers,” Padmani mumbled. “They’ll obey.”
“I’m tired of this game,” Martel declared, releasing his magic to push down yet another Khivan. He almost admired their stubbornness. “We’ll solve this my way. Eleanor, we should wear our mail and helmet.”
Entering the yard, the lieutenant looked increasingly anxious. “Sir Martel, please, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Martel told him. “We open the gate. I conjure a wall of flames to keep them back, and I’ll step through to talk. You’ll come with me to translate. Don’t worry, you won’t get hurt.”
“I am going as well,” Eleanor proclaimed, wearing armour.
“Never occurred to me otherwise,” Martel assented, preparing a shield spell to protect himself. “Soldier, open the gate!”
The legionary on guard duty saluted and removed the crossbeam while the lieutenant gave a panicked sound. As the gate opened, the crowd outside roared, perhaps assuming their vanguard had been successful.
A wall of flames rising up to fill the opening quickly disabused them of that notion. Through the fire, they witnessed a man appear; he had no armour or weapons, just simple clothes. Behind him came a mageknight and a Khivan officer.
Rain pouring down, Martel looked at the crowd. The flames were cold, offering no hurt, which was the very first kind of magic he had ever learned to do, but they looked impressive all the same; still, he knew the mood of these people could turn any moment. Already, they began to reassert themselves, considering the situation and their options.
“People of this city, listen to me!” Martel shouted and elbowed Padmani, who began translating. “Yes, I’m a mage. I’ve killed soldiers in war. Your fathers, brothers, sons. Just as they killed ours. But the war is over. Don’t become its final casualties. I promise you, if any is to die tonight, it won’t be me.” He held out his hands, and lightning jumped from his right fingertips to his left, causing a start to go through the mob.
It took a moment before the first people, those in the back, slinked away. Faced with a mage wielding lightning in his hands, the rest followed suit, and the mob dispersed. Satisfied, Martel stepped back inside his fiery wall, followed by the others.
“I half expected someone to pull out a weapon,” Eleanor admitted. “I was just waiting for someone to charge you.”
“Well, you would have stopped them, if the lightning didn’t get them first.”
Padmani stared at him. “The power you wield, in your very hands. The fury of nature like a toy between your fingers.”
“It gives a good impression, doesn’t it.” Martel smiled before he yawned. He looked at Eleanor. “Let’s go to sleep. Enjoy your night, lieutenant.”