Firebrand

They found passage on a merchant vessel going to Sindhu, specifically Pataliputra, the great city-state that lay on the northern coast of the southern continent, closest to Aster. It was the former home of Rana, whose letter of introduction Martel carried that would open the doors to at least one of the Five Towers, the secretive societies of alchemy that dominated all magic across Sindhu.

Martel kept an eye on Eleanor, given how Morcaster had treated her, especially on the heels of their trip to Khiva, which she had also been uncomfortable with. Once they had nothing but open water surrounding them, she seemed her old self, able to jest and tease as usual, which was a relief. Knowing she was hurting left him ill at ease, unable to think of a solution. She was always at his side, supporting him through everything, and he wanted to reciprocate, but he did not know how. Dangers he could defeat, but magic proved no help for an aching soul. Hopefully new lands and experiences could provide the remedy. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ n0velfire.net

Without a seamage, the ship moved markedly slower. Thankfully, the Emerald Sea between the continents was narrow; with a good wind, it took only a fiveday for Pataliputra to come into sight, as did other vessels. Since the city had a size to rival Morcaster, its harbour was no less busy. In fact, Martel would judge it to see more traffic, given the number of ships that swarmed the opening. It required skilled manoeuvring by their pilot to avoid a crash, and their progress slowed, taking hours just to traverse the final mile.

Jumping ashore, Martel stared at the wide streets surrounding the docks. He had never seen so many people in one place. It felt like when he first arrived at Morcaster from Nordmark, and he once again felt like a peasant boy from the wilderness.

It quickly became apparent that trying to walk anywhere, especially with their luggage, was a fool’s errand. Hiring a cart took a little effort but was easier than Martel had expected; while the locals did not speak Asterian as such, so many ships from the northern continent made port in Pataliputra, a common trade language had arisen in the docks, and plenty of Asterian words could be understood. They even managed to explain their destination to the driver; a roadhouse with good rooms frequented by other northern travellers where they would be welcomed.

From the outside, the building looked like any other, built in white stone that reflected the sun’s harsh light and a flat roof for trapping rainwater. But the sign above the entrance showed a bear with all its thick fur that would cause such an animal to die from heatstroke if it lived in these southern lands; a decidedly northern creature, beckoning those of like origin to step inside.

Just as Martel was about to do so, he glanced down the street and grabbed Eleanor by the shoulder, almost making her drop their travel chest. “Look!” He stared at an animal big as a house, grey hide and white tusks, which he had only ever seen depicted in imagery or as a statue. “It’s an elephant!”

“Indeed it is, dear.” She patted him on the cheek and renewed her grip on their luggage before entering the roadhouse. “Are you coming as well?” What Martel assumed to be the common room looked quite different than an Asterian tavern. Rather than being stacked with furniture to allow as many customers as possible, it had a few low tables and soft couches surrounding them, which seated a few people engaged in conversation – Asterians as well, by the look of them. He saw no desk where a barkeep would serve drinks; looking through an open door, he noticed a kitchen adjacent. Moments later, a matronly woman of Asterian appearance came through. “Bless me, new guests!”

“You have rooms available? We are more than able to pay in advance, including for our meals,” Eleanor declared.

“Of course! I’m Mother Lucrecia, come with me! We’ll get you settled first, and I’ll get you food. Supper has been served, but I got plenty in the kitchen left over. You must be hungry from your journey? Did you arrive from Aster?”

Martel fell back a pace, letting Eleanor follow straight behind the woman and answer the flood of questions. “We did, yes.”

“Ah, so you’ve had nothing but ship fare for ages, I bet! You must be longing for proper food, aren’t you?” Their hostess led them upstairs to reach an empty room; small, but clean, with just enough space for them and their belongings. “Here we are, won’t this fit you nicely? Oh, pardon me.” Lucrecia awkwardly manoeuvred herself out of the room to allow Eleanor inside. “I must say, you’re a strong woman hauling that chest around! Usually it’s the husband who does the carrying, though I rarely get couples staying. Mostly traders and travellers of that sort. Judging by your looks, you’re not with any merchant house?”

Martel placed his black staff against the wall; while not in armour, Eleanor had her sword by her waist as always. “We are not,” she confirmed. “Do you have a bath?”

“Of course, good mistress, down the hallway. There should be water in the barrels to fill the tub, though it’s not particularly warm.”

“That’s fine,” Martel replied curtly. While he appreciated an attentive host, he most of all wanted to let hot water wash over him and melt away the weariness of travelling. Although he rarely had trouble being surrounded by crowds anymore, Pataliputra was putting his mental endurance to the test.

Their hostess looked from one guest to the other. “Well, alright, I’ll let you settle in. Come downstairs to the kitchen when you’re hungry.”

Eleanor pushed their chest into the far corner, barely enough room between the wall and the bed. “Could I prevail on the good firemage to provide some heat for the bathwater?”

Martel pushed his own bags into another corner. “It’ll be my pleasure.”