Firebrand

Finishing his breakfast, Martel glanced over at the neighbouring table where Eleanor held court, signing people up and answering questions about the expedition, even in the morning. Currently, she spoke to a fellow, who by the look of him had come from the copper lanes.

“So I’ll own the land I work on? House too? And no lord who owns my harvest, or that I got to work some days for.”

“There is no corvee,” Eleanor promised. “And you own the land and your home. You will only be asked to pay part of your harvest in tax to the city.”

“See, that’s still rent, just by another name!”

“The tax will be far lower than what you would pay to buy the land and fields granted to you,” she argued. “And it will be to your benefit. The city will protect you, and in times of poor harvest, its treasury will be spent to buy food for all, including your family. It will also entitle you and yours to treatment and elixirs from the infirmary that we intend to set up.”

His meal done, Martel caught Eleanor’s eyes as he got up, exchanging a quick look in farewell. He had an errand to run, which he could do on his own. Since he had already angered the Nine Lords, Martel figured he might as well make the most of it.

A shape moved along the shadows of the alley, watching a warehouse. Workers and day-labourers went in and out, carrying goods to be placed in carts, on animal back, or just hauled by human hands.

“Sparrow.”

The shape flinched and turned around. “Who’s that?” she hissed.

Martel approached her, coming from the other end of the alley. “Just me.” “How did you find me?”

“Plenty of people willing to speak if you pay them a bit of silver. And I’m good at finding people hiding, thanks to my sense of heat.”

“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been distracted, I’d have sensed your footsteps. You have the tread of an ox,” she retorted. “And I’m working. Get going.”

“I have something to show you. If you let me, I’ll leave you in peace.”

“How about you do the second thing now?”

“Last time I’ll ever bother you,” Martel promised. “It’s not far. In the market district.”

She looked back at the warehouse across the street. “You won’t bother me again after this?”

“It’s a promise.”

Outside the workshop, Sparrow stopped to look at the sign with suspicion. “What does it say?”

“If you’d like to read, that’s exactly the kind of learning you’ll get at a school. Come along.” Martel stepped through the courtyard door, followed by the girl.

“Is this some kind of stone trader?” she asked, looking around at the slabs. “Pretty sure they don’t like someone like me visiting.”

“You’re with me.” Martel stepped inside the building with Sparrow reluctantly behind him.

Hearing him, the clerk behind the desk looked up. “Oh, Master Martel! Master Henry went out to eat, but he should return soon.” She glanced at Sparrow, but said nothing.

“Not an issue. We’ll wait.” Martel turned to the nearest statue. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s pretty good,” the girl admitted. “Looks like a real person.”

“What about this one?” Martel led her to a bust of a woman where the marble had been shaped to look like a thin veil covering her face.

“Alright, that’s impressive. So, this Henry fellow, he’s a sculptor?”

“He is, though not with hammer or chisel. He’s a stonemage. And my friend.”

“Indeed I am!” Henry laughed, entering. “Martel, rare to see you visit again so soon!”

“I know, you’ll be sick of me soon enough,” the battlemage jested. “But I wanted to show your work to my young friend there.”

“More like acquaintance,” Sparrow corrected him.

A smile tugged on Henry’s face. “Interested in sculptures and stonework, are we?”

She shrugged. “A little. Must have taken you years to get this good.”

“Well, I appreciate the compliment. I’ve only been doing it for a handful of years. I’ve spent most of my career building walls, if you can believe it, probably longer than you’ve been alive!”

Sparrow turned her attention back on the bust. “How do you do it, though? How can you get the stone to take the shape you want?”

“It takes a long time,” Henry admitted. “It’s similar to enchantment. I spend hours with my hands on the rough stone, sinking my magic into it. But not to bind it there, but rather, to gain a full understanding of the material. And then I carve into it, using only magic.”

“What, like it’s a chisel?” Sparrow asked, frowning.

“Metaphorically speaking, but in practical terms, it’s more like I create a tiny earthquake. I tear the stone apart exactly where I want it gone. Often just a nail’s width at a time, so I can make changes before it’s too late.”

“I see.” Sparrow, her brow still furrowed in thought, leaned to examine the bust again. “But how do you…”

Martel smiled and took a step back, letting them converse freely.

An hour later, the visitors left the workshop. Back on the street, Sparrow turned to Martel. “How do you know him? He’s so old.”

Martel laughed; Henry was in his forties. “We served in the same legion. He’s been my friends for a number of years. And, I think, a good example of what a stonemage can do. He’s raised walls, built houses, and now sculptures.”

“Sure. That’s easy for him. He’s got people coming to his workshop, asking for him to create these things. And before that, the legion paid him, right?” Sparrow crossed her arms. “I know what you’re trying to do, but that won’t work for me.”

“Why not? You can learn to do everything that Henry can do.”

“Let me guess. At your school.”

Martel nodded. “Henry is coming with us.”

For once, he seemed to have stumped her. “He is? But he’s got that workshop! He must be raking in gold making those beautiful statues.”

“He is. He’ll be instrumental in building our city. And he could easily have an apprentice.”

“And what, I’ll be put to work building your city, or you’ll throw me out?”

“I left you once, Sparrow, after I assumed responsibility for you. I won’t do that again,” Martel promised. “You’ll always have a place with me, no matter what you choose to do.”

She looked away, wiping her nose on a dirty sleeve. “What about the others? I can’t leave them behind.”

“I told you. Bring any who wants to come.”

“What’ll they do? You intend to hire pickpockets for your new city?”

Martel laughed. “I’m sure we’ll find something they can do.” His demeanour grew earnest again, and he waited until she turned to look at him again. “You’ll all have a home, where you never have to choose between stealing or starvation, or get beaten because you didn’t steal enough.”

She swallowed. “What about the other townspeople… they’ll know we’re street rats. They’ll yell at us, or throw things at us. Curse at us when they see us. Everyone does.” Orıginal content can be found at novel✦fire.net

Martel smiled again. “You all come at my personal invitation. You think anyone would dare look down on you? Especially not the stonemage who helped build their homes.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sparrow sniffed before she bounded down the street, disappearing into the crowd.

Martel watched her briefly and turned away, following his own path home. Back at The Firebrand, a message awaited from the Friar. The meeting had been arranged.