Book 8: Chapter 65: Magic and mail
Every ship from Morcaster was highly anticipated, bringing all sorts of goods and luxuries otherwise not available to the people of Archen. Yet excitement rose to even greater heights hearing the last merchantman of the year had made dock by the small harbour where Archen’s tributary river met the Savena. Besides carrying the usual, the ship brought traders and their wares for the announced harvest festival, taking place next fiveday. Barrels of wine and ingredients such as honey along with sugar and cinnamon from Sindhu and more, allowing for sweet and spiced cakes to be made.
The ship was long awaited for another reason, as it carried enough letters to rival the Imperial courier service. Everyone had left relatives or friends behind in Morcaster, many of them worried about the settlers braving the frontier, and so every vessel carried hundreds if not thousands of letters.
More than a few were addressed to Martel, who had correspondence with his former teachers. As soon as one of the city’s small runners came by to let Martel know the ship had docked, he abandoned his workshop to make his way south.
It took the better part of an hour to walk to the new harbour, which so far consisted simply of a pier and a simple warehouse, as that sufficed to cover the needs. Martel was not alone in making the journey; many others, likewise too impatient to wait for their deliveries and mail to be transported to the city, joined him. Whenever they became aware of his presence, they bowed their heads and greeted him respectfully, but beyond that, they kept their distance, and none engaged him in conversation.
Martel did not notice, his mind already elsewhere as he tried to imagine the replies awaiting him. Only the sight of the ship’s masts brought him back to his surroundings, and he increased his pace.
As could be expected, the small docks were a hive of activity. Absent a formal harbourmaster and dockworkers, the city drafted a handful of people for this work each time a ship arrived, rotating the responsibility. Valerius usually helped, putting his supernatural strength to good use. All along the route from the pier to the warehouse next to it, the townspeople clamoured in anticipation, though they quickly parted when seeing the master of the city arrive.
Valerius likewise noticed him, letting a heavy crate fall from his back. “I figured you would be here soon,” he called out. He pulled out a stack of parchment from his tunic. “I saw fit to grab your letters.”
“A true friend,” Martel replied, grabbing the correspondence. “You should come by tonight, join us for our meal. It’s been a few days.”
“It would be my pleasure. Until then, this cargo will not haul itself.” The mageknight grabbed the crate once more with ease, practically slinging it onto his back. Martel nodded in farewell and turned back towards Archen.
Too eager to wait, Martel opened the first letter still on the road. Grabbing one at random, he began to read, recognising Fenrick’s script. Martel,
Stars confound me, but I have no clue how you can ignore the effect of gold. All my attempts to replicate your ability have failed. I understand your hesitation in sharing the method by which you discovered this – not all knowledge is harmless – but I do fear I might not be able to advance further on my own.
I did consider what you admitted, that it was meditations upon the sun that unlocked this for you, which certainly makes sense; gold is caused by the light of the sun striking the earth, so naturally the two are connected. And if your belief is correct that the sun possesses its own kind of magic, the question is how it can be harnessed. As said, my attempts have gone nowhere.
However, you may succeed where I failed, given your intuitive understanding of this topic. Enclosed, I have written a list of exercises you should try, to see whether you can draw upon the sun itself as a source of magic. Alas that the time of the year is wrong; I imagine you will not have much luck, the closer we draw to winter solstice. But in any case, write back your results.
Fenrick
Martel ran his eyes over the other piece of parchment containing the list, enclosed as promised, before packing the letter away and opening the next from the Master of Fire.
My dear boy,
Always a pleasure to hear from you. Most intriguing, how your settlement fares, and do give my regards to Eleanor. But important matters first. Your idea is not unprecedented. Most lighthouses carry stones of such enchanted light that you propose. If the enchantment is done right, the absence of heat prevents any danger of causing a fire. There are limits, however.
Perhaps most importantly, this light is only clearly visible at night. I’m not sure it’s possible to enchant with such strength that the light can cross long distances during the day and be relayed onwards. This is obviously a big limitation. The whole point of your system is to transport urgent messages across long distances in a matter of moments. That becomes far less viable if only possible during the night. But it might still be better than no system at all.
Regardless, I told my students of your idea, and they are excited to attempt enchanting lightstones for such a purpose, which will be a good exercise for them. If any of their work is worthwhile, I will send it to you, that you might experiment with them. I also made my own attempt at creating the strongest enchantment I could. I have added it to your ship’s cargo…
The letter continued with news of Morcaster and personal titbits, which Martel saved for later, packing the letter away to instead unfold the third one.
Master Martel,
My thanks for the shipment of herbs. As you surmised and intimated in your last letter, they have strange properties and react unpredictably compared to their normal variety. Your theory that exposure to the after-effects of uncontrolled magic lingering for centuries is the cause for this alteration seems sound, lacking any other obvious explanation. Still, I should ask you to forage for herbs further and further away from your city, and clearly mark the distance on each sample that you send to me.
As for those you dispatched with your last correspondence, I made a few familiar concoctions, whose effects I know intimately well, and fed them to different animals. The mouse died, which was unexpected. The horse lived, but as it lacks the capacity to speak, I could not interrogate it as to its wellbeing. I will keep it under observation and let you know of any change in its demeanour or constitution.
I have sent the supplies you requested, as much as I could spare. Since some of them are sparse, I would ask you to be strict with them. I cannot guarantee replacements, should you require more in large quantities. I have also added a fortifying elixir for your personal use.
Mistress Rana,
Mistress of Elixirs at the Lyceum, Imperial school of Morcaster
Martel smiled and packed the letter away with the others. His mind immediately ran through a myriad of thoughts, jumping from one topic to another. Exercises, enchantment, alchemy, and more. Around him, on his approach to Archen, he passed by the workers preparing for the harvest festival.