Firebrand

Chapter 69: New Times

New Times

For two fivedays, Martel's life was peaceful. His skills with air progressed to Master Alastair's satisfaction, paving the way to continue with more advanced studies. Even better, he had his last class in empowerment magic. Reynard allowed the occasion to pass without ceremony, and Martel was only happy to avoid any attention from his ill-spirited teacher.

His enthusiasm waned a little, as he learned he would instead have a class on healing to fill the slot on Maldays. Not that he thought the subject lacking in interest or importance; rather, the thought of spending two hours surrounded by sick people did not sit well with him. Even though by now, he had walked many times through the infirmary to reach the apothecary, he still felt uneasy at the sight, sound, and above all smell of disease. It immediately evoked the image of his father dying in his sickbed. At least he only had the one lesson a day instead of two, leaving his afternoons on Maldays open.

Regardless, his misgivings were of no consequence; all students at the Lyceum had to pass this course. Thus, when the second bell had rung, Martel and two other novices reported in the infirmary. He did not know them, as they had not attended the same classes as him; coincidence had made their progress align with his. But they were clearly several years younger than him and seemed even more uncertain of themselves in these surroundings.

A nurse appeared, dressed in their red-robed uniform. She crossed her arms, glancing at each of them. "You must be our fresh hands. I don't know what they teach you in those other classes, but here, expect purely practical. You will change sheets and chamber pots, clean and bandage wounds, help to feed the patients, and maybe learn a little about tending to the sick and injured."

Martel cautiously raised a hand.

"This ain't a classroom. Just spit it out," the nurse told him.

"What about magical healing?"

She laughed. "Full of high thoughts, aren't we? That is for Master Kelsos to determine. But not until you been here a month. Now look lively and help me with this." The nurse directed the students to grab water, small basins, and washcloth. They spent an hour cleaning those patients too sick to do so themselves before undertaking other chores, all under the watchful gaze of the nurses. As for Master Kelsos, Martel did not see even a hint of him.

~

All in all, while the work was mundane and did not teach Martel anything about magic, it was also simple and easy. The nurses did not drive the students particularly hard, as they talked and jested among themselves merrily, leaving plenty of opportunities to catch one's breath when needed. And once the bell rang, it was a short trip for Martel from the infirmary to his next duty in the apothecary.

Here, his work was of a similar practical nature, but this did not bother Martel. As he worked to turn herbs and stranger items like animal claws or other parts into ingredients for elixirs, Mistress Rana or her apprentice explained their properties and what use would come of Martel's efforts. Even if so far Martel had only learned to make skin salve and blood salve, his knowledge of alchemical reagents grew day by day.

~

Once finished in the apothecary, Martel relaxed in his room after four hours of work. When he felt ready for lunch, he made his way towards the dining hall; before he made it that far, a surprising sight met him in the entrance hall. A group of people stood in a circle to watch the assembly of a large, wooden cabinet filled with all manner of mechanical objects. Martel spotted Master Jerome engaged in discussion with a middle-aged Khivan man. Even if he only saw the latter from behind, Martel recognised him as Master Farhad.

"There you are!" The voice was followed by a slap on his shoulder, making Martel turn in the direction of both.

"Shadi!" He looked from the girl towards the cabinet and back. "Your father's watch! It's done!"

"It is!" She laughed. "Finally. I think this is the biggest clock my father has ever made."

Martel observed the ongoing construction once more. From the looks of it, it would be twice the height of a man, with a large clockface visible from anywhere in the hall. Rather than showing a number of bells, it displayed time divided into twenty-four hours according to Khivan custom. More than that, he noticed various astronomical symbols, displaying such information like sunrise and sunset. It was a marvel to imagine.

"Now you got a reminder of me in your big, fancy school," Shadi remarked with a wry smile. "In case you need one." She bumped her shoulder against his.

Martel did not, but nearly a month had passed since he last saw her. It seemed every Solday, either he or she had been unable to meet. "Never hurts. School keeps me busy. You've not had much time to spare either, I take it."

"I haven't, but with this work complete, my dad won't need me around the workshop as much. For a while, at least. Hopefully, he will be busy again soon." A flash of concern passed over her face before it disappeared again. "What about you? Got time to meet on Solday?"

Martel felt he had been a good student for a long while now, doing well in his classes, whether elemental magic, or magical theory, or extra work like the apothecary. He deserved an afternoon with his friend, relaxing, laughing, and talking. "I do." He smiled. "Usual place?"

"You got yourself a deal."

"Now tell me about this clock your father's made." Martel looked towards the craftsmen carefully joining one piece after another under anxious supervision by Masters Jerome and Farhad. Built by careful machinery, it appeared to have every conceivable feature to not only count hours and minutes, but also many details about the sun, moon, stars, and more; and all of this clever ingenuity was surrounded by a wooden shell enchanted by Asterian magic.

"You magic lot like the moon, right?" Shadi began to explain. "Well, that hand right there, once it's attached, will tell you when it rises and sets, including its current phase…"

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM