Chapter 11: Circling Stars
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Chapter 11: Circling Stars
Circling Stars
If Malday was Martel’s least favourite, Solday might be his preferred. No classes with condescending students or a sneering teacher. Only some tasks in the workshop with the artificer, who might even teach him a new skill or two. After eating a hefty breakfast, like he did every morning, Martel made his way to the workshop even before the bell rang.
"Good morning, Master Jerome!"
"I see my little – or should I say tall – hammer is ready for work," the artificer laughed.
"Yes, master."
"Well, we are still short in the washery, so I can use you there. I know it’s not interesting work, but we have plenty of Soldays ahead for that."
"Whatever you need, master."
~
Two hours of washing and wringing passed by with ease. Even before the bell had rung, Master Jerome sought out Martel while waving a letter about in his hand. "Martel," he called out, gaining the boy’s attention. "I need a courier again today if – what is that?"
Martel followed the artificer’s gaze, landing on the bruises on his arms. He dropped the clothes in his hands and pulled his sleeves down. "I have combat lessons on Maldays."
Master Jerome's eyes darkened. "You’re a novice. You shouldn’t be learning combat."
"I have advanced classes, to help me finish school faster."
The artificer crossed his arms. "None mentioned to me that you’d be requiring armour for your lessons."
"Armour?"
"Of course! Some hardened leather will take the brunt of those beatings." Master Jerome’s face darkened. "I will have words with that teacher of yours who let this happen."
Martel’s instinct was to dissuade Master Jerome, avoiding conflict, but he stopped himself; he saw no reason to say anything in aid of Master Reynard.
"You needed a courier?"
"First things first," the artificer said. "Follow me."
They left the washery, returning to the central room of the workshop full of tools and equipment. The artificer dug through a box until he pulled out a ribbon, filled with numbers.
"Stand here. Stretch out your arms."
Confused but compliant, Martel obeyed. Quickly, Master Jerome measured the length of his limbs and most of his body. With a knife, he scratched down a few numbers down on a piece of bark.
"You have combat lessons on Maldays, you said?"
"Aye, master."
"That should be time enough. Alright, on to my original business."
"What is it, master?"
The artificer grabbed the letter from before. "As you must have guessed, I’ve commissioned Master Farhad to make one of his Khivan time pieces for us."
Finally, Martel understood. A watch was a timekeeper, apparently some special kind from Khiva. That explained the sundial over his workshop. The word still made no sense, except maybe if someone obsessively watched the time, but at least he knew now. "Oh yes, I figured."
"I’ve been arranging things with him through letter. His daughter, pretty little thing, brought me one the other day."
Martel remembered when Shadi had come to visit. That had been his favourite day so far at the Lyceum.
"She asked that my most handsome student deliver the next one. But since you already know where Master Farhad lives, I figured it was simpler to ask you again." Master Jerome’s eye twinkled until Martel understood it was a jest. "You’ll be paid for your troubles, of course."
"I’ll bear the burden," the novice accepted with a wry smile of his own. In fact, he would have offered to do it without payment until he remembered that last time, Shadi bought him food. It was only right he returned the favour, yet he spent nearly all his few coins sending a letter to his mother. "Master Jerome, could I be paid in advance?"
The artificer frowned. "Have you an urgent need for coin?"
"Well, last time, Shadi – that's Master Farhad's daughter – paid for my lunch. I would like to return the favour."
"He always gets so absorbed, he wouldn't notice if the house fell down around him." Shadi laughed.
"Is it just you and him?"
"Yeah. My parents came here from Khiva shortly before I was born. They didn't have kids before me, and my mum died giving birth to me."
"Stars, I'm sorry!"
She shrugged. "I never knew her. Sometimes I might feel sad, thinking about it, but when it's all you've known, you're used to it."
"What made your parents come to Morcaster?"
"Well, the way my dad tells it, Khiva has lots of good watchmakers, Aster had none." She shrugged again. "Mechanical clocks, that is. He just went where he figured people would buy his work."
"Well, since the Lyceum is buying from him, he must have been right."
"We do alright. Got enough money for food, clothes, and rent. That's all you can ask for, sometimes."
"You rent?"
"Yeah, of course. We can't own land."
Martel halted in his tracks, sending her a disturbed look. "Why not?"
She gave a little frown in return. "We're not citizens, Martel. Nobody in the enclave is. We all have to rent our homes."
"I had no idea. Though I guess lots of tenants living on the noble estates don't own their homes either, but that's because they're too poor."
"What about your family?"
"My dad was a smith. My brother has his forge now. I got plenty of siblings though, both older and younger."
"Your mum?"
"She's also back home. I'll be going back when I'm done," Martel explained. "Be a weathermage for Nordmark. Some of it, anyway. It's too big for one mage to handle all of it."
"Hey, show me some magic!"
"Uh, sure." Martel's bag of tricks remained pitiful, but he did have something new to show. He stopped in front of a house with vines growing up the wall. The small leaves had inklings of frost remaining. "Stretch out your palm."
With an expectant smile, Shadi extended her open hand.
Reaching out, Martel pulled at all the little droplets on the vine. Not all heeded his call, and he felt almost out of breath, but his focus did not break. Across the air they travelled, joining together to form a drop the size of a thumb nail. It floated over to land on Shadi's palm. She looked from the water to Martel, her eyes as glowing as her smile.
~
Martel made sure to return in time for supper at the Lyceum; he had tried going to bed hungry more than once and did not care to repeat the experience. Afterwards, he knew he had to put some work into his studies; he had spent the entire day so far without doing anything related to magic. The thought of creating the star chart for astronomy class hung around his neck like a millstone, which was all the more reason to work on it rather than delay.
Moving up the tower, he found it like yesterday, already occupied by Eleanor. He had not seen her since their argument yesterday, the thought of which now embarrassed him. He already knew the noblebloods looked down on him for his ancestry and ambition, both fitting that of a peasant; he had only given her more stones to throw by revealing the state of his family and his private grief.
Their eyes briefly met as she raised her gaze to see who entered. Both turned theirs aside and pointedly avoided words or further looks. Martel collected his items and chose the writing desk furthest from hers. He unfurled his star chart, which at present only deserved that title as intention; it barely held any of the celestial objects and circles that it should.
With a little sigh, Martel trotted over to collect the great tome containing the arithmetic. His mind absent, distracted by the thought of impending equations, he forgot the battered state of his arms. Pulling down the book from the shelf, he underestimated its weight and dropped it with a loud slam to the ground.
"Clumsy fool!" Eleanor exclaimed, hurrying over.
With his ears burning with embarrassment, not to mention the fear that he had damaged an item worth more than a lifetime of menial labour, Martel did not need her reproach. "It's fine," he declared, hoping it to be true. "It landed on the side. It didn't tear or anything." He bent down to quickly pick it up, his arms protesting at the demand made upon them.
"Let me handle it," Eleanor said sharply. As she grabbed the book from his hands, her movements suddenly became arrested. His sleeves had fallen up, and she stared at the heavy bruising along his arms, painting all of his skin either black, blue, purple, or yellow, according to age.
If his ears had been red before, his whole face now felt like an open flame. Even worse to see Eleanor handle the great tome with ease; he realised she was using her magic to help her lift the burden. A magical skill he had yet to learn.
She did not speak, and he did not look to see her expression. "I'll come back later," he mumbled.
"No, it is fine. Resume your work. I have made good progress already." She placed the book on his desk and cleared her own without further words before leaving him alone.
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Chapter 11: Circling Stars
Circling Stars
If Malday was Martel’s least favourite, Solday might be his preferred. No classes with condescending students or a sneering teacher. Only some tasks in the workshop with the artificer, who might even teach him a new skill or two. After eating a hefty breakfast, like he did every morning, Martel made his way to the workshop even before the bell rang.
"Good morning, Master Jerome!"
"I see my little – or should I say tall – hammer is ready for work," the artificer laughed.
"Yes, master."
"Well, we are still short in the washery, so I can use you there. I know it’s not interesting work, but we have plenty of Soldays ahead for that."
"Whatever you need, master."
~
Two hours of washing and wringing passed by with ease. Even before the bell had rung, Master Jerome sought out Martel while waving a letter about in his hand. "Martel," he called out, gaining the boy’s attention. "I need a courier again today if – what is that?"
Martel followed the artificer’s gaze, landing on the bruises on his arms. He dropped the clothes in his hands and pulled his sleeves down. "I have combat lessons on Maldays."
Master Jerome's eyes darkened. "You’re a novice. You shouldn’t be learning combat."
"I have advanced classes, to help me finish school faster."
The artificer crossed his arms. "None mentioned to me that you’d be requiring armour for your lessons."
"Armour?"
"Of course! Some hardened leather will take the brunt of those beatings." Master Jerome’s face darkened. "I will have words with that teacher of yours who let this happen."
Martel’s instinct was to dissuade Master Jerome, avoiding conflict, but he stopped himself; he saw no reason to say anything in aid of Master Reynard.
"You needed a courier?"
"First things first," the artificer said. "Follow me."
They left the washery, returning to the central room of the workshop full of tools and equipment. The artificer dug through a box until he pulled out a ribbon, filled with numbers.
"Stand here. Stretch out your arms."
Confused but compliant, Martel obeyed. Quickly, Master Jerome measured the length of his limbs and most of his body. With a knife, he scratched down a few numbers down on a piece of bark.
"You have combat lessons on Maldays, you said?"
"Aye, master."
"That should be time enough. Alright, on to my original business."
"What is it, master?"
The artificer grabbed the letter from before. "As you must have guessed, I’ve commissioned Master Farhad to make one of his Khivan time pieces for us."
Finally, Martel understood. A watch was a timekeeper, apparently some special kind from Khiva. That explained the sundial over his workshop. The word still made no sense, except maybe if someone obsessively watched the time, but at least he knew now. "Oh yes, I figured."
"I’ve been arranging things with him through letter. His daughter, pretty little thing, brought me one the other day."
Martel remembered when Shadi had come to visit. That had been his favourite day so far at the Lyceum.
"She asked that my most handsome student deliver the next one. But since you already know where Master Farhad lives, I figured it was simpler to ask you again." Master Jerome’s eye twinkled until Martel understood it was a jest. "You’ll be paid for your troubles, of course."
"I’ll bear the burden," the novice accepted with a wry smile of his own. In fact, he would have offered to do it without payment until he remembered that last time, Shadi bought him food. It was only right he returned the favour, yet he spent nearly all his few coins sending a letter to his mother. "Master Jerome, could I be paid in advance?"
The artificer frowned. "Have you an urgent need for coin?"
"Well, last time, Shadi – that's Master Farhad's daughter – paid for my lunch. I would like to return the favour."
"He always gets so absorbed, he wouldn't notice if the house fell down around him." Shadi laughed.
"Is it just you and him?"
"Yeah. My parents came here from Khiva shortly before I was born. They didn't have kids before me, and my mum died giving birth to me."
"Stars, I'm sorry!"
She shrugged. "I never knew her. Sometimes I might feel sad, thinking about it, but when it's all you've known, you're used to it."
"What made your parents come to Morcaster?"
"Well, the way my dad tells it, Khiva has lots of good watchmakers, Aster had none." She shrugged again. "Mechanical clocks, that is. He just went where he figured people would buy his work."
"Well, since the Lyceum is buying from him, he must have been right."
"We do alright. Got enough money for food, clothes, and rent. That's all you can ask for, sometimes."
"You rent?"
"Yeah, of course. We can't own land."
Martel halted in his tracks, sending her a disturbed look. "Why not?"
She gave a little frown in return. "We're not citizens, Martel. Nobody in the enclave is. We all have to rent our homes."
"I had no idea. Though I guess lots of tenants living on the noble estates don't own their homes either, but that's because they're too poor."
"What about your family?"
"My dad was a smith. My brother has his forge now. I got plenty of siblings though, both older and younger."
"Your mum?"
"She's also back home. I'll be going back when I'm done," Martel explained. "Be a weathermage for Nordmark. Some of it, anyway. It's too big for one mage to handle all of it."
"Hey, show me some magic!"
"Uh, sure." Martel's bag of tricks remained pitiful, but he did have something new to show. He stopped in front of a house with vines growing up the wall. The small leaves had inklings of frost remaining. "Stretch out your palm."
With an expectant smile, Shadi extended her open hand.
Reaching out, Martel pulled at all the little droplets on the vine. Not all heeded his call, and he felt almost out of breath, but his focus did not break. Across the air they travelled, joining together to form a drop the size of a thumb nail. It floated over to land on Shadi's palm. She looked from the water to Martel, her eyes as glowing as her smile.
~
Martel made sure to return in time for supper at the Lyceum; he had tried going to bed hungry more than once and did not care to repeat the experience. Afterwards, he knew he had to put some work into his studies; he had spent the entire day so far without doing anything related to magic. The thought of creating the star chart for astronomy class hung around his neck like a millstone, which was all the more reason to work on it rather than delay.
Moving up the tower, he found it like yesterday, already occupied by Eleanor. He had not seen her since their argument yesterday, the thought of which now embarrassed him. He already knew the noblebloods looked down on him for his ancestry and ambition, both fitting that of a peasant; he had only given her more stones to throw by revealing the state of his family and his private grief.
Their eyes briefly met as she raised her gaze to see who entered. Both turned theirs aside and pointedly avoided words or further looks. Martel collected his items and chose the writing desk furthest from hers. He unfurled his star chart, which at present only deserved that title as intention; it barely held any of the celestial objects and circles that it should.
With a little sigh, Martel trotted over to collect the great tome containing the arithmetic. His mind absent, distracted by the thought of impending equations, he forgot the battered state of his arms. Pulling down the book from the shelf, he underestimated its weight and dropped it with a loud slam to the ground.
"Clumsy fool!" Eleanor exclaimed, hurrying over.
With his ears burning with embarrassment, not to mention the fear that he had damaged an item worth more than a lifetime of menial labour, Martel did not need her reproach. "It's fine," he declared, hoping it to be true. "It landed on the side. It didn't tear or anything." He bent down to quickly pick it up, his arms protesting at the demand made upon them.
"Let me handle it," Eleanor said sharply. As she grabbed the book from his hands, her movements suddenly became arrested. His sleeves had fallen up, and she stared at the heavy bruising along his arms, painting all of his skin either black, blue, purple, or yellow, according to age.
If his ears had been red before, his whole face now felt like an open flame. Even worse to see Eleanor handle the great tome with ease; he realised she was using her magic to help her lift the burden. A magical skill he had yet to learn.
She did not speak, and he did not look to see her expression. "I'll come back later," he mumbled.
"No, it is fine. Resume your work. I have made good progress already." She placed the book on his desk and cleared her own without further words before leaving him alone.
Chapter 11: Circling StarsCircling StarsIf Malday was Martel's least favourite, Solday might be his preferred. No classes with condescending students or a sneering teacher. Only some tasks in the workshop with the artificer, who might even teach him a new skill or two. After eating a hefty breakfast, like he did every morning, Martel made his way to the workshop even before the bell rang."Good morning, Master Jerome!""I see my little or should I say tall hammer is ready for work," the artificer laughed."Yes, master.""Well, we are still short in the washery, so I can use you there. I know it's not interesting work, but we have plenty of Soldays ahead for that.""Whatever you need, master."~Two hours of washing and wringing passed by with ease. Even before the bell had rung, Master Jerome sought out Martel while waving a letter about in his hand. "Martel," he called out, gaining the boy's attention. "I need a courier again today if what is that?"Martel followed the artificer's gaze, landing on the bruises on his arms. He dropped the clothes in his hands and pulled his sleeves down. "I have combat lessons on Maldays."Master Jerome's eyes darkened. "You're a novice. You shouldn't be learning combat.""I have advanced classes, to help me finish school faster."The artificer crossed his arms. "None mentioned to me that you'd be requiring armour for your lessons.""Armour?""Of course! Some hardened leather will take the brunt of those beatings." Master Jerome's face darkened. "I will have words with that teacher of yours who let this happen."Martel's instinct was to dissuade Master Jerome, avoiding conflict, but he stopped himself; he saw no reason to say anything in aid of Master Reynard."You needed a courier?""First things first," the artificer said. "Follow me."They left the washery, returning to the central room of the workshop full of tools and equipment. The artificer dug through a box until he pulled out a ribbon, filled with numbers."Stand here. Stretch out your arms."Confused but compliant, Martel obeyed. Quickly, Master Jerome measured the length of his limbs and most of his body. With a knife, he scratched down a few numbers down on a piece of bark."You have combat lessons on Maldays, you said?""Aye, master.""That should be time enough. Alright, on to my original business.""What is it, master?"The artificer grabbed the letter from before. "As you must have guessed, I've commissioned Master Farhad to make one of his Khivan time pieces for us."Finally, Martel understood. A watch was a timekeeper, apparently some special kind from Khiva. That explained the sundial over his workshop. The word still made no sense, except maybe if someone obsessively watched the time, but at least he knew now. "Oh yes, I figured.""I've been arranging things with him through letter. His daughter, pretty little thing, brought me one the other day."Martel remembered when Shadi had come to visit. That had been his favourite day so far at the Lyceum."She asked that my most handsome student deliver the next one. But since you already know where Master Farhad lives, I figured it was simpler to ask you again." Master Jerome's eye twinkled until Martel understood it was a jest. "You'll be paid for your troubles, of course.""I'll bear the burden," the novice accepted with a wry smile of his own. In fact, he would have offered to do it without payment until he remembered that last time, Shadi bought him food. It was only right he returned the favour, yet he spent nearly all his few coins sending a letter to his mother. "Master Jerome, could I be paid in advance?"The artificer frowned. "Have you an urgent need for coin?""Well, last time, Shadi that's Master Farhad's daughter paid for my lunch. I would like to return the favour.""He always gets so absorbed, he wouldn't notice if the house fell down around him." Shadi laughed."Is it just you and him?""Yeah. My parents came here from Khiva shortly before I was born. They didn't have kids before me, and my mum died giving birth to me.""Stars, I'm sorry!"She shrugged. "I never knew her. Sometimes I might feel sad, thinking about it, but when it's all you've known, you're used to it.""What made your parents come to Morcaster?""Well, the way my dad tells it, Khiva has lots of good watchmakers, Aster had none." She shrugged again. "Mechanical clocks, that is. He just went where he figured people would buy his work.""Well, since the Lyceum is buying from him, he must have been right.""We do alright. Got enough money for food, clothes, and rent. That's all you can ask for, sometimes.""You rent?""Yeah, of course. We can't own land."Martel halted in his tracks, sending her a disturbed look. "Why not?"She gave a little frown in return. "We're not citizens, Martel. Nobody in the enclave is. We all have to rent our homes.""I had no idea. Though I guess lots of tenants living on the noble estates don't own their homes either, but that's because they're too poor.""What about your family?""My dad was a smith. My brother has his forge now. I got plenty of siblings though, both older and younger.""Your mum?""She's also back home. I'll be going back when I'm done," Martel explained. "Be a weathermage for Nordmark. Some of it, anyway. It's too big for one mage to handle all of it.""Hey, show me some magic!""Uh, sure." Martel's bag of tricks remained pitiful, but he did have something new to show. He stopped in front of a house with vines growing up the wall. The small leaves had inklings of frost remaining. "Stretch out your palm."With an expectant smile, Shadi extended her open hand.Reaching out, Martel pulled at all the little droplets on the vine. Not all heeded his call, and he felt almost out of breath, but his focus did not break. Across the air they travelled, joining together to form a drop the size of a thumb nail. It floated over to land on Shadi's palm. She looked from the water to Martel, her eyes as glowing as her smile.~Martel made sure to return in time for supper at the Lyceum; he had tried going to bed hungry more than once and did not care to repeat the experience. Afterwards, he knew he had to put some work into his studies; he had spent the entire day so far without doing anything related to magic. The thought of creating the star chart for astronomy class hung around his neck like a millstone, which was all the more reason to work on it rather than delay.Moving up the tower, he found it like yesterday, already occupied by Eleanor. He had not seen her since their argument yesterday, the thought of which now embarrassed him. He already knew the noblebloods looked down on him for his ancestry and ambition, both fitting that of a peasant; he had only given her more stones to throw by revealing the state of his family and his private grief.Their eyes briefly met as she raised her gaze to see who entered. Both turned theirs aside and pointedly avoided words or further looks. Martel collected his items and chose the writing desk furthest from hers. He unfurled his star chart, which at present only deserved that title as intention; it barely held any of the celestial objects and circles that it should.With a little sigh, Martel trotted over to collect the great tome containing the arithmetic. His mind absent, distracted by the thought of impending equations, he forgot the battered state of his arms. Pulling down the book from the shelf, he underestimated its weight and dropped it with a loud slam to the ground."Clumsy fool!" Eleanor exclaimed, hurrying over.With his ears burning with embarrassment, not to mention the fear that he had damaged an item worth more than a lifetime of menial labour, Martel did not need her reproach. "It's fine," he declared, hoping it to be true. "It landed on the side. It didn't tear or anything." He bent down to quickly pick it up, his arms protesting at the demand made upon them."Let me handle it," Eleanor said sharply. As she grabbed the book from his hands, her movements suddenly became arrested. His sleeves had fallen up, and she stared at the heavy bruising along his arms, painting all of his skin either black, blue, purple, or yellow, according to age.If his ears had been red before, his whole face now felt like an open flame. Even worse to see Eleanor handle the great tome with ease; he realised she was using her magic to help her lift the burden. A magical skill he had yet to learn.She did not speak, and he did not look to see her expression. "I'll come back later," he mumbled."No, it is fine. Resume your work. I have made good progress already." She placed the book on his desk and cleared her own without further words before leaving him alone.
