Firebrand

Feeling the Sting

Martel's last bell in the infirmary went by at a snail's pace. He helped take care of the patients, by now accustomed with the process of changing bandages and other such tasks, but he found it hard to concentrate. His mind kept turning towards the test that Master Kelsos would perform on him. He had no idea what it would be like or how it worked, only that it was the manner in which the Lyceum discovered potential healers. The other novices who had begun the course at the same time as Martel would also be tested, and when he asked one of the nurses, she explained it would be done so swiftly, they did not need to set time aside for it.

Finally, Master Kelsos appeared. "We'll start with the older one, I guess." He gestured for Martel to follow him to a corner of the infirmary, giving them a little seclusion from the rest. He sat down on a stool and motioned for Martel to take a seat on the empty bed next to it. "So, you've had a chance now to gain an understanding of the human body, and namely, how it heals. Let's see if you can do more than just understand. Hold out your hand."

Martel duly did so, wondering what came next.

"This won't hurt." Master Kelsos took the novice's hand with his own and held firm. With the other, he took the small knife in his belt and pricked Martel on the finger.

Martel ripped his hand away. "Ow! You said it wouldn't hurt."

"I lied. I hate when they fidget or try to avoid the knife." The healer handed over a small piece of clean cloth. "Put this against the rift."

Still pouting, Martel did so, feeling a small sting where the fabric met his broken skin.

"Think of your heart, pumping blood around your body. Moving through your arm until it reaches the wound. Imagine how the blood clots, the flesh assembles itself. And the skin knits together good as new."

Martel closed his eyes, letting his mind be guided by Master Kelsos' mesmerising voice. He envisioned every step as spoken, wondering if it worked.

"Let your magic flow freely. Like water in your veins, it reaches your injury and heals it completely."

Martel concentrated as best he could.

"Show me."

Opening his eyes, the novice saw Master Kelsos nod towards his hand. He carefully removed the fabric. After a moment, fresh drops of blood trickled out.

"Sadly, that is the end of your time in the infirmary."

Martel looked at the few beads of red betraying him. "Are you sure? There's hardly any blood."

"If you had the gift, you wouldn't even need my guidance. Your magic would simply heal. Like this." Master Kelsos touched Martel's fingertip with his own. Light glowed ever so briefly, and the small sting of discomfort disappeared. As Martel wiped the blood from his finger, he found no trace of the injury. "Fetch the next novice for me, would you."

~

Martel's dreams of becoming rich had once again proven short-lived. He knew of course that this would have been the likely outcome from the start. Being fire-touched already set him apart from most mages. It was absurd to think he would in addition possess the rarest of all gifts. Still, the day-dream had been beguiling. Especially now, trying to think of a way to earn fifty pieces of silver for Shadi and no idea as to how within the allotted time. Having a solution fall into his lap like becoming a healer would have been nice, but life never worked out that way.

His mood slightly suppressed, Martel continued going about his day. In the afternoon, as he was returning to his chamber – Master Alastair had unwittingly reminded him how he had neglected doing his exercises outside of class lately – he passed through the common room and found Maximilian engaged in a game of cards as usual. Mindful of what happened the last time, Martel kept his distance and did not make any comments as hands were played and coins subsequently changed ownership. The mageknight had bad luck and grumbled about his cards, reinforcing Martel's decision to stay silent.

He remembered how Maximilian had tried to play dice in The Golden Goose with his help and their subsequent failure, losing further coin. But only because Martel's involvement had solely been to prevent the other player from cheating, and they had still relied on luck to win, which failed them. Perhaps there was a way after all that Martel could earn a lot of coins swiftly using his magical skills.

~

Martel had to ask around a lot until he found someone who could lend him a pair of dice. Given the relative ease with which many of the students could manipulate the throw, dice games were not popular at the Lyceum. But persistence found him a pair of six-sided clay cubes with the typical symbols of a crown, jester's hat, and the four elements.

Inside his room, Martel began to practice. He rubbed the dice between his hands to transfer heat, making it easier for him to follow as they rolled across the table. He began by throwing both, but quickly found it confusing to track them with his magical senses. They were so small and so close to each other, it felt more like a single object. He certainly did not possess the fine control needed to manipulate their movements.

Instead, he practised with one. He let it roll across his desk, as slowly as possible while still looking like an actual throw. Once the die approached the symbol he wanted, he arrested its movement. Doing this too eagerly, the cube wobbled and clearly looked wrong, but it worked. All he had to do now was practice until he could make it look natural, and then add the other die, possibly letting them fall out of his hand one by one with a small delay. And once he had mastered this, his money troubles would be over.