Guild Mage: Apprentice

Geometric embellishments of rime bordered Liv's window panes like a gilt wooden frame surrounding a hung portrait. Unlike the warmer climes in Coral Bay, Akela Kila, or in Varuna, mountain communities such as Whitehill often saw overnight frosts late into spring, and occasionally even early summer.

She blinked, pulling her eyes away from the frozen designs etched across the glass, and back down to the parchment resting on the vanity in front of her. Liv dipped her quill pen in the bottle of ink to her right, and scratched a line through 'write to Elder Aira and Grandmother.' Striking one item from her list did not, however, appreciably shorten it.

"Try to hold still, your majesty," Thora chided her. "You should really have ladies in waiting to help out in the mornings." The lady's maid's fingers worked smoothly and efficiently to braid Liv's hair into a single thick plait which would hang down her back. It had only been three days since she'd slept for a night at Bald Peak, but already the headaches were returning. It wasn't Thora's fault that every tug on Liv's scalp made matters worse, and she was determined not to show it by so much as a single finch.

"Ladies in waiting' is about as far down my list as it's possible to be," Liv grumbled. "Beside the fact I have no room for them, I can't say that I see the point. Anyway, I'm not really a queen. Not like you're thinking, at any rate."

"Oh?" Thora asked, stepping around Liv's left side now that she'd finished her braiding. "What's this for, then?" The other woman lifted the silver crown of Celris from where it had been set on top of a cushion the evening before. She brought the ancient artifact over and carefully set it on Liv's brow.

"I'm a symbol," Liv said. "So long as I'm the visible head of this alliance, anyone in Lucania who's nursing a grudge against us is going to have to think twice about causing trouble. But nothing's going to change in Whitehill, really. I'm going to leave Matthew and Triss in charge here. That was always the plan."

Thora reached around Liv and tipped the mirror on the vanity so that they could both see her face. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but once the words are said, you can't take them back. If you're expecting nothing to change, I think you'll be disappointed."

Liv looked down at her parchment. "Perhaps not nothing," she admitted. She reached over for her cork and used it to stop the inkwell, then set aside her quill. Thora took the parchment, then stepped back to make room, and Liv stood, pushing her chair aside. She walked over to the end table next to her bed, where her adopted mother's wand waited.

The stormwand - one of a matched pair - had been crafted from the bones of Sivis, Vædic Lord of Storms. He'd been the father of Mirriam, and the first of the old gods to die at her hands, twelve hundred years earlier. Liv wasn't certain who had done the enchantments carved into the length of bone: her adopted mother, Julianne, had never told her. And now, Liv would never have the chance to ask.

After only a moment's hesitation, she snatched the stormwand up and inserted it into the leather sheath that hung from her belt. With her own wand destroyed during the fight against Genevieve Arundell, Liv had been left with a choice between going back to carrying her old staff, or using the stormwand. After years carrying a wand, she had no intention of swapping to something larger and less convenient. On top of that, the stormwand had capabilities she hadn't realized it possessed, until she watched Julianne draw upon them. Liv hadn't had a chance to explore what the wand could do, but perhaps she could find the time today. Or tomorrow.

The moment she stepped out of her sitting room into the second floor corridor at Castle Whitehill, Liv noted that Kaija peeled herself off the wall and fell into step on her left side. With Ghveris still up in the ring, keeping watch over Keri, the Elden armorer had been splitting the clock with Wren, so that one of them was protecting Liv at all times. If it had been Wren's turn, Liv had no doubt that the huntress would have been lounging about in the sitting room during the entire time her hair was being done.

"Word from Al'Fenthia," Kaija began, not bothering with niceties. "Apparently, your grandmother and Elder Aira were already more than half-packed for a trip when the messenger arrived. They said to tell you they'd arrive sometime today, and, I quote, 'not to try anything foolish' until they get here. They had our woman sent right back this morning, and she's downstairs getting a meal."

"Good." A little bit of the tension in Liv's shoulders eased at the news. While there were a great many things of larger scale to concern her, problems that needed to be immediately addressed, decisions that would have a wider impact, she could admit to herself that Beatrice's pregnancy had been the matter weighing on her the most. The last thing she wanted was for her sister-in-law to suffer any more, when there existed a means of helping her. But at the same time - Liv had no idea what would happen if she took Triss up to the ring.

It was one of the blind spots that occasionally came up, reminding Liv what she'd missed by not being raised among her father's people since birth. She was certain that if she had been, with a mother, aunt and grandmother to explain these things to her, she would know precisely how the Eld managed the problem of exposing an infant in the womb to mana-rich areas.

In Lucania, the Watchful Guild of Magim explicitly forbid pregnant mages from entering even the shoals of a rift, excused them from their culling duties for the duration of the pregnancy, and would even impose penalties on a woman who deliberately ignored those rules. And yet, for the Eld, Liv knew, that couldn't have been practical - especially for those who, like Elder Aira, were direct descendents of one of the Vædim.

Liv even suspected that, if it were her baby, she could use Elden meditation and breathing techniques to steer mana away from the child, diverting the flow to other parts of her body. After all, she had plenty of practice circulating mana to specific parts of her body in order to accelerate healing.

But the trouble was, she would have had to teach Triss from scratch. When you were learning anything new, and this went double for magic, you were liable to make mistakes. It was practically guaranteed. And a single mistake could hurt the baby.

The two Whitehill guards at the doors to the great hall stepped lively at Liv's approach, opening the double wooden doors for her. Twenty-six years ago, those doors had been brand new. In fact, Liv had been the reason that they needed to be replaced. Now, they looked their age, and would probably need to be taken down soon, and a new set commissioned.

Every person in the hall, from the low tables to the high, stood when she walked in, with both Thora and Kaija trailing behind her. It brought back the old feeling, the wanting to hide, to hunch her shoulders and lower her eyes rather than be the center of attention. Instead, Liv kept her gaze fixed ahead to the high table, where an empty seat at the center awaited her.

She rounded the table, giving a nod and a smile to those sitting there, and waited just long enough for Matthew to pull out her chair before she took a seat. He was the last one who should have been doing it, with only one hand, but her adopted brother showed not the slightest indication he would back off and leave it to someone else. Only after he was finished did Matthew settle back into his seat at her right hand.

It did not escape Liv's notice that her sister-in-law was not present. Rather than allow her eyes to linger on Triss' empty place, she lowered her voice and turned toward Matthew, as the people crowding the tables settled back in, turning back to their heaped plates and conversation. "Triss?"

"Can't keep food down," Matthew admitted. "It's just like the times before. Mistress Trafford wants her to drink a tea of pennyroyal and rue." Anyone who knew him less well than Liv did might have thought he was discussing the weather, from his even tone - but Liv could hear that agony, and the question, in her brother's voice. He'd been almost hollow ever since his parents were placed on the funeral pyre, as if he was only half present.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Tell them not yet," Liv said. "My grandmother is on her way, and should be here sometime today." She silently thanked Professor Annora for teaching her just what that combination of herbs - and half a dozen others, which would have the same effect - could do. Old Master Cushing seemed to have considered it improper for a young girl to know how to end a pregnancy.

"Your breakfast, Your Majesty," Basil murmured. The former steward of Acton House seemed to have come to some sort of arrangement with Archibald, in the brief time since Liv and everyone else had returned from the pass, somewhere in between service and attending funeral rites. She'd been informed - without the slightest opportunity to make her own decision! - the evening after their arrival that Archie would remain steward at Castle Whitehill, while Basil would follow Liv wherever she went. How that was going to work when she needed to get back to the shoals at Bald Peak as soon as she could, Liv hadn't quite figured out yet. And Thora was just as determined to go with her.

"Fresh, griddled trout from the curve of the river beneath Bald Peak," Basil explained, as he set a platter in front of her. "Basted with fresh butter and sage and thyme grown at the edge of the shoals, as well as rosemary, sage, sea salt and pepper from Lendh ka Dakruim. Honey-cakes made with flour shipped south from Al'Fenthia. And smoked bacon, of course. We've had a stock of hogs kept at the edge of the shoals since you first came back from the college."

The steward straightened, but did not immediately depart, and Liv realized that he was waiting for her to actually try the food. She took up her fork, used the side of one tine to slice off a piece of fish, and lifted it to her mouth. The mana-content wasn't as high as something she might have gotten in Kelthelis, but it was cooked perfectly.

"It's excellent," Liv said, once she'd had a chance to swallow and wash the fish down with a gulp of watered wine. "Please give Eglenti my compliments."

Only once approval had been given did Basil bow and back away, leaving Liv to her meal. It was true, the meal was wonderfully done - and yet, she couldn't help but miss her own mother's cooking. Still, apparently it would have been scandalous for the mother of a queen to continue working in the kitchen, even in a supervisory capacity, and so Margaret Brodbeck had stepped aside so that one of her undercooks could take over.

"Take a look over my list," Liv said, to Sidonie, who was sitting on her left. Thora, who'd been waiting in the wings, so to speak, stepped forward and set the piece of parchment down on the table between their plates.

Sidonie took a drink, then lifted the list, adjusted her glasses to lie further up her nose with one finger, and began to read. "I think this has doubled in size since last night," she grumbled. "And this is everything you want done before you head to Varuna? Some of this is going to take months, or years. You want to finish the keep on Bald Peak, build a new college at the base of the mountain, and what's this about training soldiers in magic?"

"I want it all started," Liv clarified. "I know it's going to take time. But those are all things we're going to need if Lucania - or Ractia - or someone else comes at Whitehill again."

"Make contact with the Red Shield tribe and send a joint scouting expedition to Godsgrave," Sidonie continued, scanning down the parchment. "Another scouting expedition to the eagle's nest rift, to see whether the valley there could support resettlement of the refugees from Ashford. You want to meet with the banker's guild - Liv, this is all going to take months. There's no way you can get even half of this started before you leave to meet your father in Varuna. Unless you want to delay that. It would give time for Keri to recover," she pointed out.

"I want to leave in a week, whether he's awake or not," Liv said, firmly, in between bites of the honey cake, which turned out to be exceptionally tasty. Not quite the same as her mother's, but still delicious. "The entire point of swinging support south to Whitehill was to deal with Lucania quickly, so that we can focus on moving troops to Varuna. We have two staging grounds, now, and secure supply lines. In the meantime, we've got no idea what Ractia's been doing. We can't afford to waste time."

"Still," Matthew said, reaching across the table, and getting his arm nearly in Liv's face in order to take the list from Sidonie, "a lot of this you don't need to do yourself. I can get a scouting party sent to Valegard, at least, if you write down directions north to the rift from there."

"Good." Liv glanced back to Kaija. "I assume Wren's asleep?"

The armorer nodded. "She had the night shift."

"When she's awake, then, we can make arrangements to send her through the waystone to the bridge on the Airaduinë," Liv decided. "From there she can get in touch with her cousin and arrange it."

"No," Kaija declared, flatly.

Liv blinked. "Excuse me?"

"We didn't have enough people to protect you before you left Ghveris on the ring," Kaija said. "It's hardly possible to keep up with just Wren and I. If you send her to Varuna, there's simply no way I can manage by myself. We've been, as the southerners say, 'half-assing' this, and it's got to stop."

Liv set her fork down. "I don't need protection," she said. The words seemed to slide into a momentary stillness in the conversation, one of those odd moments in the ebb and flow of voices among a crowded room, and thus her words carried farther than she had intended.

Arjun coughed, from where he and Mistress Trafford had their heads together at the left end of the high table. "I seem to recall having to engrave enchantments into your bones, Liv," her friend pointed out. "Enchantments which broke when you fell out of the sky on a mountainside."

"That was before I'd mastered my Authority," Liv pointed out, bristling. She tried to keep a smile plastered to her face, but it felt fake.

"I hadn't heard that story yet," Matthew remarked, from beside her.

"I presume that would be after she left Coral Bay," Guild Mistress Every said, from down the other end of the table. Kazimir Grenfell, whose lightning scars were still vivid on his skin, sat beside her, but had only cleared about half his plate. "Where she, as I recall, had a broken arm on the very first day."

"The point is," Kaija said, "you've placed a target on your back, and you weren't great about staying out of trouble before. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but you need to have an actual personal guard. Twenty people, at least, to work in shifts, who we know you can trust. With a chain of command."

Liv raised her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. "There are more important things for me to be doing right now," she insisted.

"You don't need to do it yourself," Kaija insisted. "Just give me the word, and enough coin, and I'll make it happen. A mix of human and Eld warriors. Veterans of the pass."

Coin. That was going to be an issue. Liv had a personal account with the Most Noble Bankers' Guild, which was now swollen by ransoms for the nobles and knights captured during the battle. The number was, frankly, ridiculous - over thirty-two thousand gold, by the time horses and armor were counted in - but she also didn't know how it was going to get replenished. Twenty guards would need to be paid, fed, and equipped. Blood and shadows, they'd probably need horses, too.

"How much?" Liv asked, after a moment.

"Give me forty-five Lucanian crowns, forty of the captured destriers, our pick of arms and armor from the field, and we'll talk in a year," Kaija said.

Compared to what she was liable to spend building a college and a keep worth living in, it was a pittance. "Do it, then," Liv said. "Now. Is there anything else I need to deal with right at this moment, or can I head out to the yard and teach my students?"

When there was nothing but the occasional scraping of forks and knives on platters down the length of the high table to either side, Liv rose. "Good." Leaving a bare plate that she only half-remembered clearing, she walked back down the center aisle, attempting to ignore the fact that everyone rose once again as she walked by.

Out in the courtyard, the crowd had already gathered, as it did now every morning to watch her teach. Two lines of students waited for Liv, along with a barrel half full of rough wands that Lia Every, Sidonie, and Master Grenfell had helped her make.

At the sight of Liv, the waiting students straightened, as if they were trying to be soldiers at attention. For a moment, she imagined what Master Jurian would say, and on a whim she permitted herself to give voice to her memories.

"No better way to start the morning than to run!" Liv shouted to them. "Out the gates, and to the river and back! Go!"

Watching the students break into motion, scrambling out through the castle gate, was perhaps the most satisfying thing that Liv had seen since the moment she'd woke.