When the Talbots’ back door swung open, it did not reveal either Cade or his father, but instead a woman dressed in the plain skirt, apron, and cap of a maid. “Please tell Cade that I’m in back,” Liv said. “I’ll wait here.”
“Yes, m’lady,” the maid said, made a curtsy, and disappeared back into the house. Liv wandered about the practice yard for a moment, and wondered if there might not have still been a small piece of garden, with a bench to sit on, if his mother had survived. It was growing quite chilly as the sun descended, but she preferred the cold to Baron Talbot.
“Liv!” Cade called, rushing out the back door. “I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything well?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Only, we’re leaving to go back to Whitehill in the morning, and I wanted to say goodbye to you before we did.”
“We’re staying for however long the council lasts,” Cade complained. “Though I expect all the most exciting parts have already happened. Duchess Julianne was confirmed in her new station today, and renewed her pledge of fealty to her father. There will be a good bit more discussion about the Eldish blood cult, but the Archmagus announced the mages’ guild is sending two expeditions to Varuna.”
“Yes, we talked about that a bit at the conclave,” Liv recalled. “If we were older, we could go.”
“Would you want to?” Cade asked. “A lot of people never come back from those jungles.”
“I think I would,” Liv said. “Someday. I feel involved, already. And there’s someone that I want to track down, and ask a few questions. But none of that is why I came by. I wanted to ask if you would write to me?”
“Of course,” Cade said. “And perhaps we can even arrange a visit.”
“That would be nice. Only I think you would need to come to me,” she decided. “It’s going to be so odd to go back to Whitehill without all of you. I feel like, in just a short while here, I got a taste of what it is like to have a few friends - you, and Beatrice, and if we’d had more time maybe even Sidonie. And now it’s back to none of that.”
“You don’t have any friends in Whitehill?” Cade asked her. “I find that hard to believe.”
“One,” Liv admitted. “Emma. But she’s getting married soon, and I already don’t see as much of her as I did a few years ago. There were plenty of girls interested in following Matthew around, but I’m - well, it’s different than here. Anyone who looks the same age as me, I remember them as a small child. And anyone actually my age is grown with a family. I suppose I’m just too strange. Here I could pretend I wasn’t different, because I was meeting you all for the first time.”
“You said you’re going to Coral Bay in what, five years?”
“Six,” Liv said.
“And I’ll be there in four,” Cade told her. “Which means we’ll have half our time there together. I’m sure I’ll have met a few people by the time you arrive, and I’ll introduce you around. And I’ll keep writing you, of course, when I get there. You’ll know all about the place in no time.”
“That would be nice,” Liv said, but privately she wondered. It was one thing to court someone who was right there in front of you, with exciting masques at the palace and duels on the shore and all of the intrigue of her short time at Freeport, but six years was a long time. And there would be plenty of other girls at college for Cade to pursue, while she was stuck in Whitehill. Liv was surprised to discover the idea of him forgetting about her was upsetting.
“Is something wrong?” Cade asked, and she realized that she’d spent too long drifting in her thoughts.
“No,” Liv said. “Only I shouldn’t stay long, I suppose. Don’t forget to write to me.” On a sudden impulse, she decided to give him a reason to remember her, bounced up on her tip toes, and pressed a very quick kiss to his lips. Before she could do anything else to embarrass herself, she spun around and fled through the menagerie and down to the beach, cheeks and the tips of her ears burning.
☙
Early the next morning, dressed in winter skirts and cloak for the journey, Liv found herself introduced to the oddest horse that she’d ever met. The mare was somewhat squat, with unusually short legs and a very round body covered in a thick, shaggy coat, all of light grey that reminded her of the stones washed smooth by waves down on the beach.
“Her name is Steria,” Liv’s father explained. “She is four years old, and well trained. I brought her for you, when I came.” He motioned to his own horse, clearly of the same breed, though colored bay. “We’ve bred them for over a thousand years to live in the north, and to survive conditions that would kill any other horse. They can find grass to eat even under snow, and hibernate on their feet like a bear does in its cave.”
Liv couldn’t stop grinning at the feel of the mare’s nose snuffling against her palm after a bit of carrot. “Star. I love her,” she said. “Thank you.”
“My motivations are selfish,” Valtteri admitted. “You’ll need her to visit Kelthelis, and riding will also give us an opportunity to speak privately while the others are riding in carriages.”
“I forgive you,” Liv said, and handed her staff off to Thora. “Give me a hand up?” Her father bent over and cupped his hands together for Liv’s boot, then lifted. Only after she’d gotten herself situated sidesaddle, and arranged her skirts, did she reach down to accept the staff back from Thora.
“I notice you’re wearing the princess’ jewelry,” Julianne said, pausing on her way to the lead carriage. “Showing it off a bit?”
“Mostly because I’ve learned that I need to be ready for the unexpected,” Liv explained. “And the Bald Peak waystone is just at the edge of the shoal. But maybe a little bit of showing off, too,” she admitted. Julianne laughed, and continued on her way. Liv’s father swung himself up into his own saddle without any difficulty, and his gelding pranced as if eager to be off.
“I’ll be in the servants’ carriage if you need me, m’lady,” Thora said.
“I’m looking forward to showing you the mountains,” Liv told her. “The air is nothing like here - it’s clean, less heavy. And the sky goes on forever. I think you’re going to love Whitehill.”
When all the trunks were strapped to the carriages, all the guards mounted up, and all the passengers settled on their benches, the drivers led the way across the city. Unlike their entrance into Freeport less than a tenday before, this time, the procession did not pass unnoticed.
“Rumors must have gotten around,” her father observed, riding next to her. “Of the new duchess.”
“Or perhaps they’re just taking the opportunity to gawk at two Eld riding on our strange northern horses,” Liv guessed. Though she hated being the center of attention, she couldn’t keep a smile off her face. She was going home, and that felt good. More than that, she was going home with her father.
“Perhaps,” Valtteri agreed. “Now, a few things while we ride. First, do not use your mana to heal without my supervision until I’ve given you permission to do so.”
“I’m used to having patience,” Liv said. “It’s like the future tense all over again.”
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“There is a reason,” her father explained. “You aren’t done growing yet, Liv. Using mana in that way slows down the aging process. It is part of how our people survive for so long. But at the moment, we don’t want to slow down your aging any further. You should only use the technique in an emergency, at least until you’ve finished at college. We’ll balance that with the need for you to practice until I’m confident you won’t hurt yourself unsupervised, of course.”
Liv nodded. “I assume that means it isn’t taught at Coral Bay.”
“No,” her father said. “In fact, you’d do best not to speak of it among humans at all. Archmagus Loredan learned it during his travels among our people, and I would be a fool not to expect that he’s quietly taught a few of his closest students. But he made an agreement not to speak of it, nor to teach it, to any of the noble houses. We don’t want to upset the balance of power by introducing something like that to the kingdom of Lucania at large.”
“I imagine everyone would want to do it,” Liv said.
“They would. But look at how humans have used their words of power - hoarded among noble families for political advantage, rather than shared and used for the good of everyone,” Valtteri said. “We fear this technique would only be abused in the same way. Someone like Benedict would extend his reign for as long as he could, while watching his political opponents die.”
“But the archmagus is different?”
“Since Blackstone founded that guild, it has been the only thing in Lucania that gives us any hope that humans might one day be trusted with more knowledge,” Valtteri said. “And Caspian Loredan has been a worthy successor thus far. We judged it worth the risk to keep him at the helm a bit longer. I suppose we’ll find out whether the decision blows up in our faces in another few decades.”
“Alright,” Liv said. They followed the carriages around a street corner and began making their way up the hill into the neighborhood where Freeport’s waystone was located. “I can put that aside; I have plenty of other things to work on. I want a wand, first of all. I love this staff, but it’s just too clumsy to carry around everywhere. Something smaller, I could wear on a belt, and not have to be holding all the time.”
“Master Grenfell made the one you have now?” her father asked, and Liv nodded her head. “Then the three of us can make that our first project, I imagine. And then you and I will go out to the shoals of the rift, so that I can teach you how to safely handle that kind of dense mana. We will have plenty to keep us busy.”
The gate that led to the waystone was protected by half a dozen royal guards, who spoke to Julianne and Henry in the first carriage for several minutes while the procession waited. Liv had to mentally remind herself that it was Duchess Julianne, now, rather than ‘lady.’ It was going to take a bit of getting used to.
Finally, they were waved through, and Liv and her father dismounted while Julianne and Master Grenfell got out of their carriage.
“Go ahead and find the sigil,” Grenfell called over to Liv. “Consider it an exercise.” While the adults waited for her, Liv paced around the perimeter of the great stone circle, looking from one to the next. She’d never seen the sigil for Bald Peak before, because it wasn’t on the waystone they’d departed from - just like the sigil for Freeport wouldn’t be on this one.
Liv found the inscriptions for Coral Bay and Al'Fenthia easily enough, and even the space where the sigil for Freeport would have been, if they’d been standing on the Bald Peak waystone. “Is it this one?” she asked. “Everything else is in the same order, I think. Are they all like that?”
“Not quite,” Grenfell said. “You have indeed found the missing sigil correctly, but remember that every other stone connects to this one. There’s no reason to expect that Bald Peak, in particular, would be the substitution. The Vædim simply had a single order of inscriptions, and deleted one when crafting each stone.”
“That is not entirely accurate,” Liv’s father broke in. “From everything I’ve been taught, these were not carved by hand. One of the enchantments layered inside maintains the connections to the rest of the waystone network. When a new stone was added, all of the others would simply adjust to fit the new sigil in. Go back to the sigils for Al'Fenthia.”
Liv circled left, and pointed her staff down. “This one.”
“Good,” Master Grenfell said. “One right.” Together, the four of them gathered around the correct symbols, crouching down on the waystone and pressing their hands together. “Just like the last time,” her teacher said. “Only this stone is larger, so the drain will be more. Liv, why don’t you begin, this time.”
“Alright.” She swallowed, then closed her eyes. It helped to have felt Master Grenfell do it once before, and Liv also thought that having spent an entire night moving her mana throughout her body gave her a better idea of what to do now. It was still a bit slow and sluggish to get started, but once the first hint of her mana touched the waystone, everything changed, just as she remembered.
Again, she had the mental image of thin ice breaking, and wondered whether that was only because of the particular word of power she used. Mana poured out of all four of them in a flood, and she counted eight rings, at least, before blue light began to rise from the waystone. Finally, the pull on her reserves cut off, and Liv pulled her hand off the stone.
“Good,” Duchess Julianne said. “Excellent job, Liv.” She patted Liv on the arm, then turned and followed Master Grenfell back into their carriage.
“I would recommend remaining seated here,” Liv’s father said, so she shifted to cross her legs and sit back on the stone. The two of them waited, to either side of the sigil, until the count of two hundred had passed. Then, for the second time, a brilliant white light burned through everyone and everything, obliterating the world around her.
This time, the dark place was not so unexpected, and Liv had an infinite moment to cast whatever she was about. There was nothing to see, to feel, to hear or taste or touch, but she did not feel alone. In fact, she was quite convinced that though the world was very far away - or perhaps it was Liv who was very far away - there were other presences close by. Before she could try to reach out to them, the world returned.
Liv drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes. The bluff over the Aspen River was cold with morning frost, and there was the bite of coming snow in the air. The horses whinnied and pranced, and overhead white clouds were lit by mountain sunlight.
“How does it work?” she asked her father, who had already scrambled to his feet. He reached down a hand, and Liv accepted it. Valtteri easily pulled her upright, and seemed to consider his response while he helped her mount Steria once again. It was only once the entire procession had moved off of the waystone and over the wooden bridge toward the south road that he made an attempt at an explanation.
“The Vædim could do things with magic that they never explained, even to their most favoured servants,” her father began. “The waystones fall into that category. I can tell you why sections of the network are failing,” Valtteri said. “Or at least our best guesses. But even the Vakansa who survive with memories of life before the war have never been able to build a new waystone. I think the answer to your question begins with another question: what are you?”
“Me? Half Eld, half human,” Liv answered easily. Many of the trees along the side of the road had lost their leaves, in the short time they’d been gone, and the difference was jarring.
“What separates you from some other girl with a human mother and an Elden father, then?”
“Are there any?” Liv shot back.
“A few, mostly in Al'Fenthia,” her father confirmed. “But why are they distinct from you? From Livara?”
“Well, they don’t have my exact parents, in any case,” she said. “And they didn’t grow up in Whitehill, or know the people I’ve known. They might not have a talent for magic, and they won’t have done the same things as me.”
“Are we only the sum total of our experiences, then?” Valtteri asked her. “We are exposed to different pieces of the world, at different times, and it acts upon us, shapes us into something distinctive? That would be a very passive view of the world.”
“No, I think we’re unique,” Liv said. “And then the things we experience make us more so.”
“What is it, precisely, that is unique?” her father asked. “We both have arms and legs, eyes and ears. You look a great deal like my sister did. If we dressed you in her clothing, and had your hair done the way she wore it, you might even pass for her well enough to fool someone.”
“It isn’t something physical,” Liv said, and tapped a finger against her forehead. “It’s in here, and here.” She dropped her hand to rest it over her heart. “I’m me. I don’t know a better way to put it, but I’m no one else.”
“There it is,” Valtteri said. “Not something physical. Would you continue to be you without your body, then? If an avalanche of stones and snow came down from that summit right now,” he asked, pointing an arm up at Bald Peak, “and ripped an arm from your body, would the loss of it mean you were no longer Liv?”
“No, of course not,” she said. “My arm isn’t me.”
“Time comes for all of us, sooner or later,” her father said. “Whether it takes fifty years or five hundred. Your skin will wrinkle, your vision dull. Your back will bend. When my precious daughter is an ancient crone, will you still be Liv?”
“Yes, though I’m not certain I want to think about that,” Liv told him, with a grin.
“There is your answer, then. There is some part of us that is untouchable,” Valtteri said. “That persists, even after death. Whether the mana changes your physical form into raw energy and sends it coursing through the earth in an instant, or whether it breaks your body down into nothing and rebuilds you at your destination, I cannot say. But that essence of you is moved - taken out of this world, perhaps, and then returned in a different place.”
“Wait,” Liv said. “Is that actually how it works? Which one? Is this even my body?”
“You just said your body wasn’t you,” her father said, with a laugh. “Of all things in the vast world, don’t think about this one too hard. Come on!” He squeezed his heels into the flanks of his bay gelding, and the northern horse bolted forward, running off the side of the road to pass the slower carriages. Unwilling to be left behind, Liv flicked her reins and followed, letting Steria stretch her legs under the endless mountain sky.