It was just about time for luncheon when the carriages made their way up the cobblestone streets of The Hill to the gate of Castle Whitehill. The procession’s passage brought a crowd of children running along beside them, and Liv found that she and her father were particular favorites.
After an exhilarating ride through the wooded hills, they’d dropped back to rejoin the carriages and guards before entering the town. Two pheasants hung from Liv’s saddle, taken from the very edge of the shoal using sliver-thin shards of ice to their heads. Liv’s father, with his long white braids and fur-lined cloak, was so clearly a foreigner that the children in the streets shouted questions.
“I suppose hardly anyone will remember me,” Valtteri called to Liv over the racket. She leaned down out of her saddle to wave at the children, returning their grins.
“A few will,” she told him. “Mama and Gretta.”
The ride through town had given the staff at the castle enough time to turn out to greet them, though so many had gone to Freeport that the line in the courtyard looked rather small, and was mostly made up of the guards who’d been left behind. Liv waited for Henry and Duchess Julianne to emerge from their carriage first; the footmen quickly had one of the wheeled chairs which had been bought in the capital set up.
Only after Julianne had wheeled Henry into the house did Liv dismount. “I’ll see you again soon, Steria,” she told the mare, pressing her face into the horse’s warm neck before handing her reins off to one of the stableboys. “Can you see these get down to the kitchen?” she asked, handing off the pheasants. Then, she turned and made her way over to where her mother and Gretta were waiting.
“We’re back, Mama,” Liv said. It was very nice to be squeezed in the arms of someone familiar. Even though she knew that she really hadn’t been gone for very long, so much had happened that it felt an eternity.
“We all thought you’d be gone the entire winter,” Gretta remarked, taking her turn for a hug as soon as Liv’s mother had released her.
Mama’s eyes slid from Liv to her father, as he turned his gelding over. “I didn’t expect that,” she murmured.
“It’s alright, Mama,” Liv said. “He kept me safe.” She reached out for her mother’s hand, and took it in hers.
“I’m not afraid of him, dear - at least not in that way.” Mama took a deep breath, clearly bracing herself.
“Hello, Margaret,” Liv’s father greeted her, approaching them. “It is good to see you again.”
Liv had never seen her mother so nervous. “You look as if you’ve hardly aged at all,” Mama said, making an attempt at a smile. “It’s one thing to know it, and another to see it. And here I am, all wrinkled and worn out.”
“I would know your eyes anywhere,” Valtteri told her. “And your voice. Do you still sing?”
“I do.” Margaret Brodbeck looked over to Gretta. “Can you finish getting lunch out in the great hall?”
“It’s just cold cuts and last night’s stew,” Gretta said. “I was doing this before you were born, you silly girl. Take as long as you need.” The old woman turned and made her way toward the kitchens.
“Livara, I think that your mother and I need to speak alone for a bit,” Valtteri said. “I’m sure you have settling in to do?”
“I’ll come and find you after the meal,” Liv told her mother. She wrapped the older woman up in her arms one more time, then walked across the courtyard to where the servants were unloading. “Thora!”
“Yes, m’lady?” The maid curtsied.
“Let me show you the castle,” Liv said. “I’m sure you’ll learn where everything is quick enough. Thank you again for coming north with us.” She took Thora in through the kitchen entrance, showed her the servants’ hall, and then brought her upstairs. By the time they’d reached Liv’s rooms, her trunks had already been brought up.
“It’s much more a castle than a house, isn’t it?” Thora asked. Liv threw herself down on her own, familiar bed with a great feeling of relief. “I mean, I knew that already, but seeing it is something else entirely. There’s hardly anything like this left in Freeport, except at the city gates, or the sea forts overlooking the harbor.”
“We have to fight off eruptions with what we have, here,” Liv mumbled, hugging her pillow. “When it happens, everyone crowds into the castle or the temple to take shelter.”
“How often does the rift erupt, m’lady?” Thora asked, and Liv realized from the tremble in her voice the idea scared the girl a bit. She sat up.
“Only once that I can remember,” she said. “A bit different here from what you’re used to?”
Thora nodded. “At Freeport, there’s scores and scores of royal guards, mages from the guild, and whatever young nobles in the city want to make a name for themselves. It’s more like a sport than anything. I can’t remember the last time any kind of monster actually made it to the city.”
“It’ll be a bit more exciting here,” Liv said. “But there’s been no signs of one coming before we left, so I don’t think you need to worry about it for a bit, Thora.”
The maid took a deep breath and nodded. “That’s good to hear. If you’d like to have a bite to eat, m’lady, I’ll get everything unpacked here.”
“Thank you, Thora.” Liv said, and rolled off the bed to head downstairs to the great hall.
☙
Liv found herself a seat next to Master Grenfell, and filled her plate with cold slices of roast beef and cheese. There were slices of bread baked that morning, butter to spread on them and a bean stew for dipping.
“I want to make a wand,” she told her teacher in between bites. “Now that we’re home. Can we do it tomorrow?”
The master mage nodded. “We can take a ride out into the woods and find you a good length of aspen, if you’d like to use the same material again.”
“Or,” her father said, coming up to the table and taking a seat on Liv’s other side, “we can go find a buck that’s been living in the shoals, and make you a wand of bone.” He began to pile food onto his own plate.
Liv chewed, swallowed, and took a drink of fresh cider from the apple harvest while she thought. “I like the feel of the aspen wood,” she admitted. “But I don’t rightly know the difference. I saw both the princess and Lady - Duchess,” she corrected herself, “Julianne have bone.”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“Mana often accumulates in the bones,” Master Grenfell explained. “You’ll recall this from our study of the stone bats. “When a bone becomes adapted to mana storage, we call it a casque. The enchantment to focus your mana-flow through a bone wand would be essentially the same, if a touch less powerful. The reason I gave you a staff first is that you needed as much help with control as you could get. But there’s no reason you couldn’t adapt to using a wand now - you’ve plenty of experience.”
“What it would do is make you a more effective anchor for contingent spells,” her father explained. “Much like a piece of mana-stone. And like mana-stone, you could store power within the wand. In fact, if you have an idea of what sort of spells you’d like to keep ready to use, we can build triggers into the construction of the wand.”
Liv considered. “I want something that will last me through Coral Bay, and hopefully after that,” she said. “Let’s make it of bone, then.”
Master Grenfell raised his hand and called over Edward, the third footman. “Run up to my room and fetch paper, quills and ink, lad,” he instructed.
“Could we actually set a mana-stone in the handle?” Liv asked, thinking things over. “Like the pommel of a sword?”
“It’s expensive,” Grenfell said. “Ten crowns for the smallest stones, like the ones in our rings. For something the size of a pommel? Forty, at least. Probably more.”
“If it’s so much more expensive, why doesn’t everyone just use bone?” Liv asked.
“A casque is far less efficient,” her father said. “That little chip of stone in your ring holds as much mana as a wand the size of your arm. If you have the coins, stones set in jewelry are the best choice for pure storage. Casques are easier to come by, especially after an eruption, and make a good base for enchantments or to hold contingent magic.”
Liv looked over the bone charms hanging from the end of his braids. “Is every one of those a spell?” she asked.
“Not all of them,” Valtteri told her, grinning. “About half hold the same sigils we’ll be putting on your wand - they help me to focus my mana. If there’s one thing we have plenty of, it’s mana-beasts to harvest for casques.”
“I don’t have forty crowns,” Liv said. “But that’s only eight months of saving, if I take what I’m allowed from the banker’s guild each month. Let’s make the wand with a setting at the bottom of the handle to hold a stone, and leave it empty for the moment. You said we could build triggers in?”
“The wand doesn’t need to be a single piece,” her father explained. “What if you could twist the handle to trigger a spell? Or press a button?”
Edward delivered quills, ink, and paper to the table a few moments later, and the three of them got to work sketching out plans.
☙
After a few hours of scrapping designs, they finally had something that Liv was satisfied with. She was going to have to speak to Julianne about getting access to her own account with the bankers’ guild; that forty crowns pension, annually, which she’d hardly touched in eighteen years, was going to be what funded this. She needed to commission the stone for her future wand’s pommel to be cut and polished, and there were other things to buy, as well. A leather holster for her belt, for instance, and springs from the blacksmith to make the buttons work. And of course, there was no one in Whitehill who specialized in carving bone, which meant the work would need to be done somewhere else. They might have been able to finish a wand from aspen themselves over the course of a few days, but this project was going to be much more involved than that.
Still, Liv was excited to have a rolled up sheet of paper tucked under her arm when she went down to the kitchens to find her mother. She’d told Master Grenfell and her father that she wanted a wand that would last her for years to come, and Liv was satisfied with the plans they’d settled on.
Liv found her mother and Gretta plucking the pheasants she’d brought down on the ride south from the waystone. “Going to use them tonight?” she called, as she bounced into the room.
“Aye, while they’re fresh,” Mama said, turning around to greet her with a smile.
“We’ll be going out for a big buck tomorrow,” Liv told her. “For the bones. But we’ll bring the meat back, as well.”
“We can make venison steaks, then,” Gretta said. “That will be nice. I can finish this up, Maggie.”
“Thank you,” Liv’s mother said, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Let’s take a walk, dove.”
They stepped out into the garden. The herbs, fruits and root vegetables had been gathered for the season, leaving bare branches and frosted soil that had not yet been covered by snow. “Are you alright?” Liv asked her mother, once they were away by themselves. “I would have written to warn you, but it all happened so fast there was no way a letter would have gotten here before we did.”
“Don’t worry about me, Livy,” Mama told her. “What’s between your father and I is our business, and not your problem, you understand?”
Liv nodded her head, but couldn’t keep from worrying. “I’m not leaving, you know,” she promised. “We’ve talked about it. He’s going to stay in Whitehill for a bit, to teach me, but he said he’d find a place in town if it made you more comfortable.”
“I daresay Valtteri has more reason to be angry with me, than I do with him,” Mama said. “After all, I could have found a way to tell him about you long since, if I’d really tried. But I wanted to keep you safe here. We can see how well that worked out,” she grumbled. “Dueling princesses and fighting in alleys? You seem to have gotten up to a good deal of trouble in Freeport. And what’s this about some boy courting you?”
Liv couldn’t help but squirm. “I don’t know. Nothing’s settled, I’ve been clear about that. He lost his mother when he was young, and I think it means we understand each other, a bit. It was nice to dress up and dance at the palace, and have someone who paid attention to me. I can’t help but think it’ll be out of sight, out of mind, though, and that he’ll move on to some other girl now I’m here.”
“If he does, he didn’t deserve you to begin with,” her mother assured her. “Now. Your father did mention his idea of staying in town to me. I told him I agreed with him, that it would probably be more comfortable for both of us.”
“You don’t think, now that you’ve seen each other again-” Liv began, and her mother laughed.
“It’s been a very long time, my dear,” she said. “More than half my life ago. It was wonderful and romantic when it happened, and I’m grateful to have you. But I’d never ask the man to take me on in my old age.”
“You’re not old,” Liv protested.
“I’m fifty-four, dear,” Mama told her. “I’m long past the fantasy he’d come back and sweep me away to his winter palace. Seeing your father again in the courtyard settled that once and for all. He’ll still be a young man when I’m dead and in the grave. Let’s be grateful for what we have, and leave it at that."
☙
“Make that six pieces of paper,” Liv said, getting herself set up at her desk that evening. She laid out two quills, in case one broke, and uncorked a bottle of ink. “I want to write to Emma, as well, and ask if she’d like to come hunting with us tomorrow. I’ll do that one first.”
“Emma, m’lady?” Thora asked, counting out the number carefully. Liv knew paper was expensive, but Master Grenfell had always kept her supplied with enough of it, and never mentioned the price.
“A friend,” Liv explained, while she wrote. “Probably my oldest friend, actually. She’s a hunter, like her father.” The note was short, and set aside quickly to dry. “Give that to someone who can run it down to the lower banks,” she instructed. “Tell them it goes to Master Forester’s house, please.”
The next letter she tackled was to Airis Ka Reimis, in Al'Fenthia, telling him that he was no longer obligated to keep her existence a secret, and that she considered that part of their bargain fulfilled. She made sure to tell him that she would visit in a decade, once she’d finished at Coral Bay, and that she looked forward to meeting his son.
After that, she wrote to Matthew and Triss at Coral Bay, asking after his recovery. In Triss’ letter, Liv made sure to point out that he’d need someone to knock him on the head when he was being an idiot. Since Liv wouldn’t be there to do it herself, that meant Triss would have to get the job done.
The letter to Sidonie Corbett was short. Liv made certain to thank her for her help before the duel, and say that she hoped to see the girl again. Of course, with Duchess Julianne and her husband essentially exiled from the capital, Liv had no idea when such a meeting could possibly happen. She made a mental note to ask someone just what the former baron’s title was, now. Surely not just Lord Henry?
The last letter was to Cade, and Liv agonized over it. She’d been stupid to kiss him, but it was done and it couldn’t be taken back. In the end, she simply wrote that she was happy to have met him, had enjoyed their time together, and would understand if he wanted to break off the arrangement they had. It would be a long time until she went to Coral Bay, after all, and there was every chance he’d meet someone else he liked in that time. She finished by telling him that she’d be happy to receive a letter if he wrote one, but that he shouldn’t feel obligated.
As Liv finished each letter, she set it aside for the ink to dry, and then gave the entire lot of them to Thora to have sent out. She knew that Henry kept a stock of pigeons, but also understood that none of her messages were urgent. More likely they’d go out with the drovers’ guild, or merchants moving south through the pass before the winter snows closed the valley off.
The next morning, Liv rose as soon as she felt sunlight in her eyes. She put on her hunting clothes, along with her winter cloak and the set of bracelet and rings she’d demanded from the princess. Thora put her hair in a quick braid to keep it out of the way, and then Liv grabbed her staff and set off down the stairs for the courtyard.
It was time to begin work on her wand.