The Sign of the Terrapin hadn’t changed much in the twelve years since the night that Liv and Matthew had fought off a group of drunks there. Without Matthew dragging her out to spend time at the Old Oak or the Laughing Carp, Liv didn’t feel much of an urge to be drinking in common rooms.
Someone had given the inn a new coat of paint, and freshened up the sign, but the cobblestones in the courtyard were looking a bit worn. In the bright autumn morning, Liv couldn’t see the warm flow of firelight shining out through the window panes, but two chimneys were trailing smoke up into the mountain sky, and she could taste burning wood on the air. Liv tied Steria up to the rail beside a mare and a gelding, then ducked beneath the painted sign depicting a turtle and headed inside.
Triss and Matthew were seated at one of the round tables, with trenchers piled high on the table in front of them, and mugs of ale. At a glance, Liv saw corn cakes drizzled with honey and melted butter, fried slices of apples, puffy clumps of scrambled eggs, and steak tips. “I should have skipped breakfast and eaten with you two,” she called out, striding across the room.
“Liv!” Triss jumped to her feet, dashed around the table and empty chairs, and threw her arms out. Laughing, Liv returned the hug.
“It’s good to see you too,” she said. “Letters aren’t quite the same.”
When she and Triss broke apart, it was Matthew’s turn, and Liv shrieked when he not only gave her a hug, but pulled her off her feet and spun her around twice before putting her back down.
“You look ready for Coral Bay,” Matthew said, once he’d released her. “Is that a new wand?”
“Not quite new, now,” Liv said, patting the length of polished bone hanging from her belt. “We made it after everything that happened at Freeport. Your mother’s going to give you grief for not coming back to see her when your fourth year was finished.”
“The plan is to distract her with a wedding,” Matthew admitted. “Here, grab a seat while we finish up.”
Liv couldn’t help but look the two of them over while the trenchers were scraped bare. Triss gave her a few slices of apple to taste, which was nice. They were gooey and sweet, perfectly done, but they couldn’t distract her from thinking how much her friends had changed over the years.
There were the scars, for one thing. Thin white lines, for the most part, that showed they’d been treated properly and healed clean - a few on Triss’ hands and lower arms, and one quite prominent on Matthew’s cheek. Combined with their arms and armor, the traces of old wounds made what they’d spent their time doing clear to anyone who cared to look.
Matthew wore a jack of plate in a deep, forest green, so that his linen shirt beneath brought to mind Summerset colors without anything so obvious as embroidered heraldry. The armor was obviously well used, with its own collection of scratches, stains, and general wear and tear.
Triss, on the other hand, wore a double layered fencing doublet of deep red, nearly the color of wine, with a triple buckled leather cincher around her waist that covered the entire belly, from just below her bust. While Matthew’s boots ended just beneath his knees, Triss’ went up to her thighs, but were of soft leather that could easily be rolled down.
Liv picked out Vædic sigils embroidered on fabric, or stamped into leather, all over the both of them. It didn’t take much to guess that if either of the two drew their rapier, she would see enchantments etched into the steel, as well. She itched to ask what all the magic did, but there would be plenty of time for that on the ride back to Whitehill.
As soon as he’d cleared his plate, Matthew stood. “I’ll settle up for breakfast and the room,” he said, and walked over to the bar.
“Room, singular?” Liv asked, leaning forward over the table.
“Don’t tell his mother,” Triss requested, with a hint of blush in her cheeks. “I know what the tradition is, but we’ve been roaming around the countryside for years together at this point. And at college - well, you’ll see once you get there,” she left off. “I daresay more than a few parents would be properly scandalized if they knew everything that went on. You’ll be leaving just after the wedding?”
Liv nodded, swallowing the last of her apple slices. “I’ve been waiting for it so long, it almost doesn’t seem real to finally be going. I only wish I could have done it earlier, with you and Matthew. Cade will be there, though, and Sidonie.”
“Don’t worry about it too much,” Triss said. “There’ll be fifty or sixty others just getting there with you. One or two of them are bound to be worth keeping!” She laughed, pushed her chair back, and stood up. “All set, love?”
Matthew walked past Liv, slipped an arm around Triss’ waist, and kissed her on the cheek. “Paid up, and he assured me the horses had their oats early this morning. We’re ready to leave.”
“Is that all I get?” Triss complained. “Just one on the cheek?”
“I’m trying not to shock my sister before the wedding,” Matthew said, laughing. “Come along, ladies.”
Liv followed them out of the inn, trying to imagine what it would be like to feel so easy and relaxed with a man. Emma had told her that when you’d found the right person, you’d just know, but Liv had never felt anything like that. Triss had said things were different at Coral Bay - would Cade expect to just kiss her, whenever he felt like it? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Thankfully, she was able to shove those thoughts away once they were all in the saddle. The two horses tied up next to Steria did indeed belong to Matthew and Triss, and Liv could see that the saddlebags were absolutely stuffed, once Matthew had them secured. Still, it didn’t seem like a lot to be travelling the country with. Nothing like the great trunks of clothing they’d all brought to Freeport when they went, or the packing that Thora had been seeing to for days now.
There was no need to push the horses, so they rode close to each other and chatted on the way north to Fairford. “What’s the far north like, then?” Matthew asked Liv. “You said you’d been to visit your father’s family in your letters. I wish I’d been able to stay in Freeport long enough to meet him.”
“It’s a different world,” Liv said. “No trees anywhere, Matthew, as far as you can see. Just endless plains of ice and snow. There’s nothing to break the wind, and it comes howling in like it would bowl you over. But it's beautiful, at the same time. I want to go in winter; I’ve only ever been during the bright nights, when the sun never sets. But everyone tells me that at night, the stars are painted with colored lights - blue, green, and purple. I want to see that.” She shrugged, and laughed. “After college. How about you two? Where have you been?”
“Mostly around Lucania,” Triss said. “We stopped by Valegard on our way here, and my parents won’t be far behind us. A few days, maybe.”
“Before that, we were helping at rifts, here and there,” Matthew said. “Mostly in the kingdom, but we did answer a call from Lendh ka Dakruim once. Talk about a whole other world, Liv, you should see that place. There are these massive creatures they call haathee, all gray, with a kind of trunk they use to eat-”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
A sudden brightness from the north made Liv squint. She couldn’t help but shiver when she saw a column of light connect the summit of Bald Peak with the ring in the sky above. “No,” Liv heard herself say. “It’s too early.”
“How often does it erupt?” Triss asked, all humor gone from her voice. “Twenty years?”
“Twenty-five,” Matthew said. “This is a year early. We need to go.” He kicked his gelding into a gallop, and both Liv and Triss followed. They didn’t slow at Fairford, taking the old way across the stony shallows, rather than risk trampling anyone on the newer bridge. By the time they reached Whitehill, the horses were glistening with lather.
☙
Everything felt both hauntingly familiar, and yet changed in a terrifying way, all at once. By the time the three of them had handed the horses off to a pair of wide-eyed stableboys, and then made it into the great hall, Liv saw that half a dozen of the knights who kept manors in the city had already gathered.
Baron Henry’s wheeled chair was at the high table, and Duchess Julianne was with him, as well as Master Grenfell and Mistress Trafford. Someone must have sent for Emma and her father, for they’d come, as well.
The part that really stuck out to Liv was just how much older everyone was. During the eruption when she’d been a girl, both Baron Henry and Julianne had been young and vital. Master Forester had a bit of salt in his hair and beard, but he’d been a confident, fit man - the best hunter in the valley. Even Master Grenfell, who’d always been more of a scholar than a warrior, had moved easily then.
Now, Henry was crippled. Twenty-four years of being unable to walk, to run, or to fight have left him with a lot of extra weight, and it showed in his face. He was swiftly approaching sixty, and Liv had heard Mistress Trafford speaking with the duchess about the possibility of amputating his feet: he had sores that wouldn’t heal.
Master Grenfell was even older, though Liv had never asked his exact age. Long use of mana had kept him more vital than might otherwise be expected, but it had also ravaged the skin of his arms and hands: it seemed like he nearly always had bandages on one arm or the other, now, and Mistress Trafford had told Liv that the mana-sickness never really went away anymore. His hair had long since lost its color, and was thinning.
Kale Forester had dealt with age by simply shaving his head bare and letting his beard grow massive and white. To Liv’s eyes, he appeared strangely shrunken: all the muscle he’d once carried had withered away as the years went on. Three years ago he’d stopped hunting entirely, sold his home, and moved into the rooms above the forge with Emma and Dustin.
None of them looked like they should be fighting their way into the shoals of the rift.
“Matthew,” Julianne exclaimed, coming around the high table to throw her arms around her son. “Thank the trinity you made it back before the beasts came.”
“We saw the flare of the eruption while we were just south of Fairford, and rode hard,” her son said. Julianne released him after a moment, then embraced Triss as well.
“Might be a brief delay of the wedding,” Triss told her.
Julianne laughed. “Yes, I expect so. I’ll send a knight and a few guards south to wait for your parents at the pass, to make sure they get here safely.”
“They’ll have their own men, but they won’t know the area as well, so I appreciate it,” Triss said. The two women let each other go, and then everyone gathered about the high table, where a map of the valley had been spread.
“Is my father back?” Liv asked.
Henry shook his head. “And I don’t know whether he’ll be able to make it, now,” the baron admitted. “During an eruption, the shoals push out far enough to encompass the waystone.”
“Nothing at a minor rift will stop him when he comes,” Liv said confidently. “But it would have been nice to have him here for the fighting.”
“It would have,” Julianne admitted. “I’ll lead the culling team to the rift, while Henry holds command here.”
“No,” Liv interrupted. When everyone looked at her, she managed to hold her ground, but she still felt a blush creeping over her cheeks at the attention. Someday, it would be nice if her face could keep from showing every little thing she felt. “No offense, Your Grace,” she continued, using Julianne’s formal mode of address. “But none of you have any business culling a rift anymore.”
“I understand that you’re trying to help, Liv,” Julianne said, “but you’ve never actually culled a rift during an eruption.”
“But Triss and I have,” Matthew said. “Plenty, over the past few years. Triss is recognized by the guild as able to take command of a culling, depending on seniority, and if I’d joined I would be as well. No one doubts you’ve got plenty of power, mother, but it’s been ages since you had to use it. Father can’t go. Master Grenfell, you were never a fighter. Master Forester, can you even draw that old bow any longer?”
“We’re not saying this to be cruel,” Triss said. “But we all know who the team is going to be.”
“I hope you’re counting my name on that list,” Emma said, speaking up for the first time.
“Emma, you’ve got a child who’s barely five,” Liv broke in. “You should stay behind.”
“I’m still a better shot than anyone else in the valley,” Emma said. “Even if I only show it on market days. Three people aren’t enough to be safe.”
“On that, she’s correct,” Mistress Trafford said. “I’ll be going with you, to dress wounds. We want enough knights and guards to protect the camp, as well.”
“If Master Grenfell can give me enough bags of mana-dust, I’ll see to that,” Liv said.
“You’ll have everything in the stores,” her old teacher promised. “And the largest stone, as well. You know the one. You’ll need every bit of stored mana you can bring.”
Liv scanned the room, and found that Thora had made her way in, and was hovering by the wall in case she was needed. “Go and tell my mother to pack every bit of mana-enriched food fit to travel,” she ordered. “Flasks of broth, dried jerky, everything. We want it all.”
“You know that I am actually the one in command here,” Julianne said, frowning.
“You are,” her son said, with a nod. “Which is why we also know you’ll make the best choice for the survival of the town.”
Julianne was silent for a long moment, and Liv thought she looked like she’d just had a bite of something particularly unpleasant. “Fine. Matthew, as my heir, you have command of the culling team. You’ll take Beatrice, Liv, Emma, and Amelia with you. Sir Anselm, Sir Gervase, and Sir Randel will each command two castle guards. That will give you enough for three shifts to keep watch on your camp. That makes fourteen. Those of us who have grown too old to go will deal with anything that gets to the walls.”
“We’ll depart as soon as everyone is assembled,” Matthew said. “Saddlebags only, no wagons or carriages. You can send whatever doesn't fit up the road in a wagon behind us.”
“It’s decided, then. At least no one’s pregnant, this time,” Julianne muttered. “Liv, please come up to my sitting room with me.”
Liv frowned, but followed the duchess out of the hall and upstairs. It wasn’t until the door had been closed behind them, and Julianne had crossed to her desk, that she began to speak. “I realize now that I made a mistake in ever asking for these papers,” the duchess said. She opened a drawer, flipped through a sheaf, and pulled out something that Liv hadn’t seen in years - an order of adoption, marked with the seal of the king. The last they’d heard, Julianne’s father no longer stirred from his bed, and Prince Benedict had the run of the kingdom. But the decree was still valid.
“I know you have your father’s family, now,” Julianne said, turning to face Liv with the order in hand. “And, ironically, our positions are reversed. I have only a single heir, and he is about to dive into a rift. If Matthew dies, Liv, I have no one else. I am no longer asking you to sign this to protect you, or to give you a family. I am begging you to sign it so that, if the worst happens, there is someone who can protect Whitehill when Henry and I are gone.”
She thrust the paper at Liv.
“I’ve said before I’m grateful,” Liv began.
“It’s no longer about you,” Julianne interrupted her. “It’s about what comes when Benedict is crowned. I can’t be the deterrent I used to be,” she admitted, with a bitter laugh. “As my son has made quite clear, the days that everyone feared my magic are passing. I couldn’t have another child now even if I took another husband. Name your price, Liv. What do I have to do, for you to sign this?”
Liv looked to the window, where the mountains lay green beneath the brilliant blue sky. “I do love this place,” she said, finally, and turned back to Julianne. “I won’t take your name. If you wish to name me second in line after Matthew, it will be as Livara Tär Valtteri, not Liv Summerset. And you will keep the decree secret. If it's never needed, then no one will ever know.”
“Done,” Julianne agreed.
“And you will teach me Luc,” Liv finished.
“If Benedict ever finds out-”
“He’s already our enemy. If it has to come out in the open, at least I’ll have the magic to stand up to him,” Liv said.
“Alright, then.” Julianne turned back to the desk, set the decree down, and uncorked a bottle of ink.
Liv accepted a quill from the duchess, dipped it in the bottle, and signed her name.