Liv had entirely forgotten that Triss had brought her fabric for a new dress, with blue trim to match the gown the bride would wear to the ceremony. The dressmaker’s shop on The Hill had apparently been working through the eruption, however, or perhaps only in the days since. Liv couldn’t be certain, but the end result was that she, Triss’ mother, and the bride herself were all arranged to match before the procession departed for the temple of the trinity.
Triss’ mother was a wide woman with the unfortunate name of Agneta. “My hips aren’t what they used to be,” she told the two of them when she dropped a comb on the floor. “Be a dear and get that for me, Livy.”
“Here you are, Lady Crosbie,” Liv said, fetching the comb. They had Thora, of course, to help them get ready, as well as a severe woman named Lovota, who was lady’s maid to Triss’ mother. Triss had apparently released her own maid from service the first chance she got, when she left Coral Bay.
“Which only means you’ll have to hire someone new, Beatrice,” Agneta scolded her daughter. “Out of eight children, my only girl, and half her life I was convinced she wanted to be a boy. I tell you, I despaired of this day ever coming!”
Through all of this, Liv observed that her friend could only grit her teeth. Triss looked like a beaver-dam that was about to give way during the spring flood, and rather than see the morning ruined with an argument, Liv took it on herself to distract the older woman. “You know, Lady Crosbie,” she ventured, “the kitchen staff put a pot of tea on for us, and a few tarts, down the hall in the Old Baron’s collection. It’s going to be quite a while, between the procession and the ceremony, before the wedding feast begins. I’m a bit worried Beatrice will faint, as I didn’t see her eat much at breakfast.”
“I like this one,” Lady Crosbie said, and patted Liv on the cheek. “Good thinking, Liv. Lovota, come along with me and let’s bring a few plates back.”
The moment the door to Liv’s sitting room had closed behind them, Triss threw herself down on the cushioned bench and gave a muffled scream of frustration. “I’d forgotten how maddening she is!”
“Enjoy your moment of peace; I don’t think I’ve distracted them for long,” Liv said.
“Do you think I could just climb out the window?” Triss asked. “Grab Matthew, and the two of us could just ride a horse over and get it done without all the nonsense.”
“It’s a nice idea,” Liv admitted. “But I also think one day of nonsense isn’t much, in the end. If you can stab monsters to death while half-dumb from a head wound, I think you can survive this.”
“So long as you don’t abandon me,” Triss begged. “She’s on her best behavior because you’re here.”
“This is her best behavior?” Liv exclaimed, but immediately had to put on a smile when the door opened, to reveal Lady Crosbie and her maid bringing in plates heaped with tarts.
☙
Eventually, the Crosbie half of the procession was dressed and assembled.
Baron Arnold had brought three carriages north through the pass, and all of them were decorated with streaming lengths of ribbon in black and red silk. They must have come all the way from Lendh ka Dakruim, Liv thought, and wondered just how much Triss’ parents had paid for them.
If Triss really did have seven older brothers, only four had been permitted to come, while the others remained in Valegard. Their names had slipped right back out of Liv’s mind the moment she’d been introduced, save for one: a short, stocky fellow called Bliant. Between he and Lady Crosbie, Liv wondered whether horrid names were a family tradition.
Triss was maneuvered into the first carriage, with her father and mother, and she clung to Liv’s arm with such an iron grip that no one objected when the two of them sat together. The four brothers took the second carriage, while servants filled the third, and half a dozen knights in scarlet and black jack of plate rode alongside.
The streets were crowded: a wedding was always a community event, but the marriage of the heir to the duchy was in effect a public holiday. From glances out the carriage window, Liv could see that the only shops open were those selling food or drink along the route of the procession. Market stalls had been brought over and set up, as well, as if an entire fair day had been transplanted to line the route between Castle Whitehill and the temple. Liv saw hot cider and mulled wine, fresh baked pies, smoked brisket, and dozens of other treats changing hands for a few coppers. She decided to make it a point to introduce Triss’ family to Whitehill steak sauce.
The inside of the temple was packed so tightly that only a narrow aisle up the center was clear: there were no seats, and everyone stood shoulder to shoulder. Osric Fletcher stood at the front by the altar, with Matthew and his father and mother waiting. They were all dressed in green and white, the colors of the Summerset heraldry, and even with his sleeve pinned up Matthew managed to look quite gallant.
Once they’d reached the altar, Liv took her place behind Triss, at the back, and let the ritual words wash over her as she glanced over the crowd. There were so many familiar faces: her father had come, she noticed, and stood with Master Grenfell and Mistress Trafford, but nearby Liv saw her mother and Gretta, as well, and even Archibald. She knew they’d be hurrying back to the kitchens as soon as the ceremony was done, but for now Duchess Julianne had insisted everyone attend.
There was Emma with her family, and Liv recognized many of the knights and castle guards she’d known over the years. Master Gaunt the bookseller was there, and Mistress Joan who’d cut and polished the mana-stone in the pommel of Liv’s wand. Even an aged Big Whit, whose farm Liv had once scoured clean of a blood-monster, could be seen looming head and shoulders above his neighbors at the back of the crowd.
“...and today, we seek the blessing of the Lady of Changes on this couple,” Osric Fletcher continued. “To take a partner in marriage is to look upon a vast and stormy sea in the distance, and to chart a course regardless. Time alters all of us. The youth that you see before you will fade, and beauty does not last. You will know times of trouble and sickness - but you will also know times of joy and love. None of us can see what Sitia holds in store for our future, but today you vow to share what comes, nonetheless.”
The words were familiar: the same spoken for Emma’s wedding, a few years before. Liv’s eyes flicked back to her mother, and for a moment she wondered what her parents would have looked like, standing before the altar of the trinity, speaking their own vows.
It wasn’t the Elden way, Liv knew. To promise the entirety of a life to a single person. She wondered how anyone could. There was so much that could happen, so much that could change, that it seemed almost arrogant to declare that no matter what came, you’d have only a single man or woman for the rest of your existence. She looked at Baron Henry, sitting in his wheeled chair, and Matthew, with his lost arm, and wondered whether Julianne ever regretted her own vows.
By the time Liv had roused herself from her own thoughts, the priest was finishing. If Matthew and Triss had any misgivings, she couldn’t see it from their faces: both were grinning wider than Liv had ever seen before.
☙
The feast felt as much like a farewell as a celebration. Liv would be leaving on the second day after the wedding, and Thora had already packed most of her things. The great hall of Castle Whitehill was loud and hot with the press of bodies: every one of Henry or Arnold’s knights who could be present had brought their wives and children. The mayor was present, and the sheriff.
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Liv was still given a place at the high table, and her father as an honored guest, but Master Grenfell and Mistress Trafford had been relocated to make room for Triss’ parents and brothers. The wine flowed freely, and a corner had been cleared to make room for a wooden dais. There, a succession of musicians performed during the feast.
Whitehill wasn’t large enough for the castle to employ anyone on a permanent basis, so the same farmers and miners who played for coppers each market day had been invited to entertain the feast. For most of them, it was the only time they’d ever spend among so many knights and higher nobles.
Triss made certain to drag Liv out, once she’d had a few cups of wine, to spin around together. It reminded her of the nights in Freeport they’d spent at The Black Horse, drinking entirely too much in the company of Captain Athearn’s sailors. This time, at least, there was no assassination attempt. Instead, the crowd steadily dwindled as the night went on, with guests slipping off alone or in pairs.
When Matthew and Triss went, it was to a round of cheers and rude suggestions, which the bride took in stride, shouting back rejoiners just as ribald. Matthew finally managed to drag her out and close the door behind them, and once Liv managed to stop laughing, she found Duchess Julianne leaning over her shoulder.
“Tomorrow, we’re heading up Deer Peak bright and early,” she said, and Liv nodded. She thought she had a pretty good idea of the reason for an expedition, and once she had it on her mind, it was hard to get back into the spirit of the feast. Not long after, Liv made her own excuses and headed up to her rooms.
☙
They rode up the slopes after a quick breakfast, wrapped in cloaks to keep the brisk air of late-harvest at bay. Liv could have used a bit of magic, just to produce enough heat to keep herself comfortable, but she wasn’t certain precisely what Julianne would be asking her to do. She’d brought her wand, and she wore not only her guild ring, but also the set of gold bracelet and rings that she’d won off Princess Milisant.
They tied the horses to the branch of an aspen tree, right near the spot where Liv had practiced her magic by sliding down the mountain with Emma and Master Grenfell.
“Have a seat,” Julianne said. They both arranged their skirts beneath them, and settled on a patch of grass that had already lost its green color for the winter. “You know that almost no one comes to a word of power like you did. We pass them down from parent to child, yes, but for nearly everyone imprinting is a deliberate thing.”
“I get the impression that’s mostly the same in the north,” Liv said. “But also that people with a lot of Vædic ancestry sometimes go through what I did. I think it’s just because there’s so many more generations removed, in the south.”
“Among humans, you mean,” Julianne said. “I don’t know how your father’s people would do this. If you decide to remain in the guild, they’ll do the same thing to teach you Aluth as what I do today.”
“What do I have to do?” Liv asked.
“Nothing except lean your head forward,” Julianne told her, “and try to relax.” The older woman gripped Liv’s head between both her hands, digging her fingers beneath the hair to make contact with the scalp. “Dō Luc,” the duchess intoned.
For a moment, Liv was afraid that it hadn’t worked, because she felt nothing happening. Perhaps something about her Elden heritage made her different, as it had in so many other ways. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to learn magic like humans could, and they would need her father’s help. Would she even be able to go to college at all?
Mana seared through Liv’s head, and she screamed. Her world was burnt white, smoke filled her nose, and she couldn’t move. Every muscle in her body tensed. Then, she felt nothing, as if her body was once again very far away, as it had been when she experienced her vision of Varuna.
She was the rumbling of the clouds, a kind of building pressure that demanded release, escape, something. To lash out. When the moment finally came, Liv shot down to the earth below, always seeking, seeking, until she found a tall pine. Striking it was a relief: blasting the wood, leaving it smoking and blackened, left her limp and exhausted, the same feeling one got when lying down after a long, hard day.
Over and over, Liv fell from the clouds: onto a beach of white sand, where she fused everything she struck into glass. At sea, where there was nothing but the roiling waves. Onto a city, where the tallest towers and steeples were adorned with wonderful iron spikes, to catch her as she fell.
Finally, she came back to herself, and found that Julianne’s fingers were gently massaging her head.
“I’m sorry that it hurts,” the duchess murmured. “It is not a gentle word.”
Liv moaned: her head ached, but Julianne’s cool fingers felt good. “Should I try it, then?” she asked.
“That’s why we came up here,” the duchess said. “I think you’ve more than enough knowledge of Vædic grammar to make an attempt. I don’t want you to be disappointed, though. I doubt this word will come as easily as the first.”
“Lucet Co Derua,” Liv intoned, thrusting her wand out toward a half-dead aspen tree on the other side of the summit. She could feel the lightning gathering in the clouds above, bouncing between the tiniest bits of ice, but this time she was not restricted to simply building up pressure until it burst.
A brilliant, purple-white bolt fell from the heavens, splitting the tree in two and leaving the halves of the trunk burning.
“Good,” Julianne said. “Now perhaps you might use a bit of ice to put it out before we have a forest fire on our hands.”
☙
The next morning, after Thora had finished dressing her, Liv found Wren waiting in the hall outside her room, wearing her hunting leathers and armed with the bow, quiver and skinning knives that had been taken from her after the eruption.
“Come to say farewell?” Liv asked. Thora hurried past down the hall: the maid had plenty to do in organizing the transportation of all their things.
Wren shook her head. “The Duchess has given me my first task,” she said, motioning for Liv to continue down the hall toward the stairs. “To keep you alive over the next four years.”
“So what, you’re my bodyguard?” Liv asked.
Wren nodded. “With everything I’ve told them, she said she doesn’t trust there won’t be more trouble in the near future. I think if she could’ve found an excuse to send you with half a dozen guards, she would have.”
When they reached the courtyard, where a single carriage waited, Liv was surprised to see a crowd nearly as large as the one at the wedding feast. Steria was tied to the back of the wagon with a lead, and the oddly wrapped package strapped to the roof could only be the gigantic casque she’d taken from the bat beneath the mines.
“I’ll be just a step behind you,” Wren murmured, then dropped back to match her words.
The guards who’d gone with Liv to the eruption were first: Piers and Tobias, of course, but also the knights, even Sir Randel, who’d given her so much trouble. They said their farewells in turn, and Liv found herself embracing Emma and her father, and even taking a moment to tickle the baby’s cheek.
Archibald shook Liv’s hand, while the newer maids and footmen simply wished her safe travels. Warin, the miner she’d dragged down the mountain, had come to see her off, with a crutch under his arm. Mistress Trafford gave her an unexpected hug, while Master Grenfell presented Liv with a new copy of Blackwood’s Bestiary.
“I ordered it in the spring,” he said. “Can’t send you along with just that ancient copy you had.” Liv thanked him, tucked the book under her arm, and then found herself caught up and squeezed by first Triss, then Matthew.
“Look out for yourself, and don’t get in too much trouble,” Matthew told her.
“You’re one to talk,” Liv joked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep him busy here,” Triss said, grinning and elbowing Liv. They parted to make way for Baron Henry and Duchess Julianne. Liv shook the baron’s hand, but Julianne caught her in another hug.
“Your rooms are waiting at the High Hall,” Julianne told her. “I’ve made certain you have a large enough suite for your things and your servants.” She winked at that, and Liv understood that Wren was to be passed off as some sort of maid or other. “Make certain you write. And only practice what I taught you where you can be certain no one will find out.”
Liv nodded, and then ended up in Gretta’s arms.
“Goodbye, my dove,” the old cook said, and Liv could see that she was crying.
“I’ll be back,” Liv assured her. “It’s only four years.”
“Aye, only four years,” Gretta said. “I’ll see you soon, Livy. Now go say farewell to your parents.”
Liv’s mother and father were standing just before the carriage, with just a bit of distance between them.
“Try not to pick up any bad habits from the human professors,” Valtteri told her. “I won’t be travelling that far south, but when you’ve finished, come and find us at Kelthelis.” Liv nodded, and then her father stepped aside.
“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said, and they each wrapped the other in an embrace. “Make sure you eat well down there in the south. Gretta and I packed you a bit of food for the journey.”
“Thank you.” Liv knew that using the waystone she’d hardly be on the road long enough to eat anything, but she smiled anyway. She put a foot on the running board, then turned back once, and waved. Then, before anyone could see that she was crying, Liv settled herself on the carriage bench and pulled the door closed.
The driver urged the team of horses into motion, and the wagon rolled out of Castle Whitehill, then down into the streets of The Hill. Beyond lay the Aspen Valley, and the mine-road north to the Waystone.
Liv watched out the windows the entire way, and both Thora and Wren gave her the gift of silence. She tried to set the image of the mountains in her mind, so that she’d never forget them.