Guild Mage: Apprentice

"Come to the table before your food gets cold, Liv," the old woman told her. "This will all still be here after you’ve had a bite."

"Are you sure it’s alright?" Liv asked. "I won’t be in any trouble?"

"None, dear," Gretta assured her. "Now come wash all that gunk off your hands before you sit down." There was a bowl of beet stew waiting for her, stuffed full of garlic, celery, onions and carrots, as well as two slices from a fresh loaf of brown bread, and watered wine to drink. Liv was grateful that no one spoke to her until she was using a scrap of bread to sop up the last of the broth from her bowl.

"How did you find your lessons?" Archibald asked her. He’d long since finished his own meal, and was sipping the dregs of his wine.

Liv didn’t want to tell anyone how horrible the two older girls had been; there was nothing any of them could do, anyway, and she didn’t want to seem like she was whining. "I started to learn about grammar," she said. That seemed safe enough. "And how to breathe properly. And then we went to look at the stone-bat, and Master Grenfell told us about why it has those things poking out of its body - like the casque on its head. Have you ever seen it?" she asked, looking around the table. That had been worth holding her tongue through everything Mirabel and Griselda did.

Gretta, and Sophie all shook their heads, but First Footman Archibald did not. "I have, in fact," he said. "As has Tom. The footmen are entrusted with airing the room out and keeping it in order. Or at least," he said, "we were. We shall have to see whether anything changes after last evening’s unpleasantness. But I believe we are all glad to hear that you are doing well."

"Thank you," Liv said. For a moment, she almost asked about the sheriff, but she didn’t want to make it anyone else’s problem. In the past day she’d already caused enough trouble for an entire year. She stood, and lifted her own bowl and cup, tucking them under one arm so that she could use her crutch. "I have a lot of work to do in the scullery," she said. "If you’ll excuse me." Archibald nodded, and Liv made her escape.

For as hard as she had to work in the scullery, it was also a place that was safe and familiar. Other than to drop off dirty dishes, no one came in to bother her. Liv scrubbed her way through everything dirtied not only by the morning’s cooking, but also the midday meal both upstairs and down. On a normal day, she would have time to herself between the second bell of the afternoon and the third, but she was so far behind that she had to keep right on working. Liv only stopped when Tom knocked on the door.

"Someone’s here to see you, Livy," he said, then turned to walk away. He had his own duties to attend to, she knew.

Carefully, Liv set aside the wine goblet she’d been cleaning, rinsed her hands, and reached for her crutch. Surely he would have said ’the sheriff is here for you,’ wouldn’t he, instead of just someone? If it wasn’t the sheriff, though, who else could it be?

There was a door directly out of the kitchen to the courtyard, so that Mama or Gretta could receive deliveries, or for Tom, Sophie or Liv to take out rubbish. Liv put her hand on the door, but couldn’t bring herself to open it for a long moment. She couldn’t breathe, and had to close her eyes. The sheriff wouldn’t come around to the kitchen door, anyway, she knew. She was being silly. Taking a deep breath, Liv opened the door, and blinked at the cold winter wind that immediately struck her in the face.

The man waiting outside had a great beard and mustaches in which snow and ice had already accumulated, and a heavy, hooded cloak of dark wool. Thick fur lining peaked out from beneath the hood, or whenever the cloak billowed in the wind. His boots were of good leather, as well, and he even wore gloves, which Mama had never quite been able to justify spending silver suns to get. Rather than the man, however, Liv couldn’t help but look down at the massive buck resting on the ground at his feet.

"You are Liv Brodbeck?" the man asked her, his voice rough as if he didn’t use it often.

"Yes, sir," Liv said, doing her best to curtsy despite her crutch.

"This is for you, then," the bearded man said. "I’ve drained it and gutted it already."

Liv blinked, looked down at the deer, then back up at the man. She opened her mouth once, closed it again, and then finally managed to ask, "Who are you, sir?"

"Kale Forester," the man answered. "You saved my little girl, yesterday. Emma. Thank you."

"Oh!" Liv exhaled. Not the sheriff. Despite everything she’d told herself, only now could she actually relax. "She’s alright, then? I can hardly remember what happened, but I was very frightened for her."

"She is now," Forester assured her. "Because of what you did. I should have been watching her more closely," he admitted. "If you hadn’t seen her go under - I can’t even think about it." The man coughed into his glove, clearing his throat. "So. This is for you. You can do what you like with it - sell the meat, cook it."

"Thank you, sir," Liv said. The carcass was massive, with two sets of antlers coming off the head that reminded her of the stone-bat’s casque. Instead of a small ’v’ shape, however, the antlers branched out again and again, finally ending in a spread of at least ten points between the entire rack. "You didn’t have to, you know?" Liv continued. "I just did what anyone would have. I only happened to be watching her skate, because Mama was talking to someone."

"A man pays his debts," the hunter said. "You saved my daughter’s life, Miss Brodbeck. And that is a debt that I can never repay. This isn’t much, but please - accept it as a gift."

"Of course she will," Mama said, coming up behind her. Liv leaned back into her mother with relief; now that Mama was here, she wouldn’t have to talk. "Thank you, Master Forester."

"No master here," the man said, smiling beneath his mustaches. "Just a man trying to do right. You’re the girl’s mother?"

"Margaret Brodbeck, yes."

"I’ll trust you to see to this, then," Forester said. "Unless - little girl. Liv. You like ice skating?"

"I’ve never tried," Liv admitted. "But I would like to, someday." If her mother ever allowed it.

"Let me take the horns, then," the hunter said, after considering a moment. "I will make you skates from them, like my daughter’s. Would you like that?"

Before her mother could say no, Liv grinned and nodded her head. "I would! Thank you, Master Forester."

"More excited about the skates than the meat," the man said, drawing a hunting knife from his belt. "I should have expected that. I’ll have these off in a moment. Where do you want the carcass, Mistress Brodbeck?"

"Only ’miss," Mama corrected him. "I’ve no husband. Bring it along inside, we’ll put it in the cold cellar. Gretta and I will cut up some good venison steaks, Liv, how does that sound for a special dinner? Run along back to your work, now."

By the time the antlers had been removed, the buck put into storage, and the woodsman gone, Liv was just finishing up the midday dishes. She thought it just as well that Master Forester left without speaking any further, because Liv didn’t know what to say to him in any event. She’d never had an adult thank her, truly thank her, for something so important before. She was looking forward to the skates, however, and wondered how long it would take before they were done.

The rest of the day settled back into the routine that had made up Liv’s life for as long as she could remember. Once she was caught up in the scullery, she helped Mama and Gretta in the kitchen. They’d cut beautiful steaks from the buck, and Liv was immediately set to mincing garlic and rosemary. Once she was done with that, she was sent to haul jars of blackberry preserves, gathered from the mountain slopes, up from the cold cellar.

"Stir this, my dove," Mama told her when she’d finished. Liv took the handle of a wooden spoon from her mother, and kept the onions in the buttered skillet from burning. Once they were done, she held a platter while Gretta scooped the onions out, and then sat down to watch the two women begin searing the steaks in the same pan.

With the smells of cooking filling the kitchen, and the hearth warming the room, Liv set her crutch aside and simply watched for a few moments. Despite everything that had happened, and her lingering worries about the sheriff, for a little while everything felt safe, warm and familiar.

At dinner, everyone praised the venison; when Archibald and Tom came downstairs from serving, they brought the compliments of Baron Henry and his wife. "Lady Julianne, in particular, wanted to pass her thanks along," the first footman told Liv. "She wanted you to know that she appreciates you sharing your gift with the entire household."

Liv felt her face get hot, so she looked down at her trencher and sliced off a piece of venison so tender she felt like it was melting on her tongue.

"I don’t know what else she was going to do with it," Sophie groused. "It’s not as if she could butcher it, cook it and eat it all herself."

"That will be enough, Sophie," the first footman said.

By the time Liv was finished cleaning all of the evening’s dishes, she was more than ready to curl up in a nest of blankets. When she made her way to the room that she shared with her mother, however, she found half the clothes that had been stored there gone, and Mama waiting for her, seated on the bed.

"Come and have a seat, dove," her mother said, patting the bed next to her. Liv used the crutch to make her way over, set it down on the floor, and then plopped herself down.

"Where are all your things?" Liv asked. She found Rosie, pulled the rag doll to her chest and gave it a hug. "And where did you go last night?"

"I slept in one of the empty rooms," Mama said. "Gretta helped me find clean linens and make the bed. And I had Tom help me move my things over tonight while you were cleaning the dishes."

"Why?" Liv asked. "I woke up all alone."

"Is that why you poked your head out when you heard someone in the hall?" her mother asked, and Liv nodded her head. "See, I know you, my love. I slept in another bed because I wanted you to have room to stretch out your leg," she explained. "Without anything bumping that plastered up ankle. But this has been coming for a while, dove."

Liv shook her head. "It was cold. You should come back tonight."

"You have plenty of blankets and furs, and look," Mama said. "Here comes Charlie." The black mouser crossed half the room, then paused to stretch before leaping up onto the bed.

"I don’t want to sleep alone," Liv said.

"I know, love," Mama said. "But it’s time for you to have your own room. You’re going to need more room, once you start having books that you need to read, or - I don’t even know what. Magic rocks, and what have you. Skates, in a few days." She gently nudged Liv with her elbow.

"The other girls in the class aren’t very nice," Liv said.

"No, I expect they wouldn’t be," her mother agreed. "People like them don’t want to mix with people like us, and they get upset when they have to."

"The baron’s wife was nice, though," Liv pointed out. "She wasn’t mean." She hesitated: past experience had taught her that asking this question was not going to make her mother happy. But she had to know. "Lady Julianne said my father gave me my magic."

Mama stiffened against her body. "Yes," she said, after a long silence. "I expect that is true. It certainly didn’t come from me. My parents had no noble blood, nor theirs, as far back as they ever told me about. But your father did. He had hair like yours, too - and your eyes. He was beautiful, like you."

"Will you tell me about him?" Already, this was more than Liv had ever heard from her mother before. She expected the answer to be no.

"He had a wonderful voice," Mama said. "That’s how we met, actually. He was exploring the gardens, and he heard me singing. I never thought I was a great beauty, dove, but I was young then. I suppose I was pretty enough. And he was sad. Very sad."

"Why was he sad?" Liv asked.

"Because his sister had died," Mama said. "It was the reason his father sent him south. To distract him. I am certain he was not supposed to find a human woman to sing with him and give him a big hug when he needed it." She reached over and wrapped her arms around Liv and gave a squeeze. "Like this."

Her father had been sad, and needed a hug. Liv felt closer to him than she’d ever felt before. "So he loved you?" she asked. "Did he love me?"

"He never knew about you," her mother said. "He’d left by the time I knew, and they went back north a different way. But if he knew about you, I believe he would love you, yes."

"Can we tell him?" Liv thought about it. "We could write him a letter."

"No," her mother said, and shook her head. "I’m telling you these things now because I think you’re old enough to know at least some of the truth. You know - do you understand, my dove, that other girls are bigger than you at this age? You don’t look twelve."

"You said I’ve always been small," Live said, and shrugged.

"The Eld of the North live longer than humans do," Mama explained. "I didn’t understand at first - I thought your father was about the same age as I was. He looked young. When he told me he was over a hundred years old, I didn’t believe him at first. And then when you were born, you could almost be human. Just the tips of your ears, and your hair."

Liv squeezed Rosie hard and closed her eyes.

"It took longer for you to grow," Mama said. "For you to do most things. But you were always so smart, my dove. I don’t want you to ever feel badly about it. There isn’t anything wrong with you - you’re just different. It’s your father’s blood in you. You’ll get where they all are, it’s just going to take a little more time."

"Does that mean I’m going to live forever?" Liv asked.

"I don’t think anyone lives forever," Mama said, with a laugh. "Or your aunt wouldn’t have died. But I do think you’re going to live for a very long time. And when you’re old enough, I’ll tell you more about your father. I’ll tell you his name, and where he lives, and maybe you can even go and find him. How does that sound?"

"I like it here with you," Liv said. What would it even be like, to cross the mountains and go that far north? Would her father even want her? She might be too human.

"That’s good, my love," her mother said. "Because you need to stay for a while yet. You have a bit of growing to do, and you’re best doing it in your own room, from now on. But I will tell you one thing tonight," she said. "Like a promise, so you know that I’ll tell you the rest one day."

"What’s that?" Liv asked.

Her mother stood, and pulled back the blankets and furs. Liv crawled inside. With Rosie hugged to her chest, and Charlie curled up purring at her side, she thought that it might not be so bad to sleep alone.

"Your name," her mother said. "I named you for your aunt, my dove. The one who died. Livara. So that one day, when you find your father and tell him your name, he’ll know who you are, and that you’re telling the truth. Now go to sleep."

Livara. She rolled the name around in her mind, and tasted it, as she snuggled up against her pillow. For her entire life, she’d just been Liv Brodbeck, the cook’s bastard daughter. To think of herself as Livara, descended from the Eld of the North, was like something out of one of Gretta’s bedtime stories.

When she dreamed, Livara dreamed of a land over the mountains, where no human walked and everyone knew her name.