Guild Mage: Apprentice

"All the more reason to get to know them," her mother insisted. It was very odd, because any other time the castle was hosting guests, Liv knew that Mama would be hurrying about the kitchen as if her hair was on fire to make sure every part of the meal would be perfect. Lady Julianne had told her that when the way someone was acting wasn’t normal, it was time to pay attention. It might be important to find out why.

"Just come out with it, Mama," Liv said, kicking her shoes off and heading over to the closet where her clean dresses hung. "Tell me why."

Margaret Brodbeck sighed, walked over to Liv’s bed, and sat down on the stuffed mattress. "Do you remember why I’ve avoided telling you who your father is?" she asked.

"Because you’re afraid of something," Liv said, looking from one dress to the next. The outer fabric of both were dark gray, which would be appropriate for her to wear. It was only the choice of lining before her, really.

"Right now, no one is entirely certain whose daughter you are, and how you fit into the world of the Eld," Mama explained. "Outside of Whitehill and Master Jurian, I daresay most people don’t even know you exist. Even that pension from the king - scores of those are given out each year, as rewards. There is a kind of safety in not being known, and you need time, my love. Time to grow up."

Liv selected a dress, took it down, and carried it over to the bed, setting it down next to her mother. "Mama," she said. "I’ve never even seen one of my father’s people. I want to know what they look like, how they talk. Do they look like me? Or am I like a mule - neither horse, nor donkey?" She shrugged. "No one even knew what I needed to eat. What if I’d starved and died? What else do I need to know, that I don’t?"

"All those lessons," her mother grumbled. "There’s more to life than knowing things, my love. Some things are dangerous to know. It can be better to let them lie. Safer."

"This merchant won’t be here for me," Liv argued. "He’s here to buy the crop and take it north. He probably won’t even notice me."

"Oh, I think he’ll notice a half-Elden girl hiding away in a castle of humans," Mama remarked. "Here’s the thing about merchants, dove. They buy and sell things. He may be here to buy the crop, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be interested in making other bargains when he gets home. Information can fetch coin, sometimes even more than a wagon-load of grain."

"No one would care enough to pay to hear about me," Liv said.

"Maybe not," her mother said. "But then again, someone might. Do you really want to find out?"

A knock came from the door, and Mama stood. "I have to see how Gretta’s getting on downstairs," she said. "I won’t tell you what to do, dove. You’re always welcome downstairs. Think about it." She reached the door and pulled it open, to reveal Sophie standing in the hallway just beyond.

"Oh! Your pardon," Sophie said. She was clutching a wooden case in her hands. "Lady Julianne sent me to help Liv get ready."

"I won’t get in your way, then," Mama said, and disappeared out into the hallway.

Liv looked Sophie over with a frown. "Get ready? I can dress myself," she said. "Been doing it my whole life." There hadn’t been any new trouble with the girl since Lady Julianne had a talk with her, but Liv had never forgotten her cruel words.

Sophie stepped into the room and closed the door, then walked over to Liv’s desk, set the box down, and opened it. "We have guests tonight. Baron Henry will be at supper, and the mayor, and everyone else. Lady Julianne wants you to make the right impression." With deft hands, the maid began removing combs, pins, bottles and brushes, laying them out on the desk.

"My mother thinks I shouldn’t go," Liv admitted, wriggling out of her skirt. That left her dressed in her linen shift and hose. She padded across the floor to the desk, looking over the variety of things now littering the surface. Liv only recognized half of them.

"I can see why," Sophie admitted. "Those two horrible beasts will be there, preening like roosters."

Liv winced. "Mirabel and Griselda will be there? Maybe I should just go eat in the kitchens."

Sophie bit her lip, then put her hands on her hips. "I didn’t say that. Look. It’s no secret I wasn’t very happy when you first started going upstairs."

"I thought we were past that," Liv said, shuffling her feet.

"Let me finish, please. When I went into service, my Ma warned me not to get above myself," Sophie explained. "She’d been a governess, you see. Taught me what to expect. And that it always ended badly for those who forgot their place. We’re the servants, not the family. They may treat us nice, and smile, but one wrong move and you’re out on the street without even a reference. I thought you were doing everything I’d ever been warned not to do. And I thought, where does she get off, anyway, thinking she’s better than us?"

"I don’t, though," Liv said. "I’ve never felt comfortable eating upstairs, or being all alone in this room."

"No, you are," Sophie said, holding up a hand to stop her. "I couldn’t do what you do. Even if I had some kind of magic. I see you going out to run around the walls, or cutting open frogs with the Chirurgeon, or reading books for hours on end like a real mage, and you just do it all, day after day. It doesn’t seem to ever stop. I couldn’t do that. I don’t know how you keep it up without being exhausted."

"It doesn’t seem like as much work as being a scullion," Liv told her.

"Because you enjoy it," Sophie said. "That’s obvious. And the way you saved us from those bats? I would have been a puddle on the floor, good for nothing but shaking and crying. What I’m saying is, you are different from us. Eat upstairs or downstairs, it doesn’t make a difference to me; but don’t let them chase you out, because you’ve done more to earn it than those two silly girls ever will. Well," she finished, "I said my piece. Lady Julianne wants me to do your hair and your face,and once I’m done with you I have to help her. So make up your mind. Do I stay, or do I go?"

Liv turned away, looking around her room as an excuse, more than anything else. It would be easier to go eat downstairs, with her mother and Gretta and the others. Mama was right, she could start getting to know the new servants. This would be a good chance.

But if she didn’t eat upstairs, she might never meet the Eldish merchant. And she would never know what he could tell her about her father’s people. Who knew when a chance like this would come again. Liv turned back to Sophie.

"I don’t know what you’re going to do with my hair," she admitted. "But go ahead and get started. You don’t want to keep Lady Julianne waiting."

☙

The sounds of feasting spilled out of the great hall, along with the flickering light of the oil lamps and the scent of smoked meat and wine. Liv hesitated in the hall just outside where the doors had been thrown wide. After Sophie had left, she’d gotten dressed herself, and then spent far too long pacing her room working up the nerve to leave. Twice, she’d nearly gone running for the garderobe to empty her stomach, but managed to calm her nerves with breathing exercises. Even after all that, she’d nearly torn her dress off, washed her face, and headed down to the kitchen. It still wasn’t too late, she told herself. She could turn around right now and avoid this.

"Miss Brodbeck," Piers greeted her, from his place at the left of the doors. Liv didn’t recall the name of the guard to the right, but she was more concerned with how formal the address was. "We’re announcing as people enter, this evening," he continued. "Would you prefer Miss, or Apprentice?"

"Apprentice." Liv had to say it twice before her voice was loud enough to be heard.

"Alright then," Piers said. "Give me just a moment to get their attention, and then you can head in." The castle guard stepped through the double doors, struck the steel-shod butt of his pole axe against the floor, and then called out: "Apprentice Liv Brodbeck, of the mages’ guild, and Maid of Honor to Lady Julianne!"

Liv’s fingers tightened around the shaft of her staff until she wondered that either they didn’t snap, or the aspen wood didn’t. In, hold, and then out again. One last breath, and she walked forward into the hall.

The racket had dimmed with the announcement, and far more faces than she’d been expecting turned toward her. Baron Henry was there at the high table, which was a rare occurrence since his injury, as it meant he had to be carried to and from his seat. He’d gained weight, which she supposed was no surprise when he couldn’t exercise. Lady Julianne was at his side, of course, dressed in a gorgeous dress of black and crimson that tugged at her memories. Masters Grenfell and Cushing were there, as well, and both Mayor Cooper and Sheriff Porter. Mirabel and Griselda were seated next to their fathers, respectively, though Liv didn’t actually recognize the head of the mason’s guild by sight. Both girls were done up like pretty tapestries, and glaring at her with spiteful eyes.

There were only two other seats at the high table, one left empty, and one occupied by the Eldish merchant. His skin was dark, like sanded and polished wood, and his ears even longer than hers, delicately pointed. His hair was nut-brown, both what fell in braids from the top of his head, and the beard. The most striking thing, however, was the color of his eyes: they reminded Liv of nothing so much as warm sunlight through a canopy of fresh green leaves. There was a peculiar quality to them, like the slanted golden light of the late afternoon.

"Livara," she said, as loud as she dared into the echoing hall. "My name is Livara." Her eyes were caught by that warm gaze, and she kept her attention fixed on the Eldish guest as she walked up the center aisle, staff in hand. Murmurs rose around her, but this display wasn’t for any of the castle guards, nor even for Lady Julianne. Liv knew exactly what they were all seeing, and she’d chosen the look for a reason.

She’d allowed Sophie to use a kohl to outline her eyes, and the smallest bit of rouge to add color to her cheeks and lips, but that was all. What she’d been far more specific about was her hair. They’d washed it, so that the white would be clear and clean, with not a hint of dirt or dullness about it. Then, Sophie had pulled it back into a braided bun, piled up off the back of her head. Almost always, she’d hidden her ears - beneath a cap or a scarf, or under her hair. Tonight, they were exposed for everyone to see.

The Eldish merchant rose from his seat, then waited there, standing, until Liv had approached the high table and offered her curtsy to both Baron Henry and Lady Julianne. "My apologies for arriving late," she said, lowering her eyes.

Before her husband could say anything, Julianne smiled and replied. "It is quite alright, my dear," she said. "Apprentice Livara," she continued, as smoothly as if she’d never used any other name, "please allow me the honor of introducing you to Airis Ka Reimis Kaen Keria, visiting us from the trading city of Al’Fenthia. Master Airis, Livara is learning from our Court Mage, Kazimir Grenfell, who you met earlier."

"The last thing I looked to find on my journey was a wind-tossed seed of my own people," Airis Ka Reimis pronounced, in a voice that was rich and deep as spiced cacao. "I must learn how such a delicate flower has bloomed here in Whitehill. Please, Livara, come and sit next to me."

Liv looked at the table. Baron Henry was on one side of him, and Mayor Cooper on the other. "There is no chair, m’lord," she pointed out. The only remaining empty seat was on the entire other side of the table, between Masters Grenfell and Cushing.

"Nonsense," Baron Henry said. "Alban, you’ve talked Master Airis’ ear off long enough. Go sit with Kazimir for a bit."

The mayor’s face turned bright red, and next to him, Mirabel’s eyes burned with hate. Regardless of how he felt, however, Alban Cooper was trapped: Baron Henry was lord of Whitehill, and his word in the castle was absolute. "Of course," the mayor said, after a moment, taking up his plate in one hand and his goblet in the other to make room.

Feeling every eye in the hall burning into her back, Liv walked around the table, allowed Edward, the youngest footman, to pull out her chair, and sat down next to the foreign merchant. On her left side, Mirabel was practically vibrating with restrained fury.

"By all the words in the world," Airis Ka Reimis said, "you must tell me, my dear. How did you come to be living here among the fireflies?"

"I was born here. My mother is the castle cook," Liv explained, keeping her hands to her sides so that Edward could fill a new goblet with wine for her, and set down a new plate. She hadn’t even looked at the food: only now did she realize that the Eld at her side had been served with venison as a main course. "I’ll have what he has," she told Edward, then turned to the merchant. "What do you mean by fireflies?"

"Your mother is Kenthäoria?" Master Airis said. "How fascinating. We have a few half-bloods in Al’Fenthia, but of course we also host more human visitors than any other House in the north, so it is inevitable. But what truly astounds me is that your father has left you here. Fireflies," he said, taking a sip from his own goblet. "That is one of the things we call our younger brothers and sisters. Kenthäoria is the old term - though perhaps not the most polite. Humans, my dear."

"Kenthäoria," Liv repeated. "I don’t know enough Vædic to translate that, yet. I only just started learning this past winter. What does it mean? And why fireflies?"

"Because they die so quickly, of course," Airis Ka Reimis answered. "Kenthäoria is what the old gods used to call humanity - ’field slaves."

"That’s horrible!" Liv exclaimed. "I can see why no one would want to be called that anymore."

Airis nodded. "Of course not. For all the same reasons that we call ourselves Vakansa, now. It means ’the free people," he offered, before Liv could even ask. "You have truly spent your entire life here, among humans?"

"I have," Liv said.

"That explains why you look half starved," the merchant remarked. "You need to eat food that is as mana-rich as possible. We weren’t given the gift after the fact, like our younger siblings. Eld were designed to be able to use magic from the beginning, for the convenience of our masters. Let me see your arm."

Before Liv could do anything, Airis reached out and gripped her right forearm. He shoved up her sleeve and the linen shift beneath, revealing the faint scars left when Master Cushing had cut off her diseased skin. The Eld sucked in a breath. "You need a teacher," he said, firmly. "You need to come north. There is no reason you should be suffering from mana-sickness, save only that you’ve never had the proper teacher."

Liv’s heart was beating so loudly she could barely think straight. "Wait, there’s a way to avoid mana-sickness?"

"Of course there is," Airis exclaimed, barking out a laugh that drew eyes from further down the table. "We will speak more of it later, Livara Kaen Syvä. You will be my guide, while I stay in Whitehill. I have need of someone who knows both the castle and the town, and I am unwilling to leave before I satisfy my curiosity about you."

"So you can sell what you learn?" Liv shot back, surprising herself.

Airis grinned. "Who told you that?" he asked.

"My mother," she replied.

"Then your mother, whether a cook or a queen, is a wise woman," Airis Ka Reimis said. "If you wanted to remain a secret, you should not have come here and said your name out loud. Any one of the Vakansa with ears would recognize it. You were named for your aunt, were you not?"

Liv swallowed, but remained silent.

"You don’t even know your father’s name, do you?" Airis said, shaking his head. "And there is no way your family is aware you exist, or they would have already come south to get you. The House of Syvä would never leave a daughter here, in the southlands."