Guild Mage: Apprentice

25. Mountain Home

Keri drew a robe of white fox-fur across his shoulders: while the calendar used by the Kenthäoria would mark the day as well into flood season, the slopes of Menis Breim had not yet seen a thaw.

"You’re restless."

He turned back to where Rika tär Kalevis kæn Bælris, his kwenim, remained wrapped in a nest of furs and pillows, her long hair tussled and spread out around her head like the spray at the bottom of a waterfall. Rika’s cheeks were still flushed, as was the skin just beneath her collarbone, peeking out from above the blankets. She didn’t look like she had the slightest intention of getting out of bed in the near future.

"I want to talk to my father about what we found at Keremor," Keri admitted. "It worries me."

"Your father and Sohvis will have it under control, whatever it is," she assured him. "If it’s kept without you for this long, it will keep a little while more. Are you certain I can’t persuade you to come back to bed?"

For a moment, Keri considered it. He’d never fully appreciated just how enjoyable being bound to a woman would be; he and Rika had grown up together, but this new element of their relationship had most certainly changed things. Instead, he walked back over to the bed of polished larchwood, leaned down, and kissed her.

"I can’t get it out of my mind," Keri explained, running one hand along her forehead and back into her hair. "It’s going to gnaw at me until I know what’s happening. Now that we’ve been joined a full month, he can’t put me off any more with excuses."

"He can’t put you off with this particular excuse," Rika corrected him, with a mischievous grin. "I’m certain he will have entirely new reasons for you to do what he wants."

"You’ll still have the worst of it," Keri teased her. "Now they’ll all be asking you when to expect a child."

"All the more reason for me to stay in bed," Rika grumbled, turning over onto her side and wrapping the furs more tightly around her body. "Close the door on your way out."

Keri did as she asked, though he didn’t expect anyone would be coming into their new quarters without permission, anyway. Their sitting room was appointed in the same style as the bed chamber, matching the rest of Mountain Home in all but details.

While the bones of the sprawling manor were granite, much of the interior was sheathed in wood. The floors, for instance, the frames of the double-paned windows, and most of the furniture were all crafted from larch trees, one of the few species hardy enough to survive in the taiga. Atop the polished wood were thrown plush fur rugs, carefully harvested over the years from a variety of northern animals, including bear, wolf, and fox. Rabbit furs were generally too small to be used for such purposes, even if they became mana beasts.

The carved furniture was ornamented with scrimshaw: door and drawer handles, oil lamp fittings, even the new horologes with the innards purchased and shipped from Al’Fenthia not twenty years ago. It was all quite comfortable, particularly with heating sigils worked into the floors. The enchantments kept everything warm enough that Keri hardly needed the robe, but he wasn’t certain exactly where he would find his father, and he didn’t want to be unprepared if he needed to step outside.

Keri paused with his hand at the door of the sitting room. His Næv’bel leaned against the corner of the room, right where he’d left it. His hand itched to take the spear in hand, but that was only the memories of the shrine in the forest. There was no need for him to go armed here: the guards at the watchtowers would have sounded the alarm at the smallest sign of danger. Leaving his weapon behind, Keri closed the door behind him and set out looking for his father.

As it turned out, he found his cousin Sohvis, first. Sohvis ka Auris kæn Bælris was only a year older than Keri, and closer to a brother than the son of his aunt. He was just inside the armory, with the door ajar, and half stripped out of his armor.

"Need help?" Keri offered.

"It would speed things up," Sohvis agreed, pulling an enchanted vambrace off and setting it in place on his armor stand.

Keri stepped into the room and maneuvered himself behind Sohvis, where he could begin working at the fastenings that held the cuirass onto the backplate. "Father had you out on patrol, then?" he asked.

Sohvis shook his head, sending locks of blonde hair flying in every direction - they were long enough to get in Keri’s way. "No," his cousin said. "The elders sent us down to Cold Harbor. We found the woman who made your altar."

"It isn’t my altar," Keri quibbled, then helped Sohvis out of his enchanted plate. "It was a woman, you said? Just one?"

"One that we found," Sohvis corrected him. "A whaler’s wife named Severa. They’re gathering to question her now, and I wanted to get there before they start."

"I’ll come with you," Keri offered. Between the two of them they had Sohvis out of the rest of his armor quickly enough, and each piece stored in the place prepared for it. When they were done, they closed the door to the armory, allowing the sigils that warded the room to reconnect.

"How’s Rika?" Sohvis asked, as the two young men hurried through the halls of Mountain Home. "I haven’t seen much of her since the joining ceremony."

"Father," Keri protested. "Let me do what I’ve been trained to do. If our House is truly under threat, do not hold me aside."

"Your task is more important," Ilmari said, halting his steps. He took Keri by both shoulders. "We dwindle. You are my last surviving son, and of all the descendants of Bælris who have lived and died over the last eleven-hundred years, your generation numbers only three. Your cousin can lead our men as well as you can, Inkeris. Of you, I ask something far more important. You must give our House an heir."

Keri blushed. "That hardly takes every moment of every day, father," he grumbled.

"He is correct," Aunt Väina broke in. "Let Keri help, brother. This hunt will begin close to home. If the trail leads far afield, then my son can pick up the hunt, and Keri can remain here with Rika. A child will come when the gods will it to be so. In the meanwhile, let our people see both our sons working together. It will give them confidence."

"Very well, Sister," Ilmari conceded, with a huff. "Inkeris will have command so long as this investigation is confined to our house’s lands. If an expedition must be sent out, then Sohvis will lead it. The two of you will work together, as it has ever been. You have our complete faith, but you will report to the council once each month on what you have found. Any cultists that you capture will be brought before us for questioning. Do you both understand your task?"

"Yes, Father," Keri said, and Sohvis echoed him.

"Good. Inkeris, remain with me a moment," Ilmari commanded.

"Come, Sohvis," Aunt Väina said, taking her son’s arm in her own. "I have a proposal for you from the House of Asuris, and there is a letter included from the young woman herself. Let me show it to you."

"I’ll look for you after," Keri told his cousin, and Sohvis nodded in agreement. His father took him by the elbow, and led him further down the stone paths. Steam rose to either side of them; at this time of day, there were few people bathing in the pools.

"I do not understand why anyone would turn to one of the dead gods," Keri said, once they were out of earshot. "No matter how desperate."

"I hope that you never have cause to say otherwise," Ilmari said. "You know that our numbers are shrinking."

"So they say," Keri said. "But I do not have your many years of perspective, Father."

"Is that a clever way of telling me that I’ve grown old?" Ilmari laughed. "Don’t I know it."

"It wasn’t quite what I meant," Keri said, with a smile. "But if that is the meaning you take..."

"How is your kwenim?" his father asked. "I’ve hardly seen Rika since the joining ceremony, but I suppose that is as it should be. The concerns of the world will crowd in soon enough; I suppose it has already begun. I wanted you both to have at least a little time with each other, to learn what it is to be joined."

"She is well," Keri said. "Though I think we are both starting to get a little restless. I know she spent yesterday afternoon making notes for a new interpretation of the sword dance."

"That will be good, when she is ready," Ilmari said. "A performance will give our people something to speak about other than this nasty business. The truth is, my son, that our creators never designed us to outlast them. We were shaped for their convenience, not to be our own people. And they never needed as many of us as they needed our younger siblings. There is a reason we sometimes call them fireflies."

"Kenthäoria," Keri said. "The field slaves. They call themselves humans."

"Yes," Ilmari agreed. "In their case, numbers were a good thing. They died in the mines, they died fishing at sea, they broke their backs in the fields. There was always a need for more to replace those who were lost, and so they were designed to be fertile. That was never our purpose. I have come to believe the only thing that has carried us this far is the Vædic blood, and that runs more thin with each successive generation. Which is why," he finished, "matching you with your cousin was so important."

"I know this, Father," Keri said.

"Bælris was my grandfather," Ilmari said. "Though I never knew him. One quarter of the blood in my veins is Vædic. For you and Rika, that proportion is only one eighth. By matching the two of you, at least the blood will not dwindle any further. My days have grown late, my son. Let me know that our house will last, before I pass from this world."

"We will, Father," Keri assured him. "You don’t need to worry. You have plenty of time left, and when you are done I will take your place."

Ilmari ka Väinis put one arm around his son’s shoulders. "You’re a good son," he said, after a moment. "Alright, then. I entrust this to you. Hunt down this cult. Find them all. Dig them out of whatever dark holes they’ve dug for themselves, Inkeris, and shine the light of Bælris on them. Burn every trace of this darkness away."