Guild Mage: Apprentice

34. The Lady of Changes

Warning: This Chapter touches on some of the realities of female adolescence. There’s nothing graphic or sexual, but I thought people should have a heads up.

Liv felt stupid, standing by the funeral pyre, lined up with all the others. Master Cushing had been looking older and more fragile for years now, but it had still taken her utterly by surprise when he’d died in the night. The old chirurgeon was supposed to keep everyone else healthy: how could he be the one to go away first?

Baron Henry was the only one seated: two of the castle guards had carried him over and set their lord in a chair before the funeral began. Lady Julianne stood at his left, and Matthew at his right. Matthew, Liv noticed, was nearly as tall as his mother, now. Master Grenfell stood with the family. Liv, on the other hand, had chosen to stand with her mother and Gretta.

Osric Fletcher, the priest of the Trinity, rarely had cause to visit Castle Whitehill; normally, Baron Henry or Lady Julianne led the family and the servants in their prayers. For a death, however, only a priest would do.

All morning, the men of the castle - a group which for the first time admitted Matthew to their work - had built the pyre. They kept plenty of dried firewood on hand in the wood-cellar, and they’d formed a line to pass it up and out into the courtyard. The footmen, the castle guards, and even Master Grenfell had all got their hands dirty.

The women, in the meanwhile, had gathered herbs and flowers. "One thing no one likes to talk about," Gretta had told Liv, quietly. "The smell. A human body burning smells foul. Go get more of the dried sage." Once the men had built a frame of carefully laid wood, Liv helped stuff it with sage, lavender, rosemary, rose petals, and chamomile. Archie poured a liberal helping of lamp oil over the whole thing.

"The last thing anyone wants is to struggle to light it," the first footman had told her, when he’d noticed Liv watching. "Remember this when it comes to be my turn. Get it done quick and proper, no mistakes." Liv had nodded, and walked back to the kitchen with him.

"-for what is death, but another change?" Osric Fletcher asked the assembled, rousing Liv from her muddled thoughts. "After a life wracked by storms, a life of striving to live up to our potential, Sitia welcomes us into her arms. Like any other change, death is frightening - but it comes to all of us. Remember, the Lady lends us strength. You who remain, send this man on his way with your love, and take comfort in each other. Aldo Cushing, we give your body to the fire, so that your mortal blood may not feed the wicked. May your soul be free at last."

When the priest stepped back, Kazimir Grenfell stepped forward. The mage knelt by the side of the pyre, extended his hand, and invoked the word of his family. Liv only rarely witnessed her teacher using Æter, the word of fire, but today it lit the dry wood and lamp oil immediately. Grenfell stood, bowed his head for a moment, and then backed away.

Liv couldn’t pull her eyes from Master Cushing’s familiar profile, even as his features were picked out in silhouette against the rising flames. White spirals of smoke drifted up from the pyre: the sage had caught. "He’s the first person I’ve ever known who died," Liv said, and her mother pulled her into a hug.

"He was a good man," Mama said, brushing at her eyes with her other hand. "Despite all his moaning and complaining, he was always there to help anyone who needed it."

"Before his hip got so bad," Liv recalled, "he always used to take me into town. He had me practice on everyone’s cuts and bruises."

"And he was handsome when he was younger," Gretta said. "I remember the first day he came to the castle. Had all us girls giggling over him."

Something sharp stabbed at Liv’s heart. She would have rather not thought about the fact that Gretta and Master Cushing were near the same age. And Archibald wasn’t much younger.

The priest joined them in the great hall, after the pyre had burned low, for the funeral feast. That was tradition, too: it would have been ungrateful to send him on his way without thanking the man with a meal. Before dessert was served, Lady Julianne rose from her seat.

"It will take at least a ten-day for the Order of Chirurgeons to send us a Court Chirurgeon," she said, raising her voice to address the entire assembly. "In Master Cushing’s absence, I have asked Rhea, the midwife, to come up from Fairford and stay at the castle. She will be here to treat anyone who needs it until a chirurgeon arrives."

Liv frowned at the thought of someone replacing Master Cushing. He wasn’t an old shield or a chipped plate, to be discarded and never thought of again. At least the midwife was someone she’d met before, though it had been a dozen years since the eruption. The footmen came out with the dessert platters, pulling her out of her thoughts.

☙

It was on the third night after the funeral that Liv woke up to a sore belly. She winced, curling around herself, and tried to go back to sleep. When that didn’t seem like it was going to work, she groped across her bedside table for the candle she kept there.

"Ghelet Legaem," Liv murmured, and the wick caught, casting a warm glow around her bedchamber. If she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, perhaps she could get some spellwork done. She kicked her blankets aside and walked over to her desk, where she lit the oil lamp with the candle. The sudden light pushed back the darkness of night, and Liv saw that her shift was stained with something dark, halfway between red and brown. She looked back to her bed, and saw a spot of darkness in the sheets, as well.

"Blood and shadows," Liv cursed. Mama had warned her about this, and Emma had told her more. It was one more thing to worry about. She would have preferred it didn’t come in the middle of the night, while she was asleep, however. It was obvious no work was going to be done, now. Liv walked back over to the bed and pulled the rope, which would ring a bell down in the kitchen. She would have just gotten a washbowl and hot water herself, but she didn’t want to creep around in the middle of the night in a stained shift. It seemed safer to stay in her room, even if that did mean disturbing someone else’s sleep.

By the time Joan had brought her hot water, rags to scrub with, and soap, Liv had bundled up the ruined sheets and stripped the mattress. There was a smell to it, when you got right up close, and it all made her feel dirty. She handed those and the stained shift out, in exchange for the washing things, and then closed and locked the door behind the maid. It was astounding she didn’t fall over and die right then from the embarrassment. Then, she focused on getting herself cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes, before heading for Master Cushing’s old rooms. Perhaps it was a good thing Lady Julianne had asked the midwife to come to the castle, after all.

The morning sun was just coming through the windows by the time Rhea of Fairford had finished examining Liv. "You’re perfectly healthy," the old midwife assured her. "Nothing different than any other girl. Have some tea to settle your stomach; if you want to spend the day in bed, I’ll tell everyone else you’re not feeling well. They won’t argue with me."

He shrugged. "Ride in front of me. Come on, it’ll be an adventure."

"The trouble with you is that you’ve never had a real adventure," Liv said. "Try having a stone-bat or two fly at your face, and see how fun you think it is."

"There won’t be any stone-bats," Matthew said. "We’re going south, not north. And father says there won’t be another eruption for at least ten years."

"If I don’t go with you, you’re just going to do it alone, aren’t you," Liv guessed. Matthew answered her question with a cocky grin. "Fine," she said. "Now back to your nouns. He’s coming back with his brandy."

☙

After the evening meal, that night, Liv didn’t go to sleep with the rest of the castle. Instead, she waited until the tenth bell, fetched the lighter of her two cloaks from the clothes chest in her room, and then spent a moment considering her staff. Matthew was right; they were riding away from the rift, down a well kept road.

Though she’d never actually been there, Liv knew that the Sign of the Terrapin was located in the southern pass that led out of the Aspen River Valley. The castle guards went there sometimes, when they were feeling adventurous or bored with the usual three inns. Merchants stayed there, as well, on their way into the valley, and Liv had never heard any of them say that it was dangerous.

Plus, it was a pain to hold the staff while she was riding double with Matthew. She’d gotten riding lessons with him: the past few years, Lady Julianne must have decided it was easier to just have them both taught the same things. But while Matthew had been given a young warhorse for his twelfth birthday, Liv took her lessons on Lady Julianne’s palfrey, and there was no way she was going to steal Snowflake for the night.

Her decision made, Liv leaned the staff in the corner of her room, adjusted her cloak, and slipped out of her room. She met Matthew in the stables, where he already had Boulder saddled. He’d even wrapped the horse’s hooves in rags, to muffle the sound of his iron shoes striking cobblestones. She also noticed he was wearing an arming sword at his belt.

"Here," he said, cupping his hands together and offering Liv a place to put her boot. She put a hand on his shoulder and one on the saddle, pushed herself up with her left leg, and got herself settled. Lady Julianne had taught her to ride sidesaddle, and Liv managed to get her skirt arranged so that it didn’t show her ankles. Then, Matthew clambered up behind her, and they were off.

He must have arranged with one of the guards for the castle gates to be open, but the gate out of the Lower Banks was a different matter. The town guards stopped them, and Liv found herself being peered at by lamplight.

"I can’t let you out of town at night, m’lord," the guard said. His whiskers were trimmed so that they stuck out of his cheeks like a bush, but his chin was shaved clean.

"We’re just taking in a bit of fresh air," Matthew said, slipping a silver coin to the guard. "The ring is beautiful tonight, isn’t it? We’ll be back in a bell."

The whiskered guard scowled, but pocketed the coin. "Don’t get yourselves lost out there," he said, and stomped over to the winch. As the men cranked the gate halfway open, Liv saw one of them elbow another, nod in her direction, and say something. The second guard laughed, and she pulled her hood up to cover her face.

Once they were through the gate, Matthew urged Boulder to a canter. Though it was not yet harvest time, the nights had begun to cool, and Liv was grateful she could lean into her friend’s body for warmth.

"You alright in there?" Matthew asked her, as Boulder took them south, his hooves eating up the road.

"Just a little chilly," Liv admitted.

"There’ll be a warm fire at the inn," Matthew said. But he also wrapped an arm around her, holding the reins in just his right hand. A few years ago, it might have frightened her; but he was undeniably a good horseman, now.

In fact, Liv felt quite safe. And the ring was pretty, like the guard had said. She looked up at the stars and the moon, and the great shining line that split the sky in half. Away from the lights of Whitehill, everything seemed brighter.

At Fairford, Boulder thumped over the bridge without any interruption, and then they were away south on an open road under the starry sky. "This is the furthest from home I’ve ever been," Liv admitted.

"Me too," Matthew said, and she could imagine his grin even if she couldn’t see it. He was fearless, and always had been, from the time he’d been a baby. The ride lulled her half to sleep, until Boulder’s gait changed.

Liv stirred within Matthew’s arms, and opened her eyes as the horse came to halt. The building was three stories, built in the shape of a square with one side missing. The missing side faced the road, and was filled by a cobblestone courtyard. Light spilled out from the paned windows of the common room, along with voices and fragments of music. Over the door hung a painted wooden sign with a turtle on it.

Matthew helped Liv down, and she waited while he tied Boulder up at the post. Then, like the gentleman his mother had trained him to be, he opened the door for her, and Liv stepped into the Sign of the Terrapin.