Guild Mage: Apprentice

By the time Liv had the pie ready to bake, her hands and arms were thoroughly covered in flour. She’d unlaced the left sleeve of her bodice and rolled back the linen shift underneath to her elbow; the bandages on her right arm would need to be changed, because there was no point in trying to clean them.

She was certain that Professor Annora would have been apoplectic at the sight of her leaning into a heavy rolling pin to spread the crusts, but in truth, multiple rounds of magical healing, a full night of circulating mana, and her own natural, enhanced rate of healing had left the arm with little more than a bit of soreness and an occasional twinge. What Master Cushing had once attributed to her Elden blood, Liv now understood to be in fact a benefit of her Vædic descent.

Despite how obvious it was the kitchen staff didn’t know what to make of her, the routine of baking was something that Liv found calming and familiar. Once it was clear she knew what she was doing, Lambert and his kitchen maids let her alone at the stretch of granite counter they’d ceded to her as sovereign territory. Upon reflection, her use of magic might have had just as much to do with that as her supposed noble status, or the shape of her ears.

There were plenty of kitchen charms used on a daily basis: the Charm of the Whetstone, to keep knives sharp; the Spark Charm, to light the hearth each morning; the Boiling Pot Charm, and the Peeling Charm, and all the others. That was all low magic, and anyone could do it. When Liv put a hand to her pitcher of water and mumbled an incantation under her breath, lowering the temperature to precisely the degree of chill she wanted, even the most ignorant scullion could see that it was different - high magic.

When the first crust was in her pie plate, Liv peeled and chopped the apples with her left hand, to be safe. She squeezed the juice from a lemon, which she’d found far less expensive in Coral Bay than she was used to, and used it to toss the apple slices with cinnamon, sugar, and nutmeg. She popped one of the apple slices into her mouth to check the seasoning, nodded, and chewed it while she rolled out the second crust, to make the top of the pie. She carefully rolled the edges, then used a knife to cut out ornamental shapes, little swirls, circles, and lines. Finally, she painted the top of the pie with milk using a kitchen brush, so that it would brown nicely, just as Mama and Gretta had taught her.

“When you first came down here,” Lambert said, appearing at her elbow, “I admit I suspected this was some passing fancy of yours, m’lady. But it is clear that you do actually know your way around a kitchen. I apologize for my assumption.”

Liv shrugged. “In all honesty, I suspect if any other girl in this house had come in my place, you would have been correct,” she admitted. “I’m something of an exception in any number of ways.”

“I’ll see it in the oven, then,” Lambert offered. “No need for you to stay down here and watch it bake. Shall I have it sent up to the second floor after the main course?”

“Please,” Liv said. “And thank you for letting me make use of your tools, and your space. Is there anything I can do as thanks?”

Lambert shook his head. “No, m’lady. You’d better head up and get changed, now.”

As Liv turned to leave, one of the kitchen maids, a small mousy girl who made herself appear even smaller by curling her body in on itself, approached. “Is it true, m’lady? What you said earlier - that you’re a cook’s daughter?”

Liv paused, having gathered up the bodice sleeve she’d detached. “Yes,” she answered. “My father is one of the Eld of the North, of the House of Syvä. When he visited Castle Whitehill, he loved my mother, however briefly. When I was born, the old Baron didn’t put her out, and kept her on as cook. I grew up in a kitchen very like this one.”

“That’s enough, Heather,” Lambert broke in. “Back to work, now.”

The girl scurried off, and Liv made her way upstairs. She got a few odd looks for the flour on her arms, including one from Merek Sherard, who had just stepped out into the first floor foyer as she made her way to the staircase. His eyes widened, his face paled, and he hurried back into the room from which he’d just emerged, as if she were a mountain wolf about to crack his bones and suck out the marrow. The thought made Liv grin all the way to her bed chamber.

“What’s all this, then?” Sidonie asked, as she came through their sitting room. The third year had three different books spread out around her, and a sheaf of paper, quill, and inkpot to go along with them.

“A surprise,” Liv said. “You’ll learn more at dinner. What are you doing?”

“I’m preparing a treatise for Professor Norris,” Sidonie explained. “I’ve proposed that it should be possible to use Cei to create a kind of dream ward, and I’m trying to work out the sigils and materials.”

“What, so that you won’t have nightmares?” Liv asked.

“That could be part of it, I suppose,” Sidonie said. “But really, to prevent someone else from interfering with your dreams. It’s been something like thirty years since Professor Jurian and his team brought the word back, but they’ve been very close about letting anyone other than masters imprint the word. I think they’re a bit afraid of what could be done with it.”

“That makes a bit of sense,” Liv said. “I’ve seen someone put into an enchanted slumber from which she could not wake.”

“To say nothing of spying,” Sidonie said. “Imagine how much you could learn from watching someone’s dreams. Their fears, their obsessions, their secrets... though I suspect you’d also have to sift through a lot of uncomfortable erotic trash, around here.”

Liv felt her cheeks and ears burning, and wondered if her body would ever stop betraying her every thought. Sidonie must have noticed, for she grinned. “Everything’s so different here,” Liv admitted. “Matthew and Triss warned me, a bit, but no one really seemed to think anything of Cade kissing me. In Whitehill or even Freeport it would have been a scandal, and we’d have a chaperone all the time. To say nothing of that Celestria Ward.”

“The college has been somewhat scandalous from the beginning,” Sidonie said, setting down her quill and shaking out her hands. “Right from the decision to let commoners, merchants and nobles mix in the same lectures. Anyway, go get cleaned up, it’s nearly sixth bell.”

Change she did, and also endure a bit of exasperated scolding from Thora, who had the unenviable task of brushing out Liv’s hair. Apparently the flour had gotten there, too, though Liv doubted anyone would have been able to notice the white on white. “Where’s Wren, then?” she asked, while the maid helped her into a fresh bodice.

“She said you’re safe enough here in High Hall, and she was out to keep an eye on something,” Thora told her. “She said you’d know what she meant.”

“I do,” Liv confirmed. “I hope she gets something to eat, at least.”

She was a bit nervous all through dinner, and if someone had asked Liv what she’d eaten for the main course, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. Instead, she spent her time trying to be polite, kind, and cheerful to Edith at every turn. Finally, as the dishes were being cleared, Liv caught sight of Lambert at the top of the stairs. When he gave her a nod, she stood up.

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“Ladies,” Liv said, “I’ve prepared a surprise for us all. I know that Tephania and I are the new girls here, and I just wanted to sort of thank you all for welcoming us in, and showing us around. I hope we can all be great friends. Master Lambert?”

The cook strode over, carrying the pie plate in two baking mitts. “Here you are, m’lady,” he said, setting it down on the table.

“You had the cook bake a pie?” Florence asked, with a twinkle in her eye and a grin. “How wonderful!”

“Not quite,” Liv said.

“Lady Brodbeck baked this herself,” Lambert explained. “All I did was loan her the tools. She even brought her own ingredients.” He removed a knife from his apron and began cutting slices.

“That’s why you had flour all over your arms when you came up, isn’t it?” Sidonie asked, and Liv nodded.

“I hope you all enjoy it,” she said. “It’s my mother’s recipe.” Once everyone had been served with a slice, Lambert departed back down the stairs. Sidonie and Tephania dug in immediately, and Liv was relieved to see their grins once they’d had a taste. At their urging, even Edith finally took a bite, and Liv was pleased at the reaction.

“Alright, Brodbeck,” the perpetually sour girl said, once she’d finished. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. But you can’t do this every night, or we’ll all be plump as partridges!”

☙

Liv was still feeling pleased with the success of her stratagem the next morning when she arrived at the training yard for her advanced course in magical combat, Wren trailing behind her. Edith had been the only awkwardness on the second floor of High Hall, and if that could be set to rights with the occasional sweet, the year promised to be much more harmonious.

As Master Jurian had promised, there were only twenty students, and of those Liv recognized no one but Arianell Seton, who she didn’t want to speak to any more than strictly necessary. While the remedial and basic classes were left with their respective journeymen instructors, Jurian walked the advanced students down the bluff to the shore below, crafting them a staircase of shining blue light that sparked with gold veins in the morning sun. Liv judged she probably could have got down with a chute of ice, but climbing back would have been problematic.

Once they were on the strand, Jurian pointed his staff out at the water. “The Tidal Rift,” he said. “One of only a handful of greater rifts in Lucania, and also one of the most peculiar. While eruptions are relatively rare - for a greater rift - we have to contend with king tides, as well.”

“For those with no nautical background,” he continued, “a king tide comes when the sun, our world, and the moon align just so, perhaps twice a year, though not always. The name comes from the extreme variance between high and low tides at that time - the waystone goes from completely submerged and inaccessible, for instance, to bone dry in an expanse of sandbars that stretch to the horizon.”

Liv raised her hand. “Does the tide affect the extent of the shoals?”

“Not in the same way as an eruption,” Jurian answered. “We don’t have raw mana spilling out, but we do see mana beasts of enormous size carried in by the king tide, far out of the depths they would normally inhabit. And then, when the waters recede, much of the reef is exposed, including the Vædic ruins. You can think of it as something of a miniature eruption, which happens between once and twice each year. Those of you who are not first years will already know what this means.”

“All hands on deck,” one of the boys called out.

“Precisely. Another nautical term,” Jurian elaborated. “Everyone will be assigned to roles based on competence. Those in advanced healing courses but unable to fight, for instance, will be manning the infirmary for casualties as they come in. Those in remedial combat courses will help as nurses, in the kitchens, or even just as runners carrying messages and supplies. Anyone in at least one basic combat course will act as a last line of defense for either the town or the campus. You, on the other hand, will be broken up into teams led by journeymen. You will be engaging mana-beasts directly, in shifts.”

“Regardless of whether you’re a first year, second year, or even third year,” Jurian continued, “the fact you’re here in this course means it is most likely your first time on the actual front lines during a king tide, rather than simply assisting. I brought you down here so you can get an idea of what you’ll be facing, and what will be needed. Find a seat, if you can.”

Liv cast about: mostly, the strand consisted only of dunes of white sand, but there were also a few great pieces of driftwood, more tree than branch, and a few large boulders that thrust up out of the shore. She found herself a smooth section of sun-bleached wood, gathered her skirts beneath her, and tried to get comfortable. Wren stared down an unfortunate boy whose hair was already thinning, and took the spot next to her.

“The first thing to know, if you're not already aware,” Jurian explained, pacing back and forth along the beach, “is that if you’ve brought armor, you can’t wear it during a king tide. It’s one thing if you’re up at the school, or in town, but not down here.”

“Why not?” Liv asked.

“Because I don’t want you drowning,” Jurian said. “No skirts, either, Apprentice Brodbeck. If you’ve not already gone into town to get yourself a pair of trousers, I need all you ladies to do that. There’s a few shops that know what we prefer for swimwear, and the older girls can tell you where to go. You want sailor’s pants - light fabric, cut at the knee. Nothing that will drag you down if you have to swim.”

“It’s easy enough to be caught out when the tide turns,” he told them, “especially if you’re in the middle of a fight. Worse, there are tide pools out at the reef, and sometimes riptides that can pull you out into the bay. You want to carry nothing that can weigh you down, and you need to be able to swim. For which reason,” he said, “we’re going to meet down here every morning, starting at our next class. Dress for swimming lessons, because that’s what we’re going to be doing. I need to be confident that everyone here can tread water, and get back to shore if they need to. If you’ve a word that will help with that, or with rescuing one of your classmates, we’ll train that, as well.”

“I thought this was a combat class,” Arianell Seton broke in. She looked annoyed, and Liv could take a guess as to why: the girl’s magic would be useless unless she brought along a decent supply of silver. Her word of power was not well suited to the kind of culling Master Jurian was talking about.

“She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?” Wren whispered, at Liv’s side, and Liv hushed her so they wouldn’t attract the professor’s ire.

“So it is,” Jurian said, in answer to Arianell’s question. “But you already know how to fight, or you wouldn’t be here. Outside of the training yard, preparation will save your life, and that’s one of the most important things I intend to beat into your collective skulls. You have the advantage of knowing what ground you’re going to be fighting on here, as well as the capabilities of your enemies. You’d be fools to give that kind of edge up. Master Blackwood will teach you about the kinds of mana-beasts we get, while I make sure you’re ready to deal with the terrain.”

“What about wands?” Liv asked. She could fight without it if she had to, but she’d prefer not to handicap herself.

“With modifications,” Jurian said. “See that you get yourself a leather thong attached to the handle, Brodbeck - and anyone else who uses one. You tie it to your wrist, so that you can’t lose it if you find yourself in the water. This is the kind of fighting that uses daggers, not rapiers, so equip yourselves appropriately. The blacksmith in town can set you up with whatever you need if you use blades. Bankes, where are you?”

A girl with tan skin and sun-bleached blonde hair raised her hand.

“Good,” Jurian said. “Everyone make certain you introduce yourself to Cassandra. Cassie’s word of power is Ved, and it allows her to control water. If you get in over your head, so to speak, she’s your best friend.” He paused a moment, then glared at the assembled students. “If I make a jest, I expect you to at least pretend that it’s amusing,” he grumbled. “Does anyone else think they possess a word that could be useful in saving your drowning classmates?”

Liv hesitantly raised her hand. “Maybe?” she said. “I’ve never tried it in the ocean, only a river.”

“You’ll try it starting next class,” Jurian declared, “and we’ll find out. Good.”

“Why all the rush?” Arianell Seton asked. “After all, you even said there aren’t more than one or two of these a year, right? So we have time to get ready?”

“Time?” Jurian chuckled. “Not as much as you might think. The archmagus has already charted the tides for the rest of the year, and he’s hardly ever wrong. Our first king tide will come in seventeen days, and the second will arrive in about nine months. You have just over a fortnight to be ready, and by the gods old and new, I will whip you into shape by any means necessary.”