David Niemitz
patreon
Guild Mage 289
🕑 Added 2025-10-28 14:06:49 +0000 UTCChapter 289: Before the Council
“You know, back when we first met in Freeport,” Liv said, “I don’t think I ever even asked what House you were a member of. You were only the second –” she glanced to Keri, at her side – and third of the Vakansa I’d met.”
She stepped right up to the ambassador, who’d risen from his seat on one log, and looked into his eyes. “They aren’t as bright green as Calevis or Aatu,” Liv said, after a moment. “And Seija had rather distinctive hair.”
The older man shrugged. “I’m not of the main line,” he admitted. “Only the lightest trace of Vædic blood in me.” Sakari reached up, took a strand of graying hair between his fingers, and held it out between them. “You’ll both outlive me, I’m sure.”
“Let’s have a seat.” Liv stepped past him to where her grandmother and father waited; she leaned down to embrace Eila, but Valtteri rose to wrap her up in his strong arms. That done, she took Keri’s arm and walked him over to an empty log. While she was no longer worried about him when he was on horseback, or walking across the floor of a well-tiled corridor, the campsites were in a forest, where all manner of exposed roots, rocks, or other obstructions might trip him up, cane or no.
“I’ll make certain all the tents get set up,” Kaija promised. At her nod, half a dozen of Liv’s guards scattered around, establishing a perimeter in the trees. Thora went with her, and Liv was certain she’d find much more luxurious sleeping conditions than she’d had in Varuna, whenever she finally made it to her tent.
Baron Crosbie and Master Grenfell, on the other hand, found themselves a free log to sit on, and settled down. Both of the older men let out the same sort of soft groan: it was a noise that spoke of long hours in the saddle during the journey.
“Father, Grandmother, you’ll remember Baron Arnold Crosbie and Kazimir Grenfell, Master Mage,” Liv said, gathering her skirts and sitting down. “Baron, Master Grenfell, my grandmother Eila tär Väinis, and my father, Valtteri ka Auris. I believe you all met at the council at Bald Peak, though I don’t know how much time there was to actually get to know each other. And I know you’ll both remember Sakari kæn Iravata, the Ambassador to Lucania.” She felt Keri shift next to her, leaning over just enough to set his cane down on the ground.
A series of nods and hand clasps worked its way around the group, with noticeably more warmth among those who’d spent time together in the past - Grenfell and Liv’s father, for instance, had crossed paths numerous times during the years that Valtteri had lived in Whitehill.
“House Iravata was already encamped here when your father and I arrived,” Liv’s grandmother explained, speaking in Lucanian for Grenfell and Crosbie’s benefit. “I think they may actually have been the first ones.”
“Keri told me that could be seen as a sign of desperation,” Liv remarked, focusing her gaze on Sakari. “I have to admit, I’m surprised that you aren’t in Freeport.”
“Well, I decided there was no point in pretending,” Sakari said. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, back slumped in weariness. “The truth of it is, Livara, House Iravata can hardly even be said to exist any more. So many of our warriors joined Ractia, and then we lost people on both sides of the fighting. Those who remained loyal had to prove it, and they fought from the eruption at Al’Fenthia, to the pass in the Aspen Valley, and then to Varuna. We lost our last surviving elder against Ractia. I understand you were there.”
“I was.” Liv nodded. The memory of Aatu’s body, pierced by spikes of black iron and then stretched until his limbs tore free, was one that she’d already seen in her dreams. “He never backed down, you know.”
Sakari sighed. “Regardless of how he died, we’re now only a broken remnant. Whatever fighting comes next, Livara, House Iravata won’t be able to send any more warriors to help. Not for a hundred years or more. I’m not even certain that we can rebuild – a single bad eruption might be more than we can handle. Which is why I’ve come to you.”
Liv hesitated for a long moment. She knew what she should do, but she hadn’t expected Sakari to be the first person she spoke to. It felt almost like a betrayal, showing such a lack of trust after how much he’d helped her years ago. But she needed to begin how she intended to continue.
“Keri?” she murmured, turning to her side.
He nodded. “I will tell you if he speaks anything which is not the truth.” Her friend’s Authority bloomed outward from beside her. Liv knew that she could have crushed it, if she wanted to, but she did not. In fact, the feeling of warm summer sun on her skin was comforting.
“If you resist,” Livara told Sakari, meeting his eyes again, “I will assume that you are lying.”
“I understand.” Sakari waited for Liv’s nod, and then continued. “I have convinced the rest of my house to ask for your protection.”
“My protection.” Liv repeated the words, tasting the feel of them.
“Yes. We ask that, should we come under attack, or in the event of an eruption, you come to our aid,” Sakari explained. “We may also need help feeding our people. I don’t – it isn’t clear that we have enough left to support ourselves. In return, we offer our three votes on the council to you.”
“You’re asking for a long term commitment in return for only a short term effort on your part,” Liv said, after thinking for a moment. “What does House Iravata produce? What do you trade?”
“Most years, we can barely farm enough food to support ourselves,” Sakari admitted. “We often buy food from Al’Fenthia. What we can offer you is our wyrms.”
“You don’t seem to have many left,” Liv pointed out. “Nor many riders. Aatu brought twenty to Varuna, and most of them didn’t come back. I didn’t get the impression that he was holding back a reserve.”
“No,” Sakari confirmed. “At least, not any adult wyrms trained for war. But breeding season is coming, at the end of the summer, and a single female can lay a clutch of up to a dozen eggs. We’ll have wyrms again before we have the warriors to ride them.”
“You’re willing to train a force of wyrm riders?” Liv asked him. “To imprint your word of power on alliance soldiers?”
Sakari nodded. “We also produce medicine from the venom,” he told her. “Elixers that can reduce the risk of death from a weak heart. Medicine that can treat blood clots, or halt bleeding.”
“And poison,” Valtteri pointed out. “A great many of your house imprint that as a secondary word.”
“There is a great deal of synergy.” Sakari nodded. “Using Thō, the venom we milk from the wyrms can be altered – made more potent. It is also how we create antidotes, and the medicines I described to you.”
Liv glanced to Keri again, and he nodded.
“House Iravata makes a commitment to join the alliance,” Liv said. “To remain in the alliance for the long term. I have your votes for the duration of this council. Afterward, we work together to see that the alliance can field wyrm riders, and we help you to produce and trade your medicines. The poisons are going to end up regulated by law, but those can go to the alliance army. In return, we’ll make certain you’re compensated fairly. We can station troops in Iravata lands, to protect your house from here on out. If there’s an eruption, we’ll cull it. You’ll pay the same taxes to the crown that are paid by the barons. I’m sure Baron Crosbie will be more than willing to talk to you about what that involves, since he already deals with it.”
“The alliance army?” Liv’s father asked. “The army that’s broken into a dozen pieces and all gone home?”
“Benedict had one good idea,” Liv told him. “We can’t be arguing with every baron and every house to get their warriors the next time Ractia is found. We need to already have an army, trained, equipped, and ready to react. Without hesitation.”
“Agreed,” Sakari said.
“All of it?” Liv asked.
“Yes. All of it.” The older man exhaled, and to Liv’s surprise, it felt more like a sigh of relief than of surrender. “Thank you. I’ll leave you and your family to talk, then.”
“Ambassador,” Liv said, catching Sakari before he could walk away. “Make me a list of how every elder will be likely to vote, based on your knowledge. Get it to me tonight, please.”
“On the question of Nighthawk and Wren Sky Dancer?” Sakari asked. “And the continuation of the alliance, of course. Yes, I can do that.”
“There may be a few more votes than that,” Liv said. “Let me tell you about them.”
☙
“What are our counts?” Liv asked. She sat in a folding camp chair, while Thora gently unwove her braids.
As she’d suspected, her tent was utterly ridiculous. Archie and Basil had, apparently, dug it out of storage. It had once belonged to Henry’s father, the Old Baron, the same one who’d spent his life accumulating the collection in the Room of Curiosities – including the statue of Ractia that Wren had stolen from Castle Whitehill so long ago.
It was a pavilion, meant for a baron and his entire entourage to use at a jousting tournament. In the Old Baron’s days as a young man, those had still, apparently, been quite the pastime among the knights of Lucania. They’d had to do a bit of repair-work, but the result was an enormous, octagonal space, divided by hanging curtains into a space for sleeping, where Liv’s cot had been laid out, and a space for receiving visitors. Thora even had her own corner of the tent, again divided by a curtain, so that the baron’s squire might be close at hand to attend his every need.
Rather than bare earth or grass, the folding furniture had been set upon thick carpets. Braziers provided light, heat for the northern nights, and even the sweet scent of incense, imported from the east and sprinkled among the coals.
Keri sat at a portable desk, with a piece of parchment, several quill pens, and a bottle of ink close at hand. “The three whitehill votes, and the elders from Houses Syvä, Däivi, and Iravata will back you no matter what,” he said, with a sigh. “That’s a base of twelve votes to work from.”
“We need twenty,” Liv said. Thora’s fingers were gentle and soothing on her scalp, but she couldn’t relax until she knew that she had everything under control.
“We can assume the Red Shield votes will be for mercy, when it comes to Wren and her father,” Keri continued. “That puts you at fifteen for each of those votes. “Elder Aira has already taken Wren’s side once, so that’s sixteen – though I can’t tell you what she’ll want regarding the father. That’s the vote we’re closest on.”
“I’m going to assume it isn’t worth even speaking to House Kalleis,” Liv grumbled. “Until what happened at Soltheris has had time to fade from their memory, at least. And my proposal regarding Commander Juhani is just going to push them further away.”
“You could not do it,” Keri reminded her. “If you tell them you’ll let what he did go, you might be able to get a vote out of them on something. Something they aren’t so entrenched in.”
“If they want to make an offer about that, let them come to me and ask,” Liv said. “You can feel free to mention what I plan to do about him when you visit your family tomorrow.”
“It’s already sending quite a signal that I’m here with you, and not camping with them,” Keri admitted, with a sigh. “I’m certain I can sway my father, at least.”
Liv wasn’t, but she didn’t say it out loud. “I’d like more than your father, if you can get them,” she told him, instead. “Your cousin Sohvis fought at the pass. Maybe he can convince your aunt that we need to be united on this.”
Keri looked away.
Liv raised her hand to stop Thora’s work, and then stood. She walked over to Keri and knelt next to him, placing her hand over his. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it can’t be comfortable to go there. If I thought they’d listen to me, I would go myself.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Keri told her. “The ruin of my life before the war – you had nothing to do with it, Liv. I made a choice – that I could do more to protect my son by fighting, than by remaining home to raise him. I don’t regret that choice. I still think I did the right thing. I just wish –”
“Don’t waste tears on her,” Liv told him. “If she was the sort of woman you deserved, she would have waited for you to come home.”
“I’m past weeping. I just wish I didn’t have to see her,” Keri grumbled. “But I suppose I can’t avoid that, either. She’s the mother of my child. As uncomfortable as it is, I’m going to have to deal with Rika. But I don’t think I can go back to living there. It – it wouldn’t be good for me to be around them all the time.”
“Bring Rei back to visit us here,” Liv suggested. “We have time before the last of the houses arrive. I’d like to see him.”
“Keria has the shortest distance to travel, but they still haven’t come,” Keri agreed, with a sigh. “Aira’s reminding everyone that she expects them to listen to her. Your great-uncle’s house is less than a day’s march away; they’ll get here tomorrow. House Asuris arrived just before sunset.”
“She may also be making certain that we have the time we need before the council actually begins,” Liv told Keri, with a grin. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s always thinking a few steps ahead.”
“If that’s the case, we must take advantage of it,” Keri agreed. “I’ll go to my family tomorrow. Perhaps there is something my aunt will want. Perhaps Sohvis can help – you’re right; going to war has a way of changing a man’s priorities.”
“My lady.”
Liv turned to the entrance. Lina, one of the guards who’d gone with her to the Tomb of Celris, had pulled the flap aside and was standing just inside the tent. Though she wasn’t permitted to carry a weapon, she still wore her jack-of-plate in blue and white. Liv was suddenly conscious that she was kneeling next to Keri’s chair, with her hand on his. She stood up, letting her arm drop to her side, and hoped that the shifting light of the braziers would conceal any flush in her cheeks. “Yes?”
“You have a guest,” Lina said. Her eyes remained steady and locked on Liv’s: if she had any thoughts about what she’d seen, there was no indication on the woman’s face. “She says her name is Elder Raija, of the Unconquered House of Kaulris.”
“Let her in, then.” Liv smoothed her skirts.
Rather than obey immediately, the guard hesitated. “It’s just – forgive me, my lady. She’s – well, you’ve never met anyone from House Kaulris before, have you?”
“No.” Liv shook her head.
“I’m not sure that night is the best time to do it.”
“Violence is forbidden here, isn’t it?” Liv asked the dark-skinned elden woman. “I’m certain we’ll be safe. Let her in, please. I’ll speak to her now.” If someone was coming to her, that meant they were at least open to the idea of making some sort of bargain or agreement - and she needed every vote she could get.
Keri rose from the folding camp chair to stand at Liv’s side, though he didn’t have time to pick his cane up from where he’d set it on the floor. Thora had already ducked into her own sleeping area, and dropped the curtain so that she would be out of sight.
After a moment’s delay, and the murmur of voices from outside, a walking piece of night stepped into the pavilion. The impression was only heightened, not spoiled, by the warm, shifting light of the braziers, which revealed not a single inch of bare skin – only a figure shrouded in later upon later of black cloth.
Liv’s own experiences being fitted for gown upon gown let her pick out how the underlayers were of thicker material – perhaps wool, for the northern evenings. But above that were gauzy layers, half transparent, including some mixture of veils and scarves that contrived to conceal even the elder’s eyes from view. And yet, obviously, somehow she still saw: Liv would have felt it if the elder had extended her Authority to encompass the tent.
“Good evening,” Liv said, forcing herself to smile. “And thank you for coming to see me. I am Livara tär Valtteri kæn Syvä, and this is my friend, Inkeris ka Ilmari, of the Unconquered House of Bælris. Would you like a seat, elder?”
“No seat,” the woman in black rasped. Something was wrong with her voice, though Liv couldn’t quite place what, or see what had caused it. Her words were slow, halting, and very carefully pronounced, as if through long practice rather than accustomed ease.
“An offer,” the elder continued. “You wish our support, Lady of Winter? Come and be tested. Come to the house of fear. Show us who you truly are.”
Comments
Andrew Simpson
Spooky chapter for spooky season
Anton Lupanov
"a figure shrouded in later upon later of black cloth" layer upon layer, probably
