“How is she?” Liv asked Arjun.

The two of them, along with Wren, waited in Matthew and Triss’s sitting room, while Aira and Liv's grandmother proceeded into the bedchamber. Liv could hear the murmur of Matthew’s voice, and Mistress Trafford, the castle chirurgeon, in response. Still, as skilled as she knew that Amelia Trafford was, Liv also knew that the older woman didn’t have Arjun’s words of power.

“From what your family’s healer has told me,” Arjun began, “her symptoms are consistent with her past pregnancies. A certain amount of nausea, particularly in the first third of her time carrying the child, is nothing to worry about. It generally passes. But Lady Beatrice can’t keep food down. She’s been surviving on broth, but even that comes up regularly.”

Liv nodded. She could smell the sickly-sweet odor of vomit that seemed to have soaked into the walls, the curtains, and the carpets.

“She’s got hardly any fat left,” Arjun continued. “And I suspect that soon her body is going to start consuming muscle to compensate – if the process hasn’t begun already. None of this is good for the child, and the longer it goes on, the greater chance she loses the baby.”

“Thank you,” Liv said. She patted her friend on his arm, and slipped into the bedchamber.

If things hadn’t been so busy, Matthew and Beatrice should, in theory, have moved into Julianne and Henry’s old rooms by now. Liv was certain that the staff would have already cleaned out the master suite, where generations of Summerset barons had lived during their reigns. Of course, she could also understand her adopted brother’s hesitation: for his entire life, those had been his parents’ chambers.

As the heir, he’d had the second largest set of rooms in Castle Whitehill, but with the number of people now crammed into the bedroom, you’d never have thought it. Triss was in bed, propped up on a veritable wall of pillows. She was wearing a simple linen shift, but her swordbelt and rapier were hanging off the headpost on her side of the bed. Liv could easily picture her sister-in-law casually tossing a loop of the belt there, so that she could grab her rapier immediately upon rising the next morning. It was a reminder of how strong and vital Triss had always been, until now.

Against one wall, not far from the bed, a wooden cradle had been placed. Liv recognized it from when Matthew had been born. Someone had clearly cleaned it, after it had been taken out of storage, for there was not the slightest hint of dust, and the wood had been polished to a healthy glow.

Liv crossed the carpet to where the three older women stood in a cluster, speaking in low tones. Matthew, on the other hand, had pulled a chair up next to his wife, and taken her hand in his.

“What do you think?” Liv asked Aira tär Keria. “Can the enchantments in the ring help her?” She saw that Mistress Trafford was frowning in confusion, but didn’t pause to explain.

Aira and Liv’s grandmother exchanged a glance. “Possibly,” she admitted. “But there is a problem with using that solution. She would need to stay up there for a significant length of time, Livara. She might need to stay until she gives birth. Or, we could move her to a place with a convenient, close at hand waystone. Not half a day’s ride away. And if she spends that long on the ring, she’s going to be exposed to more mana than she can handle.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Liv said. “I’ve had her and Matthew practicing their breathing since we got back to Whitehill. But I’m afraid to bring her to a shoal, so I don’t know if she’ll actually be able to handle it or not.”

Aira slipped into Vakansa. “We’ve resisted teaching that technique for centuries,” the old woman grumbled. “And you’re doing it without even speaking to the elders?”

At the use of the Elden tongue, Amelia Trafford backed away from the conversation, heading out into the sitting room to speak with Arjun.

“I told you she was going to change things,” Liv’s grandmother murmured, in the same language. She had a smile on her face, which gave the impression she was amused at the other elder’s grumbling. “Did you think you would agree with everything my granddaughter did?”

“I thought she’d at least be focused on the enemy in front of her,” Aira groused. “Your father’s waiting for us in Varuna, Livara.”

“I know it,” Liv said. “You really think I don’t? But I need to get things in order here before I can leave.” She nodded her head in the direction of where Matthew leaned in close to his wife, and they exchanged low whispers.

“And one of the things that I need to sort is this. I can’t leave until I know my sister-in-law is going to survive,” Liv insisted. Though she still spoke in Vakansa, she’d inadvertently allowed her voice to become louder, and she caught a look from Matthew.

“I’m guessing,” Liv continued, looking between Aira and her grandmother, “that there’s a technique for keeping mana away from the womb? To protect the child?”

“You introduce small, careful amounts of mana, gradually. It’s needed for bone development, among other things, but you can’t overwhelm the baby. If you’d had an Eldish mother, she would have taught it to you already,” Eila confirmed. “I could have, while you were at Kelthelis with your father those summers.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” Aira asked. The old woman truly seemed to be in a foul mood – perhaps, Liv considered, it had been a mistake to drag her all the way down to Whitehill, rather than take Triss to Al’Fenthia. But it simply hadn’t been practical - any journey at all was a danger in her condition, and Matthew would have insisted on coming.

“Because I knew I had time,” Liv’s grandmother shot back. “I knew she wouldn’t need to know for years, yet. Not for herself, at any rate. I wasn’t thinking of something like this.”

Aira sighed. “If we’d had time to work with her before things got to this point, we could have taught your sister,” she stated. “As it is now? I wouldn’t trust her to get it right the first time, and if she makes a mistake, it's the child who will suffer the consequences.”

“There has to be some way to get her up to the ring safely,” Liv insisted. “Or we could take one of the tables and bring it down here. Perhaps Sidonie and I could figure out a way to power it with mana stones.”

“And risk destroying one?” Aira said, her tone sharp as a knife. “No. Those tables are irreplaceable.”

“So is my sister,” Liv said. She turned to her grandmother. “Could you use that spell to protect the child? The combination of Cel and Dā?”

“Not on the child alone,” Eila answered. “It would probably kill them both. The mother’s body is connected to the infant’s - freezing the baby would cause damage I don’t want to even think about to her internal organs. We would have to cast it on them both, at once. To preserve them as a unit, bring them up to the ring, and then release the spell.”

“But you could do it?” Liv pressed.

“Yes.” Her grandmother nodded.

Aila sighed. “That’s your family’s magic, not mine,” the old woman admitted. “I’ll be of no use to you. Let me know when you’ve finished.” She turned about and left the bedchamber, pushing past Arjun and Mistress Trafford at the doorway.

Liv stepped up to the bed and switched back to speaking Lucanian. “My grandmother is able to help,” she said.

Matthew looked up from Beatrice’s side, and the look of hope in his eyes just about broke Liv’s heart. What might have been worse was that, next to him, Triss hardly responded at all. Her own gaze remained dull, as if she’d already consigned herself to the idea there was nothing that could be done at all.

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“What do you intend to do?” Mistress Trafford asked, stepping back into the room. Arjun followed her, and Liv got a glimpse of Wren positioning herself in the doorway.

“There is a place that contains ancient Vædic healing enchantments,” Liv explained. “We are going to travel there by waystone. We can leave from Bald Peak. The difficulty is that the place we’re going is saturated with a great deal of mana.”

“Like a shoal?” Matthew frowned. “The guild doesn’t let pregnant mages go culling for good reason, Liv.”

“Just like a shoal,” Liv agreed, nodding. “That’s why we’re going to use a spell to protect Triss and the baby during the journey. Once we get up there, the enchantments themselves should manage the mana flow through her body.” That particular piece of information came courtesy of Rose, and the memory brought a sharp, stabbing pain to Liv’s belly. She’d been unconscious when Liv put her on one of those enchanted tables, and Rosamund had never been good about dealing with dense mana while she was awake. If the enchantments hadn’t handled it for her, she would have died of mana sickness on the table.

“What spell?” Triss asked. It was the first time she’d spoken since Liv had stepped into the room. “Will it be safe for the baby?” Discover more novels at N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

“It is a combination of two words of power,” Liv’s grandmother explained. “My family’s word – Dā – and Cel.”

“You’re talking about an archmage spell,” Matthew realized.

“The Eld don’t really think of things that way,” Liv explained. “There are a lot of multi-word spells recorded. People choose their second word with that in mind, most of the time.” Something that she, at least, had not done.

Matthew blinked. “Are you telling me there are Elden archmages? I always thought the only archmages were Lucanian…”

“Lucania is the only place that has formal requirements and a title to go with them,” Liv’s grandmother said. “But if you’re asking whether there are Eld who can cast two or three word spells - yes. Plenty, including every elder. This particular bit of magic I am well practiced with. Your wife and her child will be frozen inside a block of ice, perfectly preserved. For them, time will not pass. We will move the block of ice to where she will be treated, and end the spell there.”

“But you haven’t even explained what this treatment will be,” Mistress Trafford protested. “Or what this Vædic magic is going to do. I need more details to judge whether this actually has a chance of working.”

“It does,” Arjun said, with quiet confidence. “I’ve seen the enchantments Liv is talking about. Twice now. It’s the most advanced healing magic I’ve ever seen - the enchantments integrate at least three words of power.”

“I still don’t –”

It was Triss herself who cut Amelia Trafford off, the second time.

“While I’m frozen,” she said. “I can’t lose my baby?”

“No,” Liv’s grandmother said. “You can’t.”

And yet, it was Liv’s eyes that Triss sought out for comfort.

“I’ve personally seen a man frozen for almost forty years,” Liv said, approaching the bed to take Triss’ hand in her own. “He was dying when the spell was cast, and when we took him out, it was like no time had passed at all. We had healers waiting, and he was fine. It’s safe. I promise you.”

“Alright then,” Beatrice said. “I’ll do it.”

☙

It wasn’t quite that simple, of course.

For one thing, Matthew insisted on accompanying his wife, and Liv couldn’t really blame him. If he was going to be on the ring – for however long this treatment took – and Liv was going to accompany them, that meant someone needed to be left in charge back in Whitehill, and the options were limited.

The mayor and sheriff could run the town itself, for the most part, and had done so in the past - during the family’s stay in Freeport, for instance. However, when they’d all made that trip, they hadn’t just been coming out of a war, however abortive and short lived. Now, while Liv was reasonably confident she’d negotiated a peace that would hold at least for a while, there was also the matter of Ractia’s cult, both on the eastern continent of Isvara, and across the ocean in Varuna. Someone needed to be left behind who could take decisive action in the event it was needed, even Liv was only planning to stay on the ring long enough to be certain her sister-in-law was delivered safely. And to check on Keri, she could admit to herself.

Keri, in fact, would have been one of her first choices. He’d spent decades hunting the cult of Ractia, knew how to command troops, was fluent in both Lucanian and Vakansa, and was one of the few Eld who’d visited the south even before the alliance was formed. Blood and Shadows, he’d addressed the great council in Freeport! And Liv knew she could trust him.

Unfortunately, he was already up on the ring. Even in the best case, if she went up there and found him completely recovered, Keri wouldn’t be where she needed him. Ghveris wasn’t really an option: though the Antrian was no doubt capable of commanding an army, he was still working to master Lucanian, and hadn’t built relationships outside of the tight-knit party who’d found him in the Tomb of Celris.

Rose was gone. Arjun would insist on coming with his patient. Wren could lead her own people, but Liv doubted the Eld had forgotten that she was a turncloak. Master Grenfell was still recovering from his wounds, Guild Mistress Every had her hands full organizing classes for what was essentially a brand new guild, and many of the Elden officers were already making the journey with their troops, through the waystone at Bald Peak to Varuna, to link up with Liv’s father.

There was really only one option.

“Me?” Sidonie laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Liv.”

“I’m not.” Liv had snared her friend away from fiddling with the dream wards that she and Rose had placed on the curtain walls around the courtyard, and practically dragged her off to where a wagon was being hitched to a team of horses. Kaija trailed along in their wake, alert to any threat. “Matthew’s already insisted on going with Triss, and I can’t really blame him. I don’t intend to be on the ring long, but no matter what I need someone in charge here for a day or so. I know it isn’t what you’d prefer to do, but the list of people who are capable, trustworthy, and not already somewhere else has gotten remarkably short.”

“One of the reasons I went to Coral Bay is that I’m absolutely atrocious at telling anyone else what to do,” Sidonie protested. “You know me, Liv. Give me a stack of books and ask me to work out a problem, that’s one thing. But I can’t be in charge while you’re gone.”

“You can, and you will,” Liv insisted. “Just until I get back. Listen to Master Grenfell, listen to the stewards. I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone, and you’ll be fine.” She gave her friend a grin, a pat on the back, and then marched forward toward the wagon.

Mistress Trafford, Arjun, Matthew, Liv’s grandmother, and even Master Grenfell were all present. The old mage had brought, apparently, nearly every student who’d agreed to take classes with the new guild, and they were all clustered around with notebooks open.

“What is this?” Liv asked, once she was within earshot.

“A practical lesson,” Grenfell answered. “Most of them have never seen an archmage spell cast before, and it's doubtful they’ll have another opportunity anytime soon.”

Liv considered shooing them all away, but he wasn’t wrong. Instead, she climbed up into the wagon, where Triss was lying down on a bed of blankets. She was wrapped in a warm winter cloak, and had her rapier at her side, in its leather sheath. “You ready down there?” Liv asked her.

Triss nodded. “This had better not hurt, Liv.”

“Says the girl who loves nothing more than rolling around on a courtyard wrestling and getting hit with a practice sword,” Liv teased her.

“I do the hitting,” Triss shot back. “I don’t get hit.”

Liv laughed. “One thing, big sis. I notice none of your family is here. I would have assumed your mother would want to be around, at the very least, if they knew you were having a hard pregnancy. You haven’t told them, have you?”

“You think I want my mother here?” Triss glared at her. “You’ve met the woman, Liv. You should know better.”

Liv let her smile slip off her face. “I’ll see you when we get there,” she promised. “Just like going to sleep, and then waking up again.” At least, that was how her grandmother had explained the feeling. Liv hadn’t ever experienced it for herself.

She jumped back down from the wagon bed, and walked over to where Eila was waiting.

“Are you prepared, granddaughter?” the older woman asked. The spring breeze caught a lock of that deep blue hair, and tossed it about.

“I’m ready,” Liv said. “But I’m not the one casting. Are you?”

Her grandmother laughed. “Stand in front of me and give me your hands, child. It’s past time you began learning this.”

Together, they shuffled around until they were standing at the foot of the wagon together. Eila took Liv’s hands in hers, almost embracing her from behind. “Close your eyes,” Liv’s grandmother murmured in her ear. “Easier to feel, that way. The first step is to hold both words of power in your mind at once, but that isn’t enough.”

Cel and Dā stirred at the back of Liv’s mind, as if in kinship with the magic she felt building around her grandmother. Liv didn’t try to actually use either of them: all she could think of was the crater that had been left in the earth when she’d tried to use an archmage spell during the battle at the pass.

“Your conception of the magic must be unified,” Eila told her. “You are not combining two things. You are understanding a single, joined vision. There is no separation between the words. Feel it.”

Mana poured out from Liv’s grandmother, running down her arms and dancing around Liv’s skin. The tiny hairs on her forearms stood on end, and the spell reached out for Triss with a level of precision and control that Liv found stunning. Her grandmother wasn’t even using an invocation – she was casting an archmage spell silently!

The first sign was a puff of breath from Triss’s mouth. Frost traced along her skin, her hair, the hilt of her sword, and then ice bloomed around her, building up so rapidly that, before Liv had entirely realized it was happening, her sister-in-law was surrounded by a block of clear ice.