Chapter Eleven

  “To open one’s house to a guest is to embrace the life and company of another. There is happiness to be found in both their presence and their absence.”

  – Vorryn Silvers, Owner of the Wealthfire Inn

  ~*~

  “I did it,” Liv said with a shaky smile.

  Her heart was still racing, but opening her book and confirming her advancement had taken the edge off the sudden rush. Warmth radiated through her chest and somewhere deep, she felt her connection to the arcane spring grow a little stronger. Her reserve expanded as well, but only just. If what she had sensed before was comparable to a teacup, she now had access to something closer to the kettle.

  “Congratulations on your first advancement,” Kaedric said, offering her his first full grin. The expression was so unrestrained, it almost appeared out of place.

  “Thanks,” she said, “I have to say, I wasn’t expecting so many selections. I had four to start, one at what I’m assuming was the midpoint between orders and now I have another. Is that normal?”

  “For your first three orders, yes. However, after your third, you receive four selections for every skill tier you achieve and one for the orders in between.”

  She tilted her head in thought, “Does that mean I’ll gain another selection halfway through my second and third?”

  He nodded.

  “Seven selections for seven skills,” she hummed, “Seems these gods of yours wanted everyone to have a solid foundation.”

  “I’ve known plenty of people who chose to ignore the base skills in favor of holding off for the more flashy ones down the line, but they’re often the most important regardless of your order. Some of them may not sound all that impressive now, but they build over time. Remember that.”

  “My spiritbook mentioned something to that effect before in relation to my read energy skill. Something about being able to determine aspects? You wouldn’t happen to know what it meant, would you?”

  “I’m assuming you’d be able to read the energy’s alignment. If it was associated with fire or earth, for instance,” he said, “aspect typically refers to the nature of something.”

  “Huh. And it builds passively?”

  “Most skills do as you advance.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” she said, tapping a finger along the edge of her book in thought, “Let me see my skill tree again.”

  Kaedric leaned over as the chart flowed across the page.

  You have one selection available.

  “The skills with the little flowers blooming along the edges are the ones you’ve already selected, right?” He asked.

  “So far, yeah. They’re a neat little touch, right?”

  “More exciting than mine,” he said, studying what options she had left.

  At her current skill tier, she had one remaining skill and one prerequisite to choose from. She briefly considered banking the selection for later, but was more inclined to take Kaedric’s advice and fill out her first order in its entirety. The only question was, did she choose detect decay or energy transduction this time around?

  “Would you say a skill is more important than a prerequisite?”

  “At your current stage? The skill. Are you looking at detect decay?” He asked.

  “I’ve considered it before,” she said with an absent nod.

  “Unlocking another skill like that gives you access to another ability for you to train.”

  “And another means of progressing toward the next order,” she said, following his line of thought.

  “Exactly. There’s nothing you can do with energy transduction, right now. Save it for your next selection.”

  “Detect decay it is,” she said, admiring the way the tiny purple flowers bloomed around the skill as she made her choice.

  All available selections have been made.

  Liv’s skin prickled, though she didn’t feel all that different with the introduction of the ability. Which she decided to take as a good thing. After all, there was no decay. That might change, given time, but for now, everything within her little sphere of detection was healthy.

  She sat back, rather pleased as she dismissed her book, until her stomach gave an audible growl. She pressed a hand to it in an effort to quell the rumbling, but her attempt only seemed to antagonize her appetite. Her cheeks burned as she looked to Kaedric.

  “Sorry.”

  He chuckled as he rose, “I’d say it’s time for breakfast. Are you all right with something simple?”

  “Simple’s often best,” she said, watching him pluck the edibles she’d sorted from the table, “What would you like me to do with the medicinals?”

  “You can move them to the other side of the table, for now. I’ll show you how to prepare and store them later.”

  “As in after breakfast?” She asked hopefully.

  “There’s someone I wanted you to meet first, but we can start after, if you like,” he said, going about his business in the kitchen.

  “Is it the new horse?” She asked.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Saw that, did you? I was hoping you were still asleep when I got back.”

  She grimaced, “Did I ruin the surprise?”

  “I didn’t think it would be much of a shock, given we discussed the matter last night, but I thought it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to that isn’t Kelsa or myself.”

  “I can’t say I’ve ever considered having a conversation with a horse,” she said.

  “You might try it sometime. They understand more than most people give them credit for. She’s yours, at the very least. I think you’ll find she’s good company.”

  Maybe she would.

  “Does she have a name?” She wondered.

  “Ember,” he said, “But you can change it to whatever you like.”

  “I wouldn’t say it's a bad name, but I suppose I’ll see if it suits her once I meet her,” she said, glancing through one of the windows as if she might see the mare.

  “Do you think you can make the walk?” He asked as he distributed a set of bowls and silverware.

  “So long as I’m not barefoot, I should be fine.”

  The jar of mixed grains and seeds he set upon the table next reminded her of the muesli her foster father always insisted on buying in place of the usual sugar-packed cereal everyone else ate. Were those dried blueberries she spied? He set a glass milk bottle beside it as well as a small bowl of honey. As far as breakfast went, she hadn’t been expecting this.

  “The fit might be off, but I have a spare set of boots you can borrow until we find you something more suitable in the city,” he said, finally taking his seat after he set a final plate of sliced wild plums upon the table.

  “Between the bandage wrap and the socks, I don’t think the extra room will be an issue,” she said.

  Kaedric glanced toward the pair of boots he’d left by the door, “You may be right, on that account.”

  “You’re not planning on having me ride, are you?”

  “Not for a few days, at least.”

  She relaxed a little as she reached for the cereal, “Something tells me I’ll have plenty of saddle time in my future.”

  “You wanted me to teach you what I know. Are you sure you’re up for the commitment?”

  “Are you sure you’re willing to teach me?”

  “I’ve humored you this long, haven’t I?”

  “You have,” she said, “I’m not pressuring you, though, am I?”

  “What makes you think you are?” He asked.

  “Well, you’ve only known me for about a day and you’ve already bought me a horse and from what I can tell, a new saddle. Those aren’t exactly small things, you know?”

  “I know it was quite some time ago, at this point, but I was raised to respect my guests, not bow to them, Miss Lockhard. You’re not pressuring me, as you say,” he said, “If it helps put your mind at ease, though, I’ve been considering buying a companion for Kelsa for the past few months. Your arrival gave me the excuse I was looking for. As for the saddle, it’s a necessity, in your case. You have no business riding bareback.”

  In a way, it did help.

  “You do your parents proud,” she said thoughtfully, “are they . . . still around? What with the whole immortal thing?”

  “They both passed a few years before the surgence.”

  “Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. Had I known–”

  “There’s no need to apologize. I came to terms with everything decades ago, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  A part of her still felt guilty, so she offered, “I’m not sure if it counts, but my foster father passed away a few years ago. He was my only real family.”

  His brow furrowed, “Foster? May I ask what happened to your parents?”

  “They gave me up for adoption when I was a few days old. I couldn’t really tell you anything about them even if I wanted to.”

  “My condolences. I . . . my wife and I had been trying for a babe for years before the surgence. I can’t imagine giving them up willingly,” he said.

  Her lips thinned as she stared into her bowl, but she’d been down this road of what-ifs before and always ended up disappointed. The absence of her parents was an old wound. One she’d rather not reopen. She had more than enough to deal with at present.

  “Everyone has their reasons, I suppose,” she said, though stopped when she took a moment to think about what he’d said.

  She could only imagine what could have transpired after two hundred years, yet her gut told her . . .

  “Where are they now?” She wondered, though feared she already knew the answer, to some extent.

  “My wife and I went our separate ways a long time ago,” he said evenly.

  Liv watched him for a moment, but knew when to stop prodding at a particular topic. She wasn’t the only one with old wounds. She was surprised he’d shared as much as he had, really. However, the same could be said of her. She rarely, if ever, talked about her parents. They hadn’t crossed her mind in years.

  Perhaps for good reason.

  What was the point in missing someone you’d never met or couldn’t remember?

  Mentally, she checked herself before she travelled any further down that particular path.

  “You did it again, you know,” she said, deciding they were both looking for an excuse to change topics.

  “What?”

  “You called me Miss Lockhard,” she hummed.

  He cracked a smile, “My apologies, Liv.”

  “Apology accepted. Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?” She said with a wink.

  “No promises.”

  She shrugged, “One day, you’ll get it right. Save the formalities for the city.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Mmm. Good. What’s it like, anyway?” She asked.

  “Ralencia?

  She nodded.

  “It’s a port city and the largest for several hundred miles. Prior to the surgence and the reunification, it was the capital of Ilythia. Though these days, it’s more a trade city than anything. There’s plenty to see and buy, but there are far too many people, if you ask me. I only ever go there if I have to, these days.”

  A trade city sounded promising. There had to be more than a few people willing to buy tempered arcana, right? If they could find the more discreet buyers Kaedric had alluded to knowing, she’d at least be able to earn some stable funds of her own.

  “If I had a home in a place like this, I imagine I’d be much the same,” she said.

  “Like I told you before, no one bothers me here.”

  She held her hands up, “Hey, I get it. I support the whole mountain man schtick. I’ve considered disappearing to go live in the middle of nowhere a time or two myself.”

  “You have? Where is it you live now, then?”

  “San Fransisco,” she said, “I wouldn’t say it's anything special, but it has its fair share of beaches. And tourists, unfortunately. It had a pretty diverse food scene, though.”

  “That reminds me, you mentioned working for a catering company. Were you a chef of some sort?” He asked.

  “Me? No. I may have had my aspirations, but I was just one of the waitresses. Hence the sequin nightmare of a dress you found me in.”

  He gave a soft snort, “I still find it hard to believe that was a dress.”

  “It’s a cocktail dress. It’s meant to reveal that much skin. Helped with the tips.”

  “Tips?”

  She pursed her lips, wondering how to explain it to someone who had never heard the term before.

  “I guess it's a reward, of sorts. If you enjoy someone’s service, you give them a small monetary token of your appreciation. At least, that used to be how tipping worked. These days, you’re expected to tip for just about everything. I’m surprised it hasn’t been implemented into the self check-out lines at the store,” she admitted.

  He chuckled, “I see. Even if I don’t quite understand about half of what you said.”

  “Instead of paying for your groceries in person, most people pay a machine,” she offered.

  He shuddered.

  “Remind me never to visit,” he said.

  “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  The irony of her statement was not lost to her. Here she was, trying to find a way to return. And for what, exactly? Her plants? She had no family to return to. No friends, outside her coworkers. For better or worse, she’d always been on her own. Not aimless, but solitary. Was that life really something she wanted to go back to?

  In a way, this . . . this could be a fresh start.