Part #4

The Rifter's rays sinking into the sea pried open my eyes, the slight headache turning to a raging one as I blinked to clear the sleep from them, giving testament to the over indulgence of wine earlier that turn. I looked out through the stone arches surrounding the sleeping chamber and over the beaches of Iscax. I imagined Valorn over there somewhere, past the endless span of water. In truth though I did not know in which direction my home lay. Conner and I had come through the doorway like everyone else. We had come on business, the negotiation of wine prices. He had been so very eager to show me around the city, I had been loath to tell him I had been there before.

Thorne had taken me here, the first time for both of us I believe, though perhaps he had simply pretended the city was new to him as I did now for Conner. No, pretending such things was not Thorne. Thorne has always been my constant, he has stuck by me even when I had first come, even through my shock at his being a bastard, even through my darkness. He remains the most exacting and demanding mentor I had ever had, and I have had many. Always carefully drawing me out, shaping me into the full potential that he insists on seeing. I had slipped away while he slept the next turn, heading to the Muriel Long Bridge in a failed attempt to seduce the guard there to let me pass. Then I had left Ethucan early, rushing through the doorway just in time for Iso and Alyssa's bonding ceremony. Thorne had stayed, for many turns...and when he returned there was a silence there, a part he would not share with me. It was the beginning of a rift that only seemed to widen. Secrets.

As I shed my clothing and walked into the deep, warm recessed bath I thought back to the dinner with my parents nearly a half-cycle ago. Despite the passage of time, and the near constant entertainment provided by our travels, I found thinking of it often. I don't know what I had been seeking, some sort of vindication or at the very least forgiveness. I had imagined regaling them with my accomplishments, proving that others had found be worthy whereas they hadn't....and I now knew likely never would. I suppose, in a way, I had found what I was seeking...the knowledge that what they thought simply didn't matter to me any longer.

I had fixed my eyes on Conner as I walked towards the table, on the deep green eyes that I used to find so soothing. He had stood, stepping to meet me part way. Always the gentleman. I had given him a genuine smile, his letters still fresh in my mind, seasons and cycles of letters. We had been unofficially betrothed since early childhood. Through the cycles, he had always sent me details of his travels...his life. Unlike me, who seldom was allowed outside the manse, young Conner accompanied his father on various business. Oft times he would include a gift or trinket, a pouch from Fartown, or fruit from Kilican. I had loved him for those brief glimpses of the world that was outside my reach, loved him still, although now I could get myself all the trinkets I desired.  

He had still smelled the same, a pleasant mingling of spices and ink. His short honey hair had receded a bit more and he still was more soft than sculpted. Yet as he alone rose to greet me his face was one of the dearest I had ever seen.  All things must end though and I stepped from the momentary shelter of his presence to turn and face my father. Formality is a shield of mine. I throw it up like a mask whenever I get nervous. Or I giggle inanely. Or I am flippant...I am a woman of many shields.  Fortunately, it was the first reaction that came now and I dipped a curtsy to my father. Of course, I couldn't think of one blasted thing to say along with the curtsy.  But it was a nice curtsy none the less. 

I had always called him 'Father' in the past. Then he disowned me, now apparently he was re-owning me, and I was at a complete loss as to how to address him. Naming him Father now rankled me too much to let the word cross my lips. Brisingr was more a father to me than this man. Bris, who had so patiently tracked me down in all the various places I had managed to get myself in those early turns. Who had made me the portal to Altitan the turn I decided pounding on the door was a brilliant plan. It hadn't been, and yet even after the boulder crushed me, even after the censure from others....he still made me another portal there the very next turn. Eventually, it was Bris who had pinned the golden dragon to my cloak.

"Viviyana, so nice of you to grace us with your presence." My sort-of father's words had brought a twist to my lips. It was nice to know that he hadn't lost his snide tone, his sarcasm. It made things easier, and a bit more fun. 

"Good evening, Edmund." I had said, finally finding my tongue and coating it in my most syrupy sweet voice. A tingling rush of power had coursed through me at the use of his name, such power is in names, and the naming of others. Sigarni knew this. She named others all manner of things, though out of affection. Kariel knew this as well. I had been rewarded with a slight reddening of his face, his ire had washed up his neck and narrowed his already somewhat beady eyes. 

My mother had chimed in with a reproachful, "Viviyana, show some respect." She had always had this way of knowing when he was about to blow, probably the red face, and had a habit of trying to stave off his words by injecting her own. 

I had turned my oh so pleasant smile and another curtsy in her direction, "Mother, you are looking as lovely as ever this evening. And I shall forthwith call him Man-who-tossed-me-out, if it pleases you."  I smiled even more sweetly, she didn't. Poor Conner had hastily pulled out one of the dark high backed chairs for me, placing a hand on my elbow in some desperate attempt to guide me into it. I was gracious and had let him. 

"So, Viv, tell me about your travels." Conner had asked, as if I had been off on vacation somewhere. That was the moment I had been waiting for, all these many cycles. That chance to tell them all how I hadn't been broken, how I had prevailed. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of where to start. There was just so very much. Should I tell them of the Gates of the Many, of how we had all come together to place the massive doors in the midst of wave after wave of demon attacks? Or of the Dark Fortress and how the Knights had led us to rescue our queen? Should I speak of the Remnants and the family I had found there? The songs of the guardians and the other wonders I had beheld. The place beyond darkness that had seeped into my soul? The bronze that haunted my dreams? The Order, Altitan, the Seals, Furfuz, Myna, Cenny, Synvasti, Thorne....I mean really how does one boil all that down to some trivial conversation over dinner. 

I had finally decided on fishing. Who can find fault with that topic after all? Strangely enough, even after all this time, teaching myself to fish is still one of those accomplishments I am most proud of. Conner is a fan of fishing as well and I had regaled him with my many experiments. I told him of my early contraptions, a pole with many lines tied to it flung into the lake, followed by a handful of worms. Later, I had tried spear fishing, and I had shared with him my worry about the demon spear lodged somewhere in the bottom of the Caer lake. I told him of the crabthing, really the only creature I had managed to catch, in reality the blasted thing had caught me. Of my final attempt to blow the fish out of water with fireworks. And surprisingly the conversation flowed. I remembered the comfort he had always given me, well almost always. His letters had always given me hope. This knowledge that there was a world out there that I would explore one turn. Conner had been my comfort that evening.

Conner and I had narrowed the conversation to one between the two of us and soon found ourselves alone in the dinning room. I hadn't even really noticed when they had left, surprisingly hadn't cared. The last time I had been alone with Conner had been twelve cycles ago, in the courtyard. It was the eve of our betrothal dinner, to which fifty of our fathers' various friends and associates had been invited to. Our upcoming bonding was now official, and he had kissed me. And it had been one of the scariest moments of my life, as well as unpleasant. The man could use some lessons. In the Remnants there is a joke about me kissing a rat-fish. I confessed it as my first kiss, and had even created little stories around the meaning of it. But the truth was it was that kiss I was referring to, and this man who had sat beside me during dinner, defending every word of mine. I really could be a little shit sometimes. He deserves better.

I used to be filled with fear, and with little knowledge or tools with which to deal with it. Conner had ended the kiss, oblivious to my reaction and sweetly promised me further kisses, deeper kisses after the dinner was over. I, of course, had reacted as any sane person would have and convinced James, the cook's boy to slip a purgative in Conner's soup that fateful night so long ago. I now knew more of herbs and poisons, and realize that the dose I had slipped him could have resulted in much worse that his humiliation and my banishment. At the time I was a silly, frightened girl who thought that more was better than less. He made it all the way to the dessert course before losing the contents of his stomach out of both ends. James had bolted, and rather than let him take the blame I had confessed...leaving his part out of it. I still remember my father's fists and then boot crashing against me over and over and then Cedric had been there, pulling me up. He had taken me from the house at my father's demands. My father's parting words to me had been his insistence that his name was no longer mine to use. And so I became just Viviyana.

Pulling myself from my spiraling memories I stood and wrapped one of the thick bath sheets around me as I left the water, walking to the large arched windows. I wondered if I could see them out there, the light of the lanterns filling the sky. Far from the shores of Ethucan, Frost Fall was ending. Somewhere across that water all those I had come to love were writing their hopes on lanterns and sending them up to the Gods. I whispered my own hope, letting it drift up to join with theirs, praying that the Gods could still hear me.