It was morning again, and mother was putting more ointment on me.

"If only I was there beside you," she whispered as she dabbed the cream on. I could have told her it wasn't her fault, but she would probably just blame herself more.

She handled me like a fragile statue that could break at any moment, but I didn't have much I could say about that either. I just spent most of the last day and night waking up in feverish pain.

If I stayed too still, the throb in my limbs from the pounding of the horses and the desperate crawl away from Nistan threatened to grow and engulf me. If I tried to turn over, a fire seared over healing slashes in my skin.

It was particularly my left leg though where I felt pain whenever I moved it. I grit my teeth, however, in dark amusement as I thought of how that pain was what let me get Nistan off me as I cast my first unstructured spell in the middle of that exchange.

Ever since the first night, when I fell asleep because I couldn't stay awake, it had become a lot harder.

Although I could sleep because of the strange cloud of haziness that enveloped my head, it was hard to ever relax.

It only got worse after mother had brought in Karbrol, the middle-aged guard from the ipocond's retinue to look at that wound. Apparently he had some experience with setting bones.

He put a wooden splint on my leg, which he wrapped around with cloth.

It had hurt so bad when he squeezed on my leg, putting the bone back in place. I had passed out on the spot and didn't even see him do the rest. When I awoke though, my leg had been wrapped in a bundle of linens and I was told not to move it under any circumstances.

For days on days, I slept more and ate less than I used to, and unfortunately had to learn yet again to endure dirty linens and their changing, since I couldn't use the chamber pot in this condition.

Mother and Ivian would take turns in my room. It seemed they weren't giving much time to hosting mother's father despite his lingering presence at the manor.

Fortunately, my angel Ivian had thought up another genius idea to help me.

She brought in a miniature water mill, that apparently Sir Barker had helped her make. It was really just two buckets, one on top the other, with a small wooden wheel in the middle that would go...

Swish-swish-swish-swish

I don't know why, but listening to the whirring wood and splashing water do the same thing over and over again was nice. It stopped my crying and even sometime let me sleep peacefully for a moment here or there.

I received another gift too, though I never saw it.

The ipocond had once come to the room, and insisted on seeing my helpless form before he departed Olwick. Apparently mother had made it quite clear that as soon as Pricel was somewhat better, she expected them to leave.

Father seemed much more forgiving towards his father-in-law, but he did not get into mother and the ipocond's affairs.

The ipocond brought a small glass vial of water with an orange tinge that he said would help with the pain. It was a beautiful vial, shaped like a bulb. It was seemingly made of clear glass, but painted with thin black branches and red dots for leaves.

Instead of giving it to me though, Ivian had taken it with a smile and put it to the side. As soon as mother's father had left, she had gone to her room and I heard her dragging a porcelain and then a splish of water from behind the door. Did she suddenly have to make pee?

I only found out later when mother asked what it was that it had been filled with whiskey.

My mother's father's good intentions seem to have been lost on Ivian and mother who were angry that he would have tried to give me such a thing.

I felt somewhat wistful myself. What harm could a few drops of this stuff have done wrong? Sure, I didn't know what whiskey was, but mother had mentioned that it might have actually reduced the pain. Anything was welcome that gave me a good stretch of sleep. But I decided not to say anything on the matter, for all I knew, perhaps it was a kind of poison.

Again, I lamented that in this village there was not a single proper mage. Do they keep all the mages who can heal in the capital?

Swish-swish-swish-swish

Still, I couldn't hold it against Ivian as I drifted off into another dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They say that there once lived a race of giant velikan," Mother started to tell another tall tale, even though she looked and sounded exhausted.

I have suspicions that she is skipping on sleep to take care of me, while still doing all that needs to be done by her in the manor.

"They were part beast and part man, descendants maybe of mammoths or behemoths," she spoke, not thinking, perhaps, of the implications. "Wooly hair grew on their chests, even the women's, and tusks they had curving up in front of their faces."

"So strong and big these ogres were that they pulled veins of metal right out of the mountains and crushed them in their bare hands."

That was indeed pretty fearsome, I thought, seeing the giants pound their fists into mountains in time with the throbbing in my head.

"This was a time long before Efeles, and even before the King Iben Mershunt founded the Kingdom of Farrand. It was not men who ruled here, but the savage velikan from their giant, superterranean caves."

It must have been a couple weeks now that I had been kept in bed, mother growing a bit less panicked at my discoloured skin and fractured leg. Seeing that I was still alive, she simply made time to be by my side and would tell stories or sometimes play on a flute for me.

"That was until the first ancestors from the clan of Ibolidor came. They were horsemen and nomads, drawn by the northern trade. They came here to the forests and hills to build forts and castles, and fought to hold their ground."

"But it was not easy to fight the velikans who ate their women and babies and could crush warriors between their hands."

"Then, a man was born to the Ibolidor clan. He was one among many of the failing clan who sought refuge in the Southern lands. They say he travelled across the land but never forgot the giant velikans that ate his kin. So he sought a teacher to learn to fight. First a warrior..." mother said and slowed down, "a warrior who wished," she was pausing as she spoke, looking at me with eyes closing, "to teach him the sword..."

For a moment, I grew worried, thinking she could be ill, but steady breathing and a peaceful countenance indicated she had just fallen asleep.

Did these velikans really exist? It was hard to know. I may have dismissed them out of hand just a few days ago, before I had seen the shriekers. Nasty things, both the birds and Drim, robbed of his sanity, I still know not how.

I think the caves mother was talking about, where these velikans lived, made by bending giant veins of metal with their bare hands must be the ruins. That seemed wrong.

I felt awe at the memories of a stage, lights and the music that I listened to in my mind during that day in captivity.

Still, the only thing to suggest the domes might have been the concert stages of my delusions were the fact they were round. The rivulets of water, both from the rain and the ground and the lush verdant floor that made that cave were nothing if not natural. Who could say if velikans didn't build it as an abode?

I didn't really know what to make of these strange memories.

I would have to ask mother to finish the story sometime.

I held out a hand to reach through the cradle, but hers were to far, so I just smiled and said good night and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Motheerr!" I whined thought it was a shout in my mind, waking up to sweat and pain.

At night, I often had dreams.

They weren't the hazy snippets of another world, but dreams of darkness, of rain and of peril.

Like all nightmares, they started calm.

The dining table was its familiar shield shape. Mother and father were sitting down, as always, to eat.

But as mother leaned over to take a bite of meat, blood dripped slowly off her chin and then she started to scream.

Looking up at me, with front teeth growing and eyes turned red as blood, mother's sudden transformation into a shrieking monster left me shaking and disoriented as I woke again.

And thus did days pass, the ointments reapplied every day. Ointments that, I was quite certain, had no effect except to prove a chilly, slimy distraction from the aches and sores of my body itself.

One day, not too long after my convalescence, father entered the room.

"Dear, is everything alright? What about the hunt?" Mother asked in surprise.

"Saul has taken a few of the men. We haven't come across anything big the past week. It should be fine," father explained, "I went with Saul to the village, but the peddler stopped by recently and Gregrick handed me a letter he had received for me. It's from my sister, Marian."

I felt my hand rising towards my face but suppressed the urge to scratch my eye.

"Lady Marian? Did father and Pricel get back to the capital safely? I maybe shouldn't have been so angry with father..." father lightly shook his head, "Is it about the kidnapping then?"

"You needn't worry, my dear, she didn't say anything about your father and Pricel. I would expect them to be back at your father's residence in Seventhill."

"But what did Lady Marian - I suppose I should say Lady Yse now? - have to say?"

Father flourished a folded paper atop a heavy cloth envelope. What stood out most was the heavy seal of tallow on the seam. In it, was a familiar impression of a signet.

For the first time in months, since I started to recover, I saw scenes of the strange other world I had been beginning to forget. In it, the signet rings, coat of arms engraved in metal bands appeared in my mind.

There was an orb of light, the ones called virspheres that people carried over their hands. It floated on top of a desk, in front of a plump but officious looking man. Behind him, tassels of military banners hung from the walls. I was pressing a signet ring into the centre of that sphere and it glowed and changed in front of me.

Another huge room, filled with fridges and shelves of foods in containers where I swiped the ring past a strip of plastic.

Yet again, this time, I kissed the ring on my own finger, standing in a line with my team, across from my opponent, doing the same. We were dressed in the duel clothes and standing in the military campus field.

The shape of the coat of arms seemed so familiar, and yet, I couldn't make any connection between the signet rings and lumps of wax on the back of an envelope. Why would such a familiar tool be used so differently?

"The short of it is that my sister suspects someone in the family," father said somewhat grimly. "I am not sure how she heard of the debacle, it is possible her fiance's father Cond Yse invited Ipocond Phrans and Marian together, so that she could hear news of us. Regardless, Marian speaks of a difficult situation for the sijony."

Mother listened but also looked at the letter now in her hands.

"Tilly, would you prefer if we talked about this in another room? I do not want to frighten you."

I shook my head just once to either side. I was somewhat frightened but I'd much rather be frightened than ignorant.

"Cianna, he is not even two years old," my father stated, quite convinced I wouldn't really understand.

"You think that he does not understand simply because of his age?" My mother asked somewhat accusingly, "you do not know anything about Tilly, do you."

"I admit I have not spent all that much time with our son, but, my dear, you do not have to be unreasonable," my father said defensively. "I will come by more often," he added after another moment.

Taking that as a reasonable concession, my mother veered back to the letter and events in the capital, "we knew this day would come, Sivis. Your father is only getting older. It is no surprise the succession is in crisis, especially now, 7 years after you have been put outside of it."

"He is not so old that he cannot visit his new friend, the Elafoz," my father said with a certain hint of disdain. "Still filled with delusions but afraid of the King."

"That he is still healthy only makes it worse. Those vultures are going to be ripping pieces out of him and the estate for years."

Mother flipped through another page of the letter.

"Lady Yse says he is prone to tantrums, often shouting at his knights or Stegan and Dastan. The longer he lives like this, the more he will lose control."

It seemed a distant concern, the feuds of family and an ailing grandfather in the capital. But it definitely troubled my parents.

"Perhaps. I just hope we don't have to face that chaos," father said, and let silence hang for a few moments.

"I do not think Nistan's hidden employer was after Pricel because of us, more likely that was someone from outside the Efeles faction. But it is not coincidence either that he took Pricel here in Olwick, and with him Tilvrade. Tilvrade's birth is just too unexpected. I hate to admit it, but that curse was perhaps not a bad thing, hiding us for so long, no one expecting us to have an heir."

"What do we do? Are they going to come back?"

"I do not like what is happening with father and the sijony, but if we just continue to live in Olwick..."

"Sivis, not now, let us discuss this later."

Father left his thoughts unfinished and I thought of all I could not do, lying here in my cast, still covered in bruises.

"Sorry Tilly, I did not think a letter would lead to that," mother explained as father left the room.

The more I heard about it, the less appealing the capital seemed. Not a city of liberty, commerce and military faculties, but one of intrigue and despotism.

I'm glad we live in Olwick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is Tilvrade recovering?"

I lifted my head from where I was staring into Semolina's red button eyes. It seemed father had come to ask about me.

I rolled on the bed, trying to find a cooler part of the mattress. It seemed that the heat coming from the window was even worse than my injuries these days.

After the letter from his sister, father would visit from time to time. More and more frequently, in fact, as time passed and as I healed.

He would always ask about my recovery and sometimes even ask me how I was feeling. Then, he might hold mother's hand for a bit or sit near the window and ruminate before leaving.

He seemed impatient about something.

Over 3 spring and summer months, I had slowly healed.

It was cuts and scrapes first, my elbows finally more bendable and my skin becoming smooth.

Then the bruises, fading away. After another dozen days, mother stopped smearing ointment all over me, to my great joy.

I hadn't become a butterfly, but at least I just had three purple splotches left, nothing like the multicolour palettes of before.

My eye was still recovering. I was really scared for a week as my vision from my left eye seemed to fade away, but, like my leg, it did slowly recover. Although my leg was still tender, I could see and stand, causes for great jubilation both for me and my mother.

As soon as I was able to sit up without too much difficulty, I started eating the real stuff. Usually a slice of roast bird, that I so often saw mother and father eating.

I tried not to gag when I first saw it in front of me, images of my mother with bloody fangs appearing in my mind. But the smell of meat and my mother's tender urgings with a fork instead of the usual spoon in front of my mouth soon convinced me to give it a taste.

The first few stringy pieces of it and I already wanted some more.

So for the next few days, I ate and slept and tried to ignore the still lasting pain.

But mixed with the never ending pain was the constant press and urging of memories. It wasn't just the memories of Nistan and Drim. The memories of the strange lab and the grinning man with the stripes on his shoulder joined them.

What was that other world and that room of counters and machines?

There was something terrifying about that dream. How he grinned and then said strange things. I don't know why he told me magic didn't exist or what the gibberish about pristine runes and stasis runes all meant, but I knew that if I didn't find out it would continue to haunt me.

So, I focused on doing better at mana condensation and at remembering the symbols and things from the visions.

I had Ivian bring me the wax pad that I had received from father so long ago. As I lay in the bed, I erased all the frivolous drawings that I had made before, and started being a bit more serious, writing down the things I remembered and needed to know.

It didn't happen all at once. I would remember certain things here and there as I thought about the shapes and magics of the illusory world. It was runes that came first, more naturally to me. Two of them were really iconic, almost as if a person had drawn them once.

One of them was a simple image of a sun with curved spikes of light around it digging into a square of darkness. As I drew it, the pen almost started drawing of its own, tracing the lines of some template hidden in the muscles of my hand.

The second that I discovered in those last days of my recovery was more insightful, bringing other symbols and ideas with it.

The icon itself was of two triangles, one inverted on top of the other outlined in a shape that I remembered the odd word tetragonal prism to describe.

It meant nothing to me as I stared at it, until I thought of the shaman's strange tool, the weird glass shape with sand filtering from one bulb to the other as he put that curse of silence on me similar to the two triangles. All this time, I hadn't realised what the shaman was doing with it, but between that and the icon in front of me, I realised it had to do with measuring time.

Around the hourglass and the tetragonal prism, there were other symbols, seemingly important not for their shape and design like the icon but for their meanings, still hidden to me.

It was frustrating, how I couldn't quite remember. But the mana condensation was much smoother now.

I remembered that a baby doesn't really have much mana. The more 'you' there was, the more mana you could collect from a day of attracting ambient mana, but considering that barrier, I was more satisfied with the few little drops that gathered in my stomach.

It had only been thanks this little habit I developed, originally wanting to make new bubbles, that I was able to save my life and Ivian's from Nistan. I still didn't quite understand the sudden inspiration I had to use unstructured pain reflection or how I did it, but I still wanted to have that security of a mana well to draw on.

Already, I could feel the drop of mana had grown into a pea-sized globe.

It felt almost like an island of cold floating inside me and slowly growing a tree.

Perhaps the benefits would accrue as I started condensing at a young age. Mana definitely seemed to exist, so maybe this society really was just in an age of ignorance, awaiting my glorious knowledge from the ghosts of the ancestors.

"You're scribbling on that thing again." Ivian said, sitting beside me and picking up the wax pad I had placed beside me. "It's pretty but... are those shapes so interesting? Don't you want me to tell you a story instead?"

I looked up. It must have been quite comical or else rather eccentric, watching a baby draw little icons into the wax tablet.

To be honest, I didn't even understand what they were. I felt I was on to something, and that it was important, and could save my life again sometime, but it also made me feel sleepy and I wanted to cuddle with Ivian too.

I put the board down and reached up for a hug. Every time I saw her like this, still here at my side, I felt relieved and happy, no longer taking her presence or life for granted. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about her going anywhere. I'd be with Ivian forever!

"We are not safe here in Olwick." my father was saying in the corridor, probably to mother, "I am hesitant to go to my father, but it is better to go sooner rather than later."

I only heard a bit of his voice, before his footsteps took him away. But Ivian completed the thought for me.

"It seems you're going to see the capital, Tilly."

"The capital?"

"Your parents are going to go see your grandfather," she explained, "I'm going to miss you."

Why did I have to go to the capital without Ivian?

"Ivian too!" This was an non-negotiable condition.

"Tilly, I have to stay in Olwick. I still have my sister and Eve to look after. And Aian is resting nearby."

What did the valet have to do with anything, I didn't understand.