After giving Frija another lesson about knocking on the door, this one running even longer than the previous… six? Or seven? Ranvir finally took her home.

“Dad, will you tell me about Svinheim?” Frija asked. They’d switched to elensk after dinner, as was the routine Ranvir set in when he learned about how children absorb languages.

He’d been shocked when he’d been told that children didn’t just speak their native tongue, it had to be taught to them. He’d assumed that Frija would speak Elensk simply because both her parents were from Elusria, but apparently most children spoke the language that was spoken around them and not their mother tongue.

“Of course, Firehearth,” Ranvir said, as he dragged the stories of Svinheim up from the dregs of his memories. The land of pigs was a mythical place where stories of ancient swines bigger than burial hills roamed the land, flew the skies, and swam the dirt.

Ranvir hadn’t been too partial to the stories, ever since he’d seen when one of the swine herders accidentally dropped a bucket of food into the pen, instead of slopping it into the trough. They’d torn the bucket apart getting at the food.

Frija, however, loved anything involving animals. When Ranvir had first told her of Varumgándr and the Triplet Goddess, she’d asked the Goddess was evil since she’d killed an animal.

All of that is to say, Ranvir was mostly coming up with stories of Svinheim on the spot, making them up as he went. Thankfully, she cared more about the animals than any logical consistency of the stories. He could only imagine how much of a headache keeping track of all the details would be.

After the stories, Ranvir took her hand, and they went through their nightly meditations. That one Ranvir had come up with on his own. Frija had long struggled with going to sleep, claiming she couldn’t after a bare few moments, but she loved participating in activities.

So when he put her in her nightclothes, lay her in her bed, kept the door opened only a crack, and told her to breathe deep and slow. Ranvir was a fucking genius, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.

He bent down and gently kissed her brow as he slipped his rough fingers from hers. “Sleep well, Fireheart,” and then again in Fiyan, “May you have a long night in Nysea’s embrace, Firehearth.”

Ranvir left her room, walking out of the front door towards the root cellar, which was only accessible from the outside and through heavy doors so Frija didn’t accidentally get inside. As he walked, he pondered the nickname. It was relatively common in Elusria spoken from parent to child. When he’d first started using it fiyan, people had been giving him weird looks.

Since these people didn’t have cold winters, or anything really that was that cold, Ranvir had realized much of the metaphor was lost on them. So he’d looked for something else and Fireheart had worked well.

Stepping down into his cellar, he first examined the shallow front room where he stored the longer term foods. Nothing exciting had changed, which was good. Carefully, he reached into the room beyond the shallow cellar. With extreme care he pulled the space about, sensing the ripples it made in the ambient mana even as he worked it as inoffensively as he could.

From previous experience, he recognized the difference between what his current efforts and what carelessness had gotten him in the beginning. The difference between skipping a rock across a lake versus dropping a boulder into it. Both could be noticed from afar, but one was slightly more obvious.

Ranvir briefly stepped out of space before reappearing inside the true cellar, only accessible via space. Either that or an attack strong enough to break through a hand span of stone.

The sealed space was lit with golden brown light from a few select rituals. He’d deliberately made them inefficient to spill enough light to see by, something that had been surprisingly difficult. Space really only wanted to give out its light during much higher outputs, breakdown of a working. When he’d attempted to light the room with such effects, they’d been extremely loud on the lines, or failed outright. Stone mana was far less stable than space, so it was far more willing to give him light.

Taking in a deep breath, Ranvir first checked on the ritual he had burning in the corner. Starting the ritual had been nearly as bad as jumping vast distances, but so long as he kept it on it was about as unintrusive as an active effect of space could be. With Limclea being so soaked in disturbance from the potragos, Ranvir doubted anyone was going to notice his ritual buzzing along this close to a river.

Ranvir checked the results circle but found it unlit. No guides, it hadn’t even detected another plane. Latresekt had claimed the Liminal was vast, but his ritual had been actively searching for over two years and it had found nothing.

Ranvir paused, sensing a slight vibration through his boots. With his meager distribution into perception, his senses weren’t much greater than normal, but underground the tremors were more noticeable. It grew in strength rapidly before tapering off in moments. Even at its peak, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it through soft soil. The breaking was still waning, which was good.

The potragos was largely protected against the ground cracking open, but it might temporarily drain the water if one was big enough. He really couldn’t afford to be delayed tomorrow.

Or anytime, really, Ranvir could stop the dark thought from intruding as he tried to shake off the ill mood. In that effort, he turned to the books on the shelf. One of his two luxuries. He could count each one in the amount of lunches he’d missed as he’d saved up the keys for them.

He grabbed his latest volume, opening to the latest page before he grabbed a pen. He began writing what his training for the day had looked like, detailing how he’d gazed the lines, to what kind of figure he’d shaped from rock, to how far he’d been able to push his Disciplines, even to the amount of disturbance his short hop across the wall had made. Finally, he ended on the most noteworthy incident of the day.

The reading at the Sentinels in the afternoon.

“You’re such an idiot.”

Ranvir shook his head and finished up his notes with the last changes. Small incremental benefits that he’d registered over most of three years. Putting the book away, he grabbed the only one in the room that wasn’t connected with mana. The only book he really cared to keep away from anyone’s prying eyes.

Except, he couldn’t keep the most annoying one away at all. Latresekt chuffed to itself as he pulled out his budget book.

The very first line he’d written in the book was how much he’d need to pay Ione every month to make sure she was paid off in just under ten years. He knew the woman wasn’t that old, into her sixties, but she’d be in her seventies before he’d paid her back. And he really would prefer it. He managed that before she died. Sixties wasn’t old, but sixty wasn’t exactly young either. If he’d have to finish the payment to Amalia…

He shook it from his mind. Ione was still fresh, keeping herself moving and lively. Seven more years was plenty of time. That was the biggest of his costs, which he noted down in his new schema. Then he started noting down the other expenses. Transportation, food, then another big one, school. Being a hull cleaner didn’t exactly pay well, and he was doing a great job of squeezing that income to the bone.

He was putting money aside now, since he’d rather make sure he could pay for her education before he needed it than ask for help when the bill came. Next, he checked through the previous budgets, noticing the collegia’s next papers were due anytime within the next month or two.

Ranvir sucked on his teeth as he scoured his budget outline for the next month. I could skip lunch on these weeks and if I can fish dinner in week one and two, then I wouldn’t have to skip the entire month.

“You know what would solve this entire issue?” Latresekt remarked.

A bubble of orange irritation stained with red rose through the gray muck as the spirit creature’s intrusion.

“You could do something other than scrape fish shit off ships, something you’re much better suited for, something you’re better educated for, maybe even something you’re more interested in,” Latresekt flicked a disinterested claw back and forth as it rolled over in his tether-space.

“What would you have me do?” Ranvir stood up so abruptly the chair fell back and the book fell on the floor. “I already have one psychotic triplet master hunting me! You know what would fix that? Get another! Of course, how couldn’t I see that? Then they’ll kill each other and I’ll only have to deal with the survivors.”

“You’re not nearly as desirable as you seem to think,” Latresekt replied indifferently.

“You came for me, didn’t you?”

Latresekt lifted a finger, “That’s because you’re a sensitive. More mind anima means more food.”

“So there is something special about me?” Ranvir chuckled to himself as he stifled the urge to hit the table. “Well, well, well.”

“That’s not why Saleema sought you out. That’s not why you will ever be solicited again.”

“But you needed my mind anima?”

“Am I not a spirit of the mind? The bigger the food, the more attractive, that’s basic rules.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Ranvir asked. “Food?”

Latresekt halted, its entire body growing still. “Have I ever suggested differently? If so, then I am sorry that I’ve confused you.”

“Then why should I trust you?”

“Dead people don’t have mind anima.”

“I’m not dying,” Ranvir replied, waving his arms wildly. “That’s what I’m trying to maintain.”

“Are you sure about that? When was the last time you experienced anything that wasn’t anger with enough color to recall?”

Ranvir grit his teeth, slammed the budget book shut and tried to shove it into the bookshelf, but his hand shook too much. In the end, he left it on the table and went over to the wall. The room’s golden color was dim. He should stay and recharge the rituals instead of let them die out.

“You can’t run from me, Ranvir,” Latresekt growled with a predator’s glint in its eyes.

Grinding his teeth together, Ranvir tried to find the focus to move out of the room, but his attention was shot. Too tired, too emotional, too… much. He closed his eyes and could almost feel those broken gold and purple eyes, so close to mirroring his own, peering back at him. The sensation made Ranvir’s back stiffen as he spun around and searched the room. Dark violet fear slithered atop the muck as he forced his breath under control.