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rix_scaedu) wrote2019-03-10 04:47 pm
rix_scaedu) wrote2019-03-10 04:47 pm
Entry tags:
Liavan: Spring - Part 7
This runs on from Liavan: Spring - Part 6 and runs to 2,901 words.
They made their good byes and while the town reeve returned to his own office in the building next door, the three women went to the Bishop's Residence. Father Manrel received them in a comfortable study on the ground floor of the building near its business entrance. Being a churchman, he wore a grey kilt under a grey tunic that had silver buttons down the left-hand side fastening. He had knee-high grey socks and black shoes on his feet, while his hair was pulled back neatly into a standard clerical ponytail almost long enough to reach the waistband of his kilt, if that portion of the garment had been on display. His guest chairs were upholstered in blue and he offered everyone tea.
"I don't know that I can," said Liavan honestly. "There has been so much tea for me this afternoon, but please don't let that stop anyone else having one."
"I find," replied the diocese's senior withemaster or withemistress in religious orders, "that tea gives one something inoffensive to do with one’s hands. Holding a teacup can also provide a surprising amount of moral support. Besides, this blend is one that the Bishop's assistant housekeeper makes up herself with rose petals from the garden - I find the scent quite soothing." He poured tea into four tall, straight-sided cups with a lichen-like pattern glazed on them and placed one in front of each of his guests on a small silver coaster before taking the last one for himself. "Now, Withemistress Haucmel, I believe you said something about cursing your mother. I take it that you were not referring to the use of strong language?"
"No, I wasn't," admitted Liavan, and she let Father Manrel lead her through telling the whole story again.
When Liavan finished he observed quietly, "So, in order to lift the curse your mother is required to perform an act, possibly multiple acts, of contrition and restitution with the number defined by her actions in the last thirteen lunar months. It has a certain elegance to it," he admitted. "How do you feel about the whole matter?"
"I'm not sure if I'm more worried that I'm the sort of person who casts curses," admitted Liavan, "or that I cursed my mother, or that I would have said that I didn’t know how to lay a curse on someone, or that there will be penalties from the authorities for cursing her."
"I can find no fault with any of those concerns,” replied the priest. “At this point there will be no penalty from the church in view of the developing provocation you received in the leadup to the act. However, I will require you to visit me in my professional capacity on a regular basis from now until your mother rids herself of the curse. You might indeed be the sort of person to whom curses are second nature, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Like so many skills and talents the key is in how, when, and why you use it. Together I am sure that we can endeavour to keep you on a path of good choices and sound moral behaviour. As for how you knew what to do, occasionally people in our line do make instinctual breakthroughs, but I think you’d be better served going back through your great aunt’s notes again. There may be things in there that, taken together, explain everything."
"So," commented Withemistress Penden shrewdly, "if your mother does raise a fuss about the matter, then the Church has already taken you in hand. What more can she ask?"
"A short sermon on the doctrine of pre-birth innocence perhaps," suggested Father Manrel. "It sounds to me as if she might need it. I will suggest to the Rector of the Cathedral that it might be timely for a sermon on the topic. I don't think there's been one from the cathedral pulpit for some years now. His Excellency might also be open to covering the issue in his regular letter to the diocese."
Liavan asked, "How often should I come to see you then, sir? Once a week when I come to market day?"
"Once every second week should be sufficient," replied the priest kindly, "unless we become concerned about your progress. Shall we meet next market day for the first time?"
"I can certainly do that," Liavan replied, much relieved that no-one was inclined to withdraw her licenses or throw her into gaol. "When do you want me to come and see you?"
"Why don't I come to see you at your stall early in the day?" suggested Father Manrel. "Depending on your mother's actions between now and then it might be best to show that you are under the supervision of the diocese in that you are within my concerns. By the way, it has occurred to me since you came here to apply for your license - do you know what happened to your great aunt's furniture after she died?"
"Some of it went to other family members," said Liavan slowly. "That's how I got some of the notebooks of hers I have, they were in a chest of drawers from her room that I was given. The rest of it was sent to be sold off."
"It might be worth making enquiries with the second-hand furniture dealers," said Father Manrel carefully.
"Sometimes large pieces, particularly large pieces with doors and drawers that can't be opened, can take years to sell. The dealer might still have some of your great aunt's things."
"If you haven't already," added Withemistress Penden carefully, "double check that chest of drawers for anything...unexpected. I've heard of glyphs and runes painted on the underside of drawers, double and false bottoms, and invisible inks."
"If anything is on any of her old furniture," added Anirar thoughtfully, "it seems unlikely to be anything actively dangerous. I mean, Withemistress Haucmel's great-aunt has been gone for some years now, or so I understand, and nothing has exploded."
"You have a good point," agreed the priest.
"I don't think Great Aunt Anglou would have booby trapped her furniture," said Liavan thoughtfully. "Locked it, yes. Set it up to hurt you if you looked at it wrong, no."
"She was a withemistress," observed Withemistress Penden. "We can get peculiar, and none of us like being stolen from."
"I suspect that if Withemistress Haucmel's great aunt had booby trapped any of her possessions, then the family would have discovered it when they cleaned out her room after she died," observed Father Manrel. "As it appears that nothing has triggered since her demise, all should be well. In my experience, the people who do booby trap their possessions seem to aim for a high death count as quickly as possible and generally don't have access to magic."
"That seems a rather sweeping statement, " observed Withemistress Penden.
"Again, in my experience the people with magic tend to take action against their so-called persecutors much sooner than those without," remarked the priest. "It's the other person who dies first, or gets transformed into something."
"You have a point," conceded Withemistress Penden. She turned to Liavan and added, "I would be fascinated to see your great aunt's notebooks, but I freely concede that you have the greatest claim to them. Please, call on me if you find something you would like help with to open, or form an opinion on before you try to open it. I will require a consideration for my help, but it won't be anything excessive."
"I would also be happy to provide advice if you think you want it," added Father Manrel, "but my advice will be in line with the church's teachings and sometimes such advice isn't wanted."
Liavan thought for a moment and said, "Thank you, both of you. I will keep your kind offers and your advice in mind."
Anirar asked, "May I make a personal observation, Withemistress Haucmel? After I apologise for my rudeness when you first came to our house this afternoon."
Liavan simply looked at her, not sure what to say.
"I was...obnoxious," Anirar sighed as she admitted it, "and I left you sitting in the entrance hall because I didn't think you looked like a real withemistress. All the withemistresses I know fortify themselves with enchantments when they go out and about, and you don't have anything," she leaned forward sharply, "except your boots. How did I miss those before?"
"They're very ordinary boots," replied Liavan. "Why would you look at them? As for me not having many things yet, well I have only just started out."
"You don't even have any ordinary decorations on your hat," pointed out Anirar. "That's unusual, but generally not in a good way."
"Up until now I haven't been in a position to choose my own clothes," Liavan replied quietly, "and just now I have other priorities."
"If you're not sure what clothes you want or what colours will suit you," put in Father Manrel, "I can ask the Bishop's housekeeper and her assistant to take you around the seamstresses and the tailoring shops. Sister Malen and Sister Haydor like dressing people and they both have a good eye. I think you might do better with stronger colours than the ones that have been chosen for you before."
Liavan looked down at her pale-yellow tunic with its line of bone buttons up the left front and agreed, "Yes, I think you're right. Marigold or peat would look better, and a stronger green or even blue for the dress."
"Think about it while you're building up your reserves," suggested Withemistress Penden. "Once you know what spells you want to imbue an object with, the choice of that object does become easier. I find that protections go best with some things, enhancements with others, and so on."
"What may not have come to Withemistress Penden's notice," added Father Manrel, "is that different people have different preferences when they choose what to enchant. The late Brother Hendel at the Abbey of St Astram over by Castle Rennard used to put everything on buckles. Belt buckles, shoe buckles, strap buckles, any sort of buckle: he used to say that buckles weren't expected to wear out and people always keep them. On the other hand, many people prefer to use brooches because they can be easily moved around between different tunics or shawls."
"I shall keep all of that in mind," replied Liavan gravely.
"And I got distracted and didn't actually say the words," put in Anirar. "I am very sorry I was rude to you this afternoon, Withemistress Haucmel, and I will try to do better with new acquaintances who don't appear to be within my expectations in the future."
"I thank you for your apology, and I applaud your intention to improve," replied Liavan formally. "That is a thing which is not always easy."
Father Manrel brightly surveyed all his guests and said, "Well, that seems to be all our business that I am aware of, ladies. If there is nothing else, I am supposed to be making a clean copy of one of my predecessor's notes to send to one of my colleagues."
Liavan looked at the other two women and then back at their host, "Thank you everyone for putting up with my nonsense, but I think we've covered everything of mine."
"I have nothing else," agreed Withemistress Penden, who then turned to her daughter, "Anirar?
That young lady shook her head and said, "No, I have nothing else."
They made their farewells then, and Liavan and the other two women separated outside the Residence. Liavan made her way to the spot that would get her home on one step and cast her spell. When she arrived almost on the track in front of her house, she was pleased to see that she seemed to have had no further visitors. She unlocked the house and, feeling the warm air trapped inside, considered whether her contemplated changes should include a verandah to shade the windows and walls. After finishing off her outside chores, Liavan returned to her desk and her interrupted calculations. After dinner she wrote up the afternoon in her notebook before she went to bed.
She woke before dawn to hear stamping outside and looking through her window showed her a giant stag with strange antlers, just like the one she'd seen before in almost the same place as last time. It was pawing at the ground outside her fence as if it was trying to dig a hole, and Liavan didn't know enough about deer to know if this was normal behaviour. Interrupting it seemed a very bad idea, so Liavan took what seemed the sensible step of going back to bed.
Morning revealed a hole big enough to fit the muzzle of the animal she'd seen in, and a pile of fresh dung. Liavan did nothing to the hole and added the dung to her beginning of a compost pile. She went on with her routine because weeds were growing enthusiastically in her new garden. Some of them were useful plants, so she tried moving them to places that suited her more - if she was lucky some would survive. She prepared her cough mixtures well ahead of time and practised the hand gestures that went with the spell on her shoes in case she had to use it unexpectedly and in a hurry. That led to her noticing that the small catch at her magic that happened when she did the spell's gestures happened even while she wasn't wearing the shoes. A little cautious experimentation later and she had found that using just the gestures and pushing a little magic into them let her travel anything between eight and fifteen ells instantaneously. As far as she could tell.
It then occurred to her that if she was going to go flinging herself blindly around the countryside by magic in the course of learning what her spells and boots could do, then a compass and a decent map could be useful pieces of equipment. She had no idea how much such things cost, so she wrote a reminder to make enquiries.
Next market day dawned wet and Liavan swathed herself in her grey overshawl before leaving the house. Market Cranebourne however was fine and sunny, so she took it off after she arrived at her usual spot on the far outskirts of town, folded the garment with the dampness inwards, and put in into her holdall. She was in good time to get her usual spot for her stall and erected it quickly and efficiently while no-one else had time to gawp at how much was coming out of her carpet bag holdall. Today she added her great shawl to the space between the two back canopy support posts so it could dry, and a second folding chair because she was expecting Father Manrel. Business was satisfyingly brisk, except sustained interest in her mixtures meant that the town's miner's lung and forge fume problems were not abating with the warmer weather.
She spent a pleasant half hour with Father Manrel who had some good advice on where to buy a compass, and a few pithy things to say about maps. "It depends on what the map is intended to do," he told her. "I've seen route maps that are nothing but a straight strip of paper with landmarks on the route marked but no indication of direction or the route's relationship to other roads. There are maps that ignore everything outside the landed estates except the royal castles. There are sea charts that ignore anything on land. Before you hand over good money you need to know what it is that you want."
"Something that tells me where places are in relation to other places," replied Liavan. "As the crow flies, and with the roads marked in too."
"You know, I don't know that there is one for around here," said Father Manrel thoughtfully after a moment. "We've got one we made ourselves for the town. St Astram's has one for their lands and Castle Rennard. The Baron might have one and so might the Duke, but they would be for their own use. They exist for the capital and both old capitals, but if you want one for here, then you might have to make it yourself. It would be a worthy endeavour," he added. "Given the breadth of the diocese, the Bishop might buy a copy off you, if you did make one."
"I suppose," said Liavan slowly, "that part of the problem is that there's nowhere up high that you can see everything around here from at once. I mean, you can climb the cathedral tower and see all of Market Cranebourne at once, and how it's laid out and the way Evers Lane curves so it can cross both Foundry Way and Mishel Street, but you can't see the whole road between Market Cranebourne and, say, Castle Rennard."
"Or the bits that the roads don't go through," added Father Manrel. "Those are the bits that get people into trouble."
Liavan nodded and added, "Like giant pigs."
"Swamps and mires," added Father Manrel. "If you decide to go map making, be careful because you don’t know what you might find."
"I'll keep it in mind," promised Liavan.
Part 1.
Part 2.
Part 3.
Part 4.
Part 5.
Part 6.
This is Part 7.
Part 8.
Part 9.
Part 10.
They made their good byes and while the town reeve returned to his own office in the building next door, the three women went to the Bishop's Residence. Father Manrel received them in a comfortable study on the ground floor of the building near its business entrance. Being a churchman, he wore a grey kilt under a grey tunic that had silver buttons down the left-hand side fastening. He had knee-high grey socks and black shoes on his feet, while his hair was pulled back neatly into a standard clerical ponytail almost long enough to reach the waistband of his kilt, if that portion of the garment had been on display. His guest chairs were upholstered in blue and he offered everyone tea.
"I don't know that I can," said Liavan honestly. "There has been so much tea for me this afternoon, but please don't let that stop anyone else having one."
"I find," replied the diocese's senior withemaster or withemistress in religious orders, "that tea gives one something inoffensive to do with one’s hands. Holding a teacup can also provide a surprising amount of moral support. Besides, this blend is one that the Bishop's assistant housekeeper makes up herself with rose petals from the garden - I find the scent quite soothing." He poured tea into four tall, straight-sided cups with a lichen-like pattern glazed on them and placed one in front of each of his guests on a small silver coaster before taking the last one for himself. "Now, Withemistress Haucmel, I believe you said something about cursing your mother. I take it that you were not referring to the use of strong language?"
"No, I wasn't," admitted Liavan, and she let Father Manrel lead her through telling the whole story again.
When Liavan finished he observed quietly, "So, in order to lift the curse your mother is required to perform an act, possibly multiple acts, of contrition and restitution with the number defined by her actions in the last thirteen lunar months. It has a certain elegance to it," he admitted. "How do you feel about the whole matter?"
"I'm not sure if I'm more worried that I'm the sort of person who casts curses," admitted Liavan, "or that I cursed my mother, or that I would have said that I didn’t know how to lay a curse on someone, or that there will be penalties from the authorities for cursing her."
"I can find no fault with any of those concerns,” replied the priest. “At this point there will be no penalty from the church in view of the developing provocation you received in the leadup to the act. However, I will require you to visit me in my professional capacity on a regular basis from now until your mother rids herself of the curse. You might indeed be the sort of person to whom curses are second nature, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. Like so many skills and talents the key is in how, when, and why you use it. Together I am sure that we can endeavour to keep you on a path of good choices and sound moral behaviour. As for how you knew what to do, occasionally people in our line do make instinctual breakthroughs, but I think you’d be better served going back through your great aunt’s notes again. There may be things in there that, taken together, explain everything."
"So," commented Withemistress Penden shrewdly, "if your mother does raise a fuss about the matter, then the Church has already taken you in hand. What more can she ask?"
"A short sermon on the doctrine of pre-birth innocence perhaps," suggested Father Manrel. "It sounds to me as if she might need it. I will suggest to the Rector of the Cathedral that it might be timely for a sermon on the topic. I don't think there's been one from the cathedral pulpit for some years now. His Excellency might also be open to covering the issue in his regular letter to the diocese."
Liavan asked, "How often should I come to see you then, sir? Once a week when I come to market day?"
"Once every second week should be sufficient," replied the priest kindly, "unless we become concerned about your progress. Shall we meet next market day for the first time?"
"I can certainly do that," Liavan replied, much relieved that no-one was inclined to withdraw her licenses or throw her into gaol. "When do you want me to come and see you?"
"Why don't I come to see you at your stall early in the day?" suggested Father Manrel. "Depending on your mother's actions between now and then it might be best to show that you are under the supervision of the diocese in that you are within my concerns. By the way, it has occurred to me since you came here to apply for your license - do you know what happened to your great aunt's furniture after she died?"
"Some of it went to other family members," said Liavan slowly. "That's how I got some of the notebooks of hers I have, they were in a chest of drawers from her room that I was given. The rest of it was sent to be sold off."
"It might be worth making enquiries with the second-hand furniture dealers," said Father Manrel carefully.
"Sometimes large pieces, particularly large pieces with doors and drawers that can't be opened, can take years to sell. The dealer might still have some of your great aunt's things."
"If you haven't already," added Withemistress Penden carefully, "double check that chest of drawers for anything...unexpected. I've heard of glyphs and runes painted on the underside of drawers, double and false bottoms, and invisible inks."
"If anything is on any of her old furniture," added Anirar thoughtfully, "it seems unlikely to be anything actively dangerous. I mean, Withemistress Haucmel's great-aunt has been gone for some years now, or so I understand, and nothing has exploded."
"You have a good point," agreed the priest.
"I don't think Great Aunt Anglou would have booby trapped her furniture," said Liavan thoughtfully. "Locked it, yes. Set it up to hurt you if you looked at it wrong, no."
"She was a withemistress," observed Withemistress Penden. "We can get peculiar, and none of us like being stolen from."
"I suspect that if Withemistress Haucmel's great aunt had booby trapped any of her possessions, then the family would have discovered it when they cleaned out her room after she died," observed Father Manrel. "As it appears that nothing has triggered since her demise, all should be well. In my experience, the people who do booby trap their possessions seem to aim for a high death count as quickly as possible and generally don't have access to magic."
"That seems a rather sweeping statement, " observed Withemistress Penden.
"Again, in my experience the people with magic tend to take action against their so-called persecutors much sooner than those without," remarked the priest. "It's the other person who dies first, or gets transformed into something."
"You have a point," conceded Withemistress Penden. She turned to Liavan and added, "I would be fascinated to see your great aunt's notebooks, but I freely concede that you have the greatest claim to them. Please, call on me if you find something you would like help with to open, or form an opinion on before you try to open it. I will require a consideration for my help, but it won't be anything excessive."
"I would also be happy to provide advice if you think you want it," added Father Manrel, "but my advice will be in line with the church's teachings and sometimes such advice isn't wanted."
Liavan thought for a moment and said, "Thank you, both of you. I will keep your kind offers and your advice in mind."
Anirar asked, "May I make a personal observation, Withemistress Haucmel? After I apologise for my rudeness when you first came to our house this afternoon."
Liavan simply looked at her, not sure what to say.
"I was...obnoxious," Anirar sighed as she admitted it, "and I left you sitting in the entrance hall because I didn't think you looked like a real withemistress. All the withemistresses I know fortify themselves with enchantments when they go out and about, and you don't have anything," she leaned forward sharply, "except your boots. How did I miss those before?"
"They're very ordinary boots," replied Liavan. "Why would you look at them? As for me not having many things yet, well I have only just started out."
"You don't even have any ordinary decorations on your hat," pointed out Anirar. "That's unusual, but generally not in a good way."
"Up until now I haven't been in a position to choose my own clothes," Liavan replied quietly, "and just now I have other priorities."
"If you're not sure what clothes you want or what colours will suit you," put in Father Manrel, "I can ask the Bishop's housekeeper and her assistant to take you around the seamstresses and the tailoring shops. Sister Malen and Sister Haydor like dressing people and they both have a good eye. I think you might do better with stronger colours than the ones that have been chosen for you before."
Liavan looked down at her pale-yellow tunic with its line of bone buttons up the left front and agreed, "Yes, I think you're right. Marigold or peat would look better, and a stronger green or even blue for the dress."
"Think about it while you're building up your reserves," suggested Withemistress Penden. "Once you know what spells you want to imbue an object with, the choice of that object does become easier. I find that protections go best with some things, enhancements with others, and so on."
"What may not have come to Withemistress Penden's notice," added Father Manrel, "is that different people have different preferences when they choose what to enchant. The late Brother Hendel at the Abbey of St Astram over by Castle Rennard used to put everything on buckles. Belt buckles, shoe buckles, strap buckles, any sort of buckle: he used to say that buckles weren't expected to wear out and people always keep them. On the other hand, many people prefer to use brooches because they can be easily moved around between different tunics or shawls."
"I shall keep all of that in mind," replied Liavan gravely.
"And I got distracted and didn't actually say the words," put in Anirar. "I am very sorry I was rude to you this afternoon, Withemistress Haucmel, and I will try to do better with new acquaintances who don't appear to be within my expectations in the future."
"I thank you for your apology, and I applaud your intention to improve," replied Liavan formally. "That is a thing which is not always easy."
Father Manrel brightly surveyed all his guests and said, "Well, that seems to be all our business that I am aware of, ladies. If there is nothing else, I am supposed to be making a clean copy of one of my predecessor's notes to send to one of my colleagues."
Liavan looked at the other two women and then back at their host, "Thank you everyone for putting up with my nonsense, but I think we've covered everything of mine."
"I have nothing else," agreed Withemistress Penden, who then turned to her daughter, "Anirar?
That young lady shook her head and said, "No, I have nothing else."
They made their farewells then, and Liavan and the other two women separated outside the Residence. Liavan made her way to the spot that would get her home on one step and cast her spell. When she arrived almost on the track in front of her house, she was pleased to see that she seemed to have had no further visitors. She unlocked the house and, feeling the warm air trapped inside, considered whether her contemplated changes should include a verandah to shade the windows and walls. After finishing off her outside chores, Liavan returned to her desk and her interrupted calculations. After dinner she wrote up the afternoon in her notebook before she went to bed.
She woke before dawn to hear stamping outside and looking through her window showed her a giant stag with strange antlers, just like the one she'd seen before in almost the same place as last time. It was pawing at the ground outside her fence as if it was trying to dig a hole, and Liavan didn't know enough about deer to know if this was normal behaviour. Interrupting it seemed a very bad idea, so Liavan took what seemed the sensible step of going back to bed.
Morning revealed a hole big enough to fit the muzzle of the animal she'd seen in, and a pile of fresh dung. Liavan did nothing to the hole and added the dung to her beginning of a compost pile. She went on with her routine because weeds were growing enthusiastically in her new garden. Some of them were useful plants, so she tried moving them to places that suited her more - if she was lucky some would survive. She prepared her cough mixtures well ahead of time and practised the hand gestures that went with the spell on her shoes in case she had to use it unexpectedly and in a hurry. That led to her noticing that the small catch at her magic that happened when she did the spell's gestures happened even while she wasn't wearing the shoes. A little cautious experimentation later and she had found that using just the gestures and pushing a little magic into them let her travel anything between eight and fifteen ells instantaneously. As far as she could tell.
It then occurred to her that if she was going to go flinging herself blindly around the countryside by magic in the course of learning what her spells and boots could do, then a compass and a decent map could be useful pieces of equipment. She had no idea how much such things cost, so she wrote a reminder to make enquiries.
Next market day dawned wet and Liavan swathed herself in her grey overshawl before leaving the house. Market Cranebourne however was fine and sunny, so she took it off after she arrived at her usual spot on the far outskirts of town, folded the garment with the dampness inwards, and put in into her holdall. She was in good time to get her usual spot for her stall and erected it quickly and efficiently while no-one else had time to gawp at how much was coming out of her carpet bag holdall. Today she added her great shawl to the space between the two back canopy support posts so it could dry, and a second folding chair because she was expecting Father Manrel. Business was satisfyingly brisk, except sustained interest in her mixtures meant that the town's miner's lung and forge fume problems were not abating with the warmer weather.
She spent a pleasant half hour with Father Manrel who had some good advice on where to buy a compass, and a few pithy things to say about maps. "It depends on what the map is intended to do," he told her. "I've seen route maps that are nothing but a straight strip of paper with landmarks on the route marked but no indication of direction or the route's relationship to other roads. There are maps that ignore everything outside the landed estates except the royal castles. There are sea charts that ignore anything on land. Before you hand over good money you need to know what it is that you want."
"Something that tells me where places are in relation to other places," replied Liavan. "As the crow flies, and with the roads marked in too."
"You know, I don't know that there is one for around here," said Father Manrel thoughtfully after a moment. "We've got one we made ourselves for the town. St Astram's has one for their lands and Castle Rennard. The Baron might have one and so might the Duke, but they would be for their own use. They exist for the capital and both old capitals, but if you want one for here, then you might have to make it yourself. It would be a worthy endeavour," he added. "Given the breadth of the diocese, the Bishop might buy a copy off you, if you did make one."
"I suppose," said Liavan slowly, "that part of the problem is that there's nowhere up high that you can see everything around here from at once. I mean, you can climb the cathedral tower and see all of Market Cranebourne at once, and how it's laid out and the way Evers Lane curves so it can cross both Foundry Way and Mishel Street, but you can't see the whole road between Market Cranebourne and, say, Castle Rennard."
"Or the bits that the roads don't go through," added Father Manrel. "Those are the bits that get people into trouble."
Liavan nodded and added, "Like giant pigs."
"Swamps and mires," added Father Manrel. "If you decide to go map making, be careful because you don’t know what you might find."
"I'll keep it in mind," promised Liavan.
Part 1.
Part 2.
Part 3.
Part 4.
Part 5.
Part 6.
This is Part 7.
Part 8.
Part 9.
Part 10.
no subject
I wonder how much geometry Liavan knows? If she thinks of it (or talks to a surveyor) she could do a fairly quick survey in a hurry.
She'd need something along the lines of a theodolite (even an astrolabe and a cross-staff would work in a pinch, a quadrant would be better, so would a sextant).
Measure a baseline with as much accuracy as she can and place markers at each end (if she can, a large flat stone that goes at least a foot deep and has a mark in the center is best). An arrow indicating true north would be good as well.
Assuming a theodolite, she can place it over the marker with the plumb bob hanging down. Move the tripod until the bob is directly over the mark.
Align the "compass ring" so the zero mark is pointing true north (that's why you want the arrow :-)
Then pick various landmarks and measure the angle from true north and write it down.
Repeat from the other end of the baseline. Then some "simple" trig will give the distances and let you place then on a map.
Even just a protractor and a ruler will let you place them on the map fairly well.
Go to each of the landmarks and use the theodolite to take and record sighting of all the other landmark you can see from there, and add any you couldn't see from the baseline.
Repeat as necessary to cover the territory you want to map.
oops. I forgot. It goes better with an assistant to hold a marker at each landmark so you have something to sight on more accurately.
Liavan could erect some sort of pole for that purpose. Heck, she could probably create benchmark stones at each location and use something to place the poles over them.
For *her* getting between the landmarks is not a large problem with her travel spell.
So she could get a not that bad map fairly quickly.
At some point, she or someone else would need to go out (and this *does* take two people) and use a surveyor's chain or the like to accurately measure the distance between the chosen landmarks.
That will give a *very* accurate map. (that's essentially how they did it up until well into the 20th century).
But just recording the angles from various points and trying to plot them on a map will give something much better than most medieval maps.
Me? I'd start out with trying to find the boundary markers for her land. There will be *something* listed as part of the legal description of the land.
Get those plotted (and erect survey poles if necessary) then work from them.
First priority is making sure of the boundaries and where he house is. After that, plotting things like the roads, streams, etc as well as any significant landmarks.
Then comes rough plots of land features. Grasslands, forests, etc.
Swamps, fens, and the like go in at that point.
I'm sure that as she gets to it she'll be adding locations of various plants she has use for, as well as noting where various animals are likely to be encountered.
If done something like this, her map will start as a web of bearings for the plotted landmarks.
Depending on what sort of "steps" she takes to move between the landmarks, she can note vegetation and land features along the narrow strip between survey points.
That'll expand the web by broadening the lines, and adding rough detail.
filling in the details for the holes in the web will take some time and be the most hazardous part I'd think.
hope my ramblings prove useful. :-)
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I did simplify things a bit (you really *need* those length measurements, because angles can't be measured super precisely)
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He'd still have to measure distances with a chain or whatever, but he could get the rough map done a *lot* faster.
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I wonder if Liavan could use magic to measure straight-line distances with even half-decent accuracy?
Even assuming she'd have to go to both ends and cast a spell at both (e.g. a beacon at one end, and a beacon-detecting spell at the other), that shouldn't be a major problem given her travel magic. (Especially if she can set up several beacons and distinguish between them in the detection spell.)
We do know that magic use can be detected at a distance (from Penden noticing Liavan making her house), so it is probably possible, even if indirectly - the main question would be whether Liavan can figure out how. (Assuming she even considers it, and assuming she'd actually care to make a map in the first place.)
I don't know much about map-making, but I think having the straight-line distances between her landmarks should allow her to make a decent map fairly easily, shouldn't it? Even without having the angles (beyond "somewhere left of this other landmark")?
The simplest way I can think of would be to use a compass (the drawing tool), basically constructing the map locations as the intersections of arcs.
Even without a compass, though, I can see a fairly easy way to do it, using needles and string (from her sowing kit). The needles (or pins) would represent landmarks, and the string would be measured out to correspond to the distances between them - attaching the string to the needles and moving the needles around until as many strings as possible are taut.
Either way, not much geometry knowledge needed.
Whether using angles or distances though, I do agree that filling in the holes between the landmarks (even just the roads) will be the most time-consuming and hazardous part.
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So the distances are apt to be XX +/- 5% or the like. That means your threads are stretchy. So getting them "tight" isn't going to work well.
Another way to look at it is as a bunch of circles drawn on clear plastic (or at least tracing paper.
So you've got A as the center point and *two* circles for the location of B One for the minimum distance one for the maximum distance that the uncertainty in your measurements give.
Repeat for more overlays for distance between A and C, B and D, etc. It's a royal pain to arrange them in a way that makes sense.
But with the baseline and angles method. You take sightings one various landmarks at each end of a measured baseline.
Say your baseline is a hundred yards long. So you mark a 6 inch line on a *large* piece of paper, and use a protractor to draw lines at the proper angles from each end of the 6 inch line on the paper. Where they intersect is approximately where the landmark you took sightings on is.
Repeat for other landmarks. Now you have a rough map where every inch on the paper represents 50 feet the real world (100 yards = 300 feet, 300 feet divided by 6 = 50)
The farther from the baseline things are, the less accurate their positions are. But they'll be "good enough" for a lot of things.
The longer the baseline, the more accurate things are. and yes, the more accurately you can measure the angles (with a quadrant a sextant or a theodolite) the more accurate the positions will be.
No geometry involved. Just measurements and plotting.
Surveyors in the old days used a "surveyors chain" which was forged with links of a specified size and had a standard length. So you just stretch it to measure "one chain" of distance.
So for a 1 mile baseline, you'd find a level piece of land, establish due north, and get east and west from that. Pace off about a mile and have someone stand there with a pole.
The surveyor at the starting point will use signals to get the guy with the pole to move left or right until he's exactly due east/west/south/north whichever is the way you want the baseline running.
Then the pole gets "planted as a marker. Now the guy with the pole comes back and stretches the chain from the marker the surveyor is using. He's got another pole and uses it to mark the end of the chain. Again he gets directed left and right until he's dead on line with the marker at the end of the mile. Drive a stake and stretch the chain from that and repeat everything 79 more times.
at which point you've got a mile measured pretty accurately and move the original "mile" pole to the end of the chain and drive a stake to mark the end of the baseline.
Now the surveyor(s) can use the markers at each end of the line to place their theodolite (or whatever they are using to measure angles) and "shoot" the angles to various landmarks.
Again plot them on a piece of paper to make a map.
The markers are often made "permanent" by dr8iving a metal pipe with a marker on the end or casting a concrete square with a brass disk in the center. The disk has a set of crosshairs to mark the exact point to measure from.
If you can't stretch a chain (because of rough terrain, a river or whatever) *then* you have to resort to geometry to calculate the distance between the points based on bearing taken from known locations.
But this is pretty much how land surveying was done from the middle ages until things like laser rangefinders and Satellites came along.
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Like so many skills and talents the key is in how, when and why you use it.
commons after when :)
I will suggest to the Rector of the Cathedral that it might be timely to for a sermon on the topic.
perhaps adding 'do' or 'make' or 'write' or 'give' after the 2nd to [and instead of for, i believe]; or just 'might be time for' though that shifts the meaning a tiny bit
"I can certainly do that," Liavan replied, much relieved that no-one was inclined to withdraw her licences or throw her into gaol. "When do you want me to come and see you?"
By the way, it has occurred to me since you came here to apply for your license - do you know what happened to your great aunt's furniture after she died?"
this could be regional! but it appears you used two diff spellings [both legit!] for license, and likely should just keep it consistent, at least in this chapter.
"As it appears that nothing has triggered since her demise, all should be well. In my experience, the people who do booby trap their possessions seem to aim for a high death count as quickly as possible and generally don't have access to magic"
dropped the '.' at the end
"I suppose," said Liavan slowly, "is that part of the problem is that there's nowhere up high that you can see everything around here from at once. I mean, you can climb the cathedral tower and see all of Market Cranebourne at once, and how it's laid out and the way Evers Lane curves so it can cross both Foundry Way and Mishel Street, but you can't see the whole road between Market Cranebourne and, say, Castle Rennard."
i believe the 'is' after slowly is not meant to be there.
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i think it'd be fun if she found more furniture <3 though im not sure how many years it's really been...or perhaps some of her relatives would let her buy or barter some others pieces off them.
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I have fixed everything but left in an awkward word order re the sermon.
Part of Father Manrel's point in going to Liavan at the market is that it is public. He is demonstrating that she is both under Church supervision and has their support. No announcements required.
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Father Manrel's philosophy behind tea is lovely. And the bonus that he's offering a special, fragrant blend certainly helps.
I am unsurprised that Father Manrel wants to put her under supervision; her inability to explain how she knew to do what she did has me puzzled as well. That he's doing so in a public way to forestall Liavan's mother — and suggesting a sermon on a related subject — is once again fine support for Liavan. I like that these people are willing to give the benefit of the doubt, though I think her self-reporting, and quickly, is giving them a fair bit of confidence in her.
The side conversation on clothing is remarkably useful. I'm guessing Liavan hasn't had any opportunity to really pick her own clothing before, so she never thought about it. Now she has, and she already has ideas; I'm curious to see where she goes with it.
The clothing conversation leading into putting magic in things is delightful, and yet more fun world-building to see. Buckles! Useful! Brooches! Mobile! And putting stuff into boots or clothing. Also, Anirar can tell the boots are enchanted. Is this something that any withemistress or withemaster can do? Can other people do it too?
Hooray for Anirar apologizing, and even making a point of doing so after getting distracted from it on the first try.
The map idea is one I'd like to see if she decides to carry it out. Those ten-league boots will be extremely handy, though the caveats about swamps and giant boars are certainly in order.
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The good Father Manrel is a withemaster, but what I was trying to say that not matter the gender or the gender-specific title, he is the senior one in the diocesan service. The position could equally be held by a withemistress, who would probably be a nun.