Chapter 34 – The New Crispin

A day later, there was a knock at the front door, and Valentina set aside the quill she’d been using to copy a summary of advanced healing methods before hurrying down the stairs, already full of anticipation.

When she opened the door, Innogen was standing on the threshold, holding a huge jug of wine. Her blue eyes were shining.

“I’ve brought a housewarming gift,” she said.

“Come in!” Valentina stepped aside and closed the door behind her.

Innogen set the wine down on the small table in the entryway and looked around. “Show me everything.”

Valentina led her through the ground floor, the small kitchen, the living room facing the street, and the tiny garden, which looked even dirtier in the dull afternoon light than it had during the viewing.

“The garden really needs to be-“

“Ignored,” Valentina suggested.

Innogen laughed. “I was going to say fixed up. But ignoring it works as well, I guess.”

On the first floor, Innogen stopped in the study and let her gaze wander over the bookshelves that Valentina had already filled in the last few days. She ran her fingertips over the spines of the books, pulled out a volume, leafed through it briefly, and put it back.

“It already looks like a real home,” she said pleased. “So much better than your room at the university!”

“Oh yes! No more bloody drafty attics,” Valentina confirmed. “Never again, if I have any say in the matter, at least.”

Innogen walked to the living room window and looked down at Pinfeather Lane, where the candlemaker on the corner was just closing up shop and scolding a few children who were playing in front of his store.

“And no thin walls,” said Innogen without turning around. Her voice had taken on a meaningful tone. “And no shared hallways.”

“Agreeeeeeed,” Valentina confirmed, amused.

Innogen turned around, and for a moment they just looked at each other, then Innogen smiled.

“Show me the rest.”

In the attic bedroom, Innogen immediately let herself fall onto the mattress.

“The bed is wide,” she noted.

“Wide enough for two, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Innogen stood up again. “Come on, let’s open the wine.”

~

They sat in Valentina’s study, each in one of the two high-backed chairs with their feet up. She would definitely have to buy some more comfortable furniture. But the wine was good, better than anything Valentina would have bought for herself, though Innogen received regular deliveries from the Marquess’s private stock.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Innogen confessed after a while. “I was thinking about the Earl.”

Valentina took a sip of wine. “About my future husband, you mean?”

“Well, yes.” Innogen pulled her legs closer to her. “I…”

“Spill, what do you want to know?”

Innogen hesitated. “What do you expect? How do you think it will be? In everyday life, I mean. You’ll be living under the same roof with him, at least part of the time.”

Valentina thought for a moment. “He’s seventy-eight, Innogen. He had a stroke a few years ago and suffers from stone disease. Cosimo says he’s still spry, but I suspect that mainly means he can still go to the bathroom on his own and drag himself up on a horse if he really has to.” She shrugged. “I imagine he wants some company, and someone to take care of him when he’s not feeling well. And of course, he’s probably happy to have a young woman in his bed. He’s a man after all.”

Innogen didn’t look her directly in the eyes. “And that… doesn’t bother you? Really?”

Valentina set down her cup and looked Innogen straight in the eye. “Listen to me. This marriage gives me a title, and land. It gives me a legal status that no one can take away from me. I’ll be a countess, Innogen.” She paused. “And above all, it gives me the freedom to be with you and Lorenzo without depending on anyone’s favor. Without anyone being able to threaten to abandon me and destroy me in the process. That’s so valuable, that as far as I’m concerned, the Earl can have his fun.”

Innogen was silent for a moment. Then she shook her head slightly. “Sometimes I forget how hard you are.”

“I’m not hard.”

“Yes, you are. You have a core of steel, Val. You just don’t realize it.” It didn’t sound like a reproach.

Valentina reached out and placed her hand on Innogen’s knee. “I don’t know… my heart goes all soft every time you’re near me.” She smiled slightly. “And I like that. I really like that you do that to me.”

A blush rose to Innogen’s cheeks. “Val-“

She set down her own cup, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around Valentina.

And because there they could, because no servants were eavesdropping behind doors and no duke was watching them out of the corner of his eye, the embrace turned into a kiss. At first gentle, almost cautious, as if they had to make sure the walls were really as thick as they looked. Then the kiss grew more passionate.

“We have all night,” Valentina whispered as they caught their breath.

“Then let’s go upstairs,” said Innogen.

~

It was completely different from Vandercourt.

In Vandercourt, everything had had the aftertaste of stolen time, the feverish intensity of a moment that could end at any second, with a knock on the door or a servant bursting in. Everything had been overshadowed by the fear of being discovered.

Here, in Valentina’s own house, in her bedroom under her own roof, there was none of that.

Instead, they took their time, were less desperate, and explored each other thoroughly and with relish. It was cozy, in a way that surprised Valentina, for she had never associated coziness with desire. But here, in this new, crooked little house of hers, on this bed that creaked only very softly beneath them, she found both of it intertwined.

She discovered that Innogen’s laughter sounded different in bed, it was a breathless laugh that sometimes burst out of her completely uncontrollably.

Vyxara was silent, but Valentina could feel that the demon was enjoying it just as much as Innogen and she herself did.

Afterward, they lay together in bed, the blanket warmly pulled over them, and for the first time, they were able to simply stay that way as long as they wanted.

Innogen lay snuggled against Valentina’s shoulder, and her breathing had become slow and steady. Valentina stroked her hair, and her mind began to work, as it always did in quiet moments like this. Would she ever-

“Stop,” Vyxara said gently. “You don’t always have to categorize and compare and rank everything. This is simply something good, and you’re allowed to enjoy it.”

Innogen shifted slightly, snuggled even closer to her, and murmured against Valentina’s neck, warm and content, already half asleep.

Valentina’s hand found hers under the blanket, and their fingers intertwined all on their own.

And then, in all that warmth and closeness, she fell asleep too.

~

Three days after Innogen’s first visit, Valentina and Innogen were sitting in Innogen’s room at the university, waiting for Crispin.

His letter had arrived in Bridgewater a week ago, even before Valentina had returned from Vandercourt, Innogen had kept it and shown it to her. Half a page in Crispin’s neat, somewhat stiff handwriting. He was looking forward to seeing them again, he wrote, and to their final year together. The summer at the monastery had been a revelation, he said, and that he would arrive in time for the start of the academic year.

Innogen sat next to Valentina on the upholstered bench and played with Valentina’s hands. “Do you think he’ll notice anything?”

“What would he notice?”

“I don’t know. That something’s different between us?”

Valentina shook her head. “I don’t think so. We’ve always been close, and Crispin will just be happy to see us again, don’t you think?”

“Be careful,” Vyxara said. “He’s your friend, and I don’t doubt that he loves you, but religious conviction can become dangerous when it’s put to the test. It’s best not to give him any reason to ask questions.”

A knock on the door spared Valentina from having to answer.

“That must be him,” said Innogen, letting go of Valentina’s hand.

Valentina went to the door and opened it.

The man on the threshold was Crispin, and yet he kind of wasn’t.

The beautiful golden curls that Valentina had always liked most about him were gone. Instead, his head was shaved almost bald, which gave his face a severity that hadn’t been there before. He had also lost weight, even though he had been rather slight to begin with. Now his cheeks were sunken, his jawline sharper, and even his clothes were simpler than before. He wore a plain dark gray doublet without any embellishment.

But his eyes were shining. And when he saw Valentina, a warm, sincere smile spread across his face.

“Val.” He opened his arms.

She hugged him, and the embrace was tight and familiar, and for a moment he was simply Crispin again. But beneath her hands, she could feel how thin he had become.

Innogen had stepped behind Valentina, and Crispin embraced her warmly as well.

“Innogen. You look wonderful. I congratulate you on your engagement!”

“Thank you! And you… well, to be honest, you look like you spent the summer in a cave living on bread and water,” Innogen replied with a smile that was just a touch too broad.

Crispin laughed. “Not quite. But something like that.”

Valentina and Innogen exchanged a quick glance over his shoulder.

They accompanied him to his dorm because Crispin wanted to drop off his things, and then they strolled across the university grounds. The university was slowly filling up again with returning students, and everywhere people were hauling trunks and exchanging greetings.

“Come on,” said Valentina, “I’ll show you my new house.”

Once they arrived at Pinfeather Lane, she showed him around the house, and Crispin was visibly impressed.

“That’s quite an upgrade from the attic,” he said appreciatively, glancing at the bookshelves in her study. “The duke’s patronage seems to be doing you good.”

“Without the duke, I might not even be at the university anymore,” Valentina confirmed. “I’m truly very grateful for his support.”

“And it’s absolutely deserved.” Crispin nodded approvingly, and there was no trace of suspicion in his voice. “I’m happy for you, Val. Really.”

She made herbal tea, since Crispin didn’t want to drink wine, and the three of them sat down in the study.

Crispin told her about the monastery and the Embers, with whom he had spent the summer, and raved about the discipline and the community and the rhythm of the prayers that divided the day into neat segments, and the silence of the brothers during their communal meals.

He spoke with an enthusiasm that reminded Valentina of the Crispin who, in his first year, could talk for hours about geometric theory.

“There’s a… a kind of existential clarity there,” he said, cupping his mug with both hands. “The Embers helped me understand why the Martyr made his sacrifice, and still makes it, really, every day, right now, as we sit here.”

“That sounds like you’ve found what you were looking for,” Innogen said kindly.

“Yes.” Crispin’s voice was calm and firm. “I think I have.”

Valentina sipped her tea. “In Vandercourt we were at the Hearth of Sommerland,” she said, partly because she was genuinely interested in what Crispin would say about it, and partly because she wanted to steer the conversation in directions she could better control. “The duchess took us there. It’s truly magnificent.”

Crispin’s eyes lit up. “I can imagine, it must be overwhelming!” He leaned forward. “Tell me more, what was it like?”

“Quite Intimidating,” admitted Innogen. “Not just because the Flametower is so big, I mean, we’re used to that here, but the whole complex is pretty massive. Makes you feel very small.”

“So be it,” Crispin said solemnly. “I suppose it’s meant to show how great the Martyr’s sacrifice is, and how small our own worries are in comparison.”

He hesitated briefly. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot this summer. About the Illumination.”

“Yeah?” Innogen sounded neutral, but Valentina could see the tension in her shoulders.

“After what happened last year.” Crispin’s voice grew quieter, more thoughtful. “Gladder and… the… the cat. And the dead Emberwardens.” He shuddered. “I’ve spoken with some of the older Embers about it. Someone has to stand up to this threat. Maybe not… not like Eastwald. But someone has to do it. With knowledge and with Essence Weaving, with true understanding and true devotion, and with love for humanity.”

“He means himself,” Vyxara guessed.

“After I graduate,” Crispin said, sounding as if he were taking an oath, “I intend to join the Illumination and put my talent to the service of the Martyr, protecting the souls of humanity from the demonic threat.”

The silence that followed lasted only a heartbeat, but it felt much longer.

Innogen smiled a perfectly friendly smile. “That is a brave decision, Crispin.”

“Do you think so?” He turned to her, clearly pleased by her approval.

“But first, you have to get through your master’s year,” said Valentina, forcing a lightness into her voice. “How’s your research going? Are you still working with Professor Veilford?”

Crispin let himself be distracted, and they talked for a while about his academic plans, about Veilford’s research on stabilizing complex Essence patterns, and about the requirements for the master’s exams. Valentina asked specific questions to spark Crispin’s scientific enthusiasm, kept the conversation in safe waters, and slowly the old familiarity returned.

But then, just before he left, Crispin turned to Valentina once more. He was already standing at the front door, and his gaze had that new, searching quality she’d noticed earlier.

“Val,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Didn’t what happened with Gladder change anything about your relationship to faith and the teachings of the Martyr?”

Valentina looked him in the eyes and smiled gently. “Faith is a personal thing, Crispin. What happened last year was terrible for all of us, but I think each of us is processing it in our own way.”

Crispin nodded slowly. “If you ever want to talk about it-“

“I know where to find you.”

He smiled, hugged her one more time, then Innogen, and left.

Valentina closed the door and then turned around slowly.

Innogen stood in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest, and looked at Valentina with a raised eyebrow. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to say anything.

“This is a disaster,” Valentina said quietly as they went upstairs to the study.

“A friend in the Illumination,” Innogen said finally. Her voice was calm, but there was something hard beneath it. “That’s about the last thing we need.”

“We can’t control what he believes,” Valentina replied.

Innogen looked sad. “But we can control how much he knows.”

“She’s right,” Vyxara’s sober voice rang out in Valentina’s head, “This boy is becoming exactly the kind of person who would turn you in if he ever learned the truth. And not even because he hates you, but because he loves you and would be sincerely convinced that he is saving your soul by handing you over to the Illumination.”

Valentina’s blood ran cold at the thought. That was Crispin. Her Crispin.

“When you have secrets, concerned friends can be more dangerous than suspicious enemies,” Vyxara remarked. “Enemies keep their distance. Concerned friends get closer.”

Innogen stood up and walked over to Valentina, sitting on the armrest of her chair and putting her arm around her shoulders.

“We have to keep him at a bit of a distance,” she said softly. “He’s still our friend, but it’s better if he doesn’t find out about our secret.”

“Yes.” Valentina rested her head against Innogen’s side. “He’s still our friend.”

Valentina thought of Crispin two years ago, who had blushed when she looked at him, who had written her a terribly embarrassing but also beautiful love poem that Professor Horne had read aloud in front of the whole class. The boy who had been so nervous and so tender when they had lost their virginity to each other. Back then, nothing in her life had felt easy, but looking back, it had been a kind of carefree innocence she would probably never find again.

“The past is never as simple as memory makes it seem, little Weaver” Vyxara whispered softly.

“Doesn’t change how I feel right now, Vyxara.”

~

The morning after Crispin’s arrival, she went to the university registrar’s office to pick up her schedule.

The clerk slid a sheet of parchment, covered in neat handwriting, across the counter to her. Valentina scanned the list. Advanced Planar Geometry with Professor Veilford, Advanced Medical Applications with Professor Whitehall, Advanced Practical Application with Professor Emberfell, and Advanced Essence Theory with… strangely, the name hadn’t been filled in yet.

“What’s the deal with that?” Valentina asked, tapping the blank space.

“Ah.” The clerk lowered his voice as if he were revealing a royal secret. “The university has invited a visiting scholar for this year, a guy from Othal. The name will be officially announced next week, but…” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Rumor has it that it’s someone of considerable renown.”

Valentina took the schedule, thanked him, and left.

The Master Weaver program was the most demanding the university had to offer. In addition to lectures and seminars, it required a genuine independent research project, along with practical exams whose requirements far exceeded anything she had completed so far.

Her research project would be in the medical field, that much was clear. Her water purification pattern and her modification of the Greystone Cascade for infection prevention provided a natural starting point, and Master Wilford in Dusktown would surely be willing to answer a few of her questions in writing, should she have any.

~

The next day an announcement was posted on the board, and within a few hours and the whole student body was talking about nothing else.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Bridgewater University is pleased to announce that the highly esteemed Johann Georg Bombastian von Agrippin, extraordinary professor at the Academy of Saint Hildemar in Agrippin, will honor the university this academic year as a visiting scholar, delivering a series of lectures on advanced Essence theory and conducting his own research at our university.

Valentina stood in front of the board and read the announcement twice, while behind her two students whispered excitedly.

“Johann Georg Bombastian von Agrippin!” said a stocky young man in his second year whom Valentina recognized by sight. “My father has read his book on symmetric resonance theory and says it’s the most brilliant thing written in the last twenty years.”

“Is it true that he caused a riot in Clairmontine?” asked the other student, a plump young woman.

“That was three years ago. He gave a guest lecture, and the discussion afterward escalated so much that first some fists flew, and then even Essence Weaving was used, there were duels. Several people were injured, and half a dozen students were expelled from the university.” The stocky one grinned. “But Von Agrippin himself is said to have stood calmly in the background, eating an apple.”

Valentina had heard the name before, of course, or rather, she’d seen it in footnotes, but she’d never read his work in detail. He was considered to be one of the most brilliant theoretical minds alive in Essence Weaving.

“Let’s see how brilliant he really is,” Vyxara giggled.

Even at lunch in the dining room, everyone was talking about nothing else. Professor Veilford, who was sitting near Valentina, Innogen, and Crispin, spoke highly of the visiting lecturer.

“Von Agrippin’s work on geometric symmetries in Essence resonance is, without exaggeration, the setting stone upon which a significant portion of modern Othal theory is built,” he said, and Valentina noticed that the old bore’s eyes were shining as they rarely did. “He freely and, if I may say so, rather loudly, asks questions that others don’t even dare to think. Whether one always likes the answers is another matter.”

“Why is he coming to Bridgewater of all places?” asked a curious student.

Veilford frowned. “Bridgewater is the premier institution of Essence Weaving in Sommerland, and the university has long sought to recruit someone of his caliber, ever since Professor Horne, uh, retired, really. Besides, the political situation in Othal is currently, well, a bit difficult, to be honest. For an unconventional thinker, a year abroad can certainly be appealing right now, I think.”

Crispin frowned. “Unconventional, ha. I suppose you could call it that.”

“Do you know his work?” Valentina asked.

“By name.” Crispin twirled his mug between his hands. “Othal has a somewhat different approach to the boundaries of acceptable knowledge than we do here in Sommerland. The scholars there sometimes venture into areas that people here, shall we say, view with a certain degree of concern.”

“The university invited him, Crispin,” Innogen replied diplomatically. “He’ll surely adapt to the local customs.”

“Sure,” said Crispin. But his gaze remained pensive, and Valentina could see that he wasn’t convinced.

Valentina looked at her class schedule. Von Agrippin’s first lecture was scheduled for next Tuesday.

“I’m definitely looking forward to it,” she said.