Our Deepest Condolences

In the dim candle light of her mother’s study, Abbie at last felt truly alone. Unable to hold in her great sorrow any longer, the girl began to sob uncontrollably. She had remained strong throughout the day, but now, with all the well-wishers and mourners gone, she felt overwhelmed. She had not expected any of this, especially before she had even reached her nineteenth birthday. The weight of it all threatened to crush her.

Even so, in time her tears were spent, or at least for the time being. The proud knight who had raised her would expect her to take charge and hold her head high. And so she would. Her aunt, Jhessa March of the Deep Umber, was yet to arrive tonight.

Jhessa March

Jhessa was as stern a priestess as her mother, but without the light touch that had made Dame Astrid such a respected regent. Jhessa was also responsible for administering the family mining business in Logash while Astrid ruled in Hillsreach as a vassal of Davin Kell. Abbie knew the relationship was cool between the two older women, although she did not know why. Astrid was not a March by birth, but had married Jhessa’s older brother. Abbie had always assumed that was at the root of it. In any case, her aunt would be here soon. She had to have it together.

Wiping away the last of the wet streaks from her cheeks, she gathered the various notes of condolence she had received from the prominent citizens of Logash. She flipped through the letters on her mother’s-- her-- desk until she could find names she recognized. Several she did not know, but there were a handful that she did.

The first was from Sir Jonas Fletcher. He sent his condolences and would attend the service. She smiled. Jonas was a good man.

Jonas Fletcher

And of course, she knew Leminnkainen Meade, and quickly read his letter. The Lord of Logash was just as committed to order as her mother had been, and on those occasions she had gone with Dame Astrid to Logash, Lord Meade had always been kind to her. His message to her now was in keeping with her memory of him. He indicated he would not be able to attend the service, though, as he was in the capital, but would call upon her when he returned. It was widely expected that Lord Meade would knight her, just as the Lord of Logash had dubbed each of the heads of House March for generations. It appeared that would have to wait for now. Abbie shrugged.

Lemminkainen Meade

The next letter she recognized was from Annah Vallant. Annah was a self-made merchant who as a young woman had come up from Yorvik during the last great silver rush and prospered selling dry goods. Dame Astrid had always spoken approvingly of Annah, and considered her a friend. She also said Annah was fair when the two would negotiate the supply contracts that kept the March family’s mining interests humming along. Abbie supposed now that she would have to negotiate a new agreement, and she hoped her mother’s assessment of Annah Vallant’s character held true.

Annah Vallant

The next letter after that was from her childhood friend, Naissa Mirian. She and Naissa had tutored together under Magda Virlych when they were children. As Abbie read the gentle words in her friend’s letter, she smiled. Naissa had been frail as a child, but fierce. She was also a genius. Or at least Abbie thought so. She was certainly a fantastically gifted wizard. Even Miss Magda had been taken aback at how quickly Naissa mastered the formula that had made Abbie’s and the other childrens’ own heads spin. She had heard that Naissa now ran an alchemical shop and sold potions to the locals. The teenager had also bought the River’s Heart Inn when the elder Fletchers retired last year. So much accomplished on her own, and at such a young age! She looked forward to seeing Naissa and catching up with her. Naissa would be a good person to help her with the people in Logash, Abbie concluded, and made a mental note to seek her out.

Naissa Mirian

The last condolence she recognized was from Torren Skiff. She frowned just a little. Torren’s family were river fishermen who chartered the exclusive right to also harvest and conserve Grays Lake just a few miles to the south of town. Torren was only a few years older than her, and had once petitioned her mother for permission to formally court Abbie. She frowned again. It hadn’t gone well. Torren was loud and plain and unpleasant and… loud. She sighed. Nevertheless, he was the heir to a very successful business, and she supposed she would have to extend her hand to him in friendship.

Torren Skiff

As she finished the stack, her maidservant entered the chamber. It had grown quite late.

“My lady, your aunt has arrived,” she began. “Would you like to speak with her, or shall I show her directly to her room?”

“Please show her to her room, Nan,” she replied. “It is late, and she must be exhausted from the trip. If she would take any refreshment, please also see to it. If she asks, tell her we shall meet first thing in the morning over breakfast.”

“As you wish, my lady,” the servant nodded approvingly as she retired. “Sleep well, Dame Abigail.”