The Unconquered Mage

by McShane, Melissa

  But I like the Imperial dress, which is a narrow-skirted underdress of fine white silk with successively shorter robes in shades of rose and violet layered over it and secured with a wide sash with tiny crystal beads embroidered onto it. Audryn told me it’s tradition for Empresses to wear their hair loose with this outfit, but I told her in formal settings, Balaenic women wear their hair twisted up in back and secured in a neat roll, and going in with my hair loose would make Domenessar think he could treat me like a child.

  So we finally got my hair arranged, and I was walking around, trying to get used to the short steps I had to take because of the skirt, when Cederic came in to change and I had to shoo my friends away. When they were gone, he put his hands on my waist, and said, “It is a pity you do not have time to get dressed twice, because I find myself very interested in removing those robes from your body and exploring what I find there.”

  “You’d mess up my hair,” I said, but I put my arms around his neck. “But I will have to change later, and I suppose I could use some help.”

  “I volunteer,” he said, with a little smile that dared me to kiss him, so I did. Then he kissed me. And then we were on our way to mussing me completely until I came to my senses and pushed him away. “We have to show self-control, Cederic, we represent an Empire now,” I told him.

  “You make it very difficult for me to maintain my self-possessed demeanor,” he said, but he stepped away from me and undressed. “But then I remember it is beneath the dignity of the Emperor for him to sweep his wife off her feet and kiss her thoroughly in public.”

  “I’m glad you’re allowed to do that in private,” I said. Cederic’s Imperial clothing is similar to mine, except he has wide-legged loose trousers and a sleeveless shirt to go under all his robes, which are gold as well as violet. “I’m still worried I won’t know what to say to Domenessar. And I feel slightly awkward knowing I stole his wife’s ruby bracelet five years ago, even though he can’t possibly know it was me.”

  “Speak the truth,” he said, “though of course not about the bracelet.” He crouched over his trunk and came out with a couple of black velvet boxes, each about ten inches square and two inches deep. “If General Tarallan is correct, and I see no reason to doubt him, Domenessar prizes plain speaking. I imagine he will respect you for giving him direct answers.”

  “Unless he thinks I shouldn’t speak to him at all because I’m a woman,” I said.

  “In which case there is nothing we can do, since I prefer you remain a woman,” Cederic said. He opened one of the boxes and removed a thick circle of gold. “It would be inappropriate for us to wear the Imperial crowns, as they are for full state occasions, and the semi-formal coronets were lost in the palace’s collapse. These are the Torques of Rule worn by a Castaviran Empress and her Emperor-Consort over three hundred years ago, and while Domenessar will not know their significance, I think they will be a powerful reminder to us of why we are here.”

  I accepted the one he held out to me. It’s a semi-circle—more than a semi-circle, almost a full circle, but with a palm-width arc cut out of it—of gold that looks like a braided rope, only rigid. At both of the open ends are golden maple leaves. It has just enough give to slip around my neck, where it settles so the leaves brush my collarbones. It is heavy. If it really is solid gold, and why wouldn’t it be, I could sell it and live off the proceeds for a year. Not that I would—oh, that’s right, it’s actually mine and not something I stole.

  It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea that I’m wealthy now, at least in the sense of having the use of the riches of the Castaviran Empire (if we win). I don’t actually own this Torque of Rule so much as have it on permanent loan. But that’s so close to owning it makes no difference.

  I wonder about the wisdom of putting a thief on the throne of two countries. Though…who better than a thief to safeguard the treasures of a kingdom? Something for me to think about. Maybe I need to stop calling myself a thief.

  Anyway.

  I put mine on, then Cederic and I examined each other’s costumes for flaws (and managed not to examine anything else, thank you very much), then he offered me his arm and we went to where the Imperial party was gathering.

  I wasn’t looking forward to riding Buttercup, or whatever the beast’s name is. Even though she’d been well-behaved during my riding lessons, I knew she was just waiting for the best, most humiliating time to drop me on my ass. This processional through the streets of Barrekel would qualify. But I smiled, and let a soldier help me mount—I don’t know where they found a saddle that would accommodate my narrow skirt, but it’s even less comfortable than the regular kind—and gripped the reins the way I’d been told, not clutching them like they’re my worst enemy’s throat, and followed Cederic and Mattiak and the flags out of the camp toward Barrekel.

  Barrekel is the second-largest city in Balaen, after Venetry, and it’s growing fast. A lot of people on the east coast would like it to be our capital, since it’s more central (and there’s some concern about Venetry being so close to the Fensadderian border), which means there are people who, without coming out and saying it, would like Arron Domenessar to be Balaen’s King. It has no city wall, just three big arches where the major roads converge on the city, that mark the unofficial city limits. Much as I feel at home in Venetry, I like Barrekel’s architecture, which has a southern influence with all those big windows and covered promenades. There always seems to be some kind of construction project going on when I come here, which tells me it’s a prosperous city—though from all the times I’ve stolen from the wealthy of Barrekel, I already knew that.

  People came out to watch us as we passed. They were mostly silent, whispering to each other, but I could hear the occasional louder murmur. That was reassuring, because it was clear some of them had seen the handbills we’d sent on ahead with Terrael’s envoy or heard his proclamation and were enlightening the others. On the other hand, nobody cheered our names, which satisfied Sesskia the thief perfectly, but worried Sesskia the Empress-Consort quite a lot. I’d hoped at least some of them would welcome us, but that wasn’t the case. At least they weren’t throwing things.

  We proceeded in this manner through the arch, very slowly, giving the beast no opportunity to turn on me. The crowds were growing thick now, and the murmuring was louder. Then one of the flag-bearers shouted “Make way for Cederic, Emperor of Balaen and Castavir! Make way for Sesskia, Empress-Consort!” and the murmuring got really loud.

  Someone shouted “What happened to the King?” and someone else shouted “Who cares?” A few people cheered. A few more people scuffled over who knows what. Cederic still had his usual public face, smooth and impassive, though he was waving at the crowd and nodding at people who didn’t acknowledge him. I guess we were more entertainment than Barrekel had seen in a while.

  I’ve never been inside Dessani Manor, but I’ve seen it several times. It’s got a wide colonnade surrounding it, roofed against the summer sun, and its walls are stucco the way about a third of the buildings in Barrekel are, white that blinds you in the full sunlight but looks drab on an overcast day like this one.

  We passed through the colonnade into a courtyard surrounded on three sides by a covered porch that led deeper into the manor. We dismounted—I had help, but I still was awkward—and a man dressed in royal livery, with the knot of rank on the shoulder that said he was seconded to Domenessar’s household, indicated we should follow. Our group was arranged in a way that was supposed to convey some subtle hints about each person’s status, but all I knew was I walked next to Cederic and everyone else was arranged around us, which made me feel relieved that an assassin would have to work really hard to get at my husband.

  I was surprised at how plain the inside of Dessani Manor was. Some kinds of plain are really just a type of elegance, flower arrangements with a single rose and a pile of exquisitely arranged pebbles, or a simple gold chain whose links are perfection, but this was the kind of plain that s
ays the person who owns the house can’t be bothered with interior décor. I guess that makes some sense, given that this is the center of government and not someone’s home, but in all the other cities where the Lord Governor lives somewhere other than where government business is handled, the government manors at least look as if someone cares about their appearance. I don’t know that it means anything, but it was strange.

  We ended up at a pointed archway (this was another thing about the manor, it didn’t have a lot of doors, at least on the ground level, mostly open archways and a few curtained openings) through which we found a chamber about forty feet on a side, with a dais and a carved wooden chair at the far end.

  I watched Cederic for cues and stopped when he did. Terrael, at the front of our group, stepped forward and said, “Lord Arron Domenessar, the Emperor of Castavir and Balaen, Cederic Aleynten, and the Empress-Consort, Sesskia of Balaen.” Then the people standing in front of us stepped to the sides, parting in the middle as neatly as a ship’s prow parts the waves, and I got my first look at Arron Domenessar.

  He is extremely handsome. I mean, I love my husband, I think he looks wonderful, but objectively, Domenessar is the sort of man people fantasize about. He has wavy light brown hair, a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and the most perfect nose I’ve ever seen. My first thought, on looking at him, was He and the God-Empress would have the most beautiful children. My second thought was He does not look friendly. His perfect mouth was pinched, like he’d smelled something bad, and his brow furrowed in annoyance, which made him look marginally less handsome.

  Cederic took three steps forward, so I did too. He inclined his head slightly and said, “Lord Domenessar. Thank you for your welcome.”

  I bowed my head too, but said nothing. We both knew he hadn’t welcomed us, unless you count not having us attacked and killed as a welcome. Domenessar sat in silence, glaring at us. Cederic, as usual, looked impassive. I tried to look friendly and open. Then Domenessar said, in an unexpectedly ugly, gravelly voice, “Is this a joke?”

  I looked at Cederic, who raised an eyebrow and said, “I assure you, we are entirely serious. I intend to rule Balaen and Castavir, and I assert I will do it more responsibly than Balaen's current king, something I am certain you believe.”

  Domenessar stood rapidly. “You come into my audience hall and mock me and my people and you expect my compliance with your farce?” he shouted.

  Cederic didn’t flinch. “No mockery was intended,” he began.

  “And there you do it again!” Domenessar said, and I realized what the problem was. Cederic’s drawling Balaenic accent sounded exactly as if he were doing it on purpose to copy Domenessar’s speech.

  “Lord Domenessar, the Emperor learned our language from someone from Barrekel,” I said, seizing on a lie as easier than explaining about kathanas and risking a true eruption if he were one of those afraid of magic. “His accent is in no way a mockery of you. It truly is how he speaks.”

  Domenessar turned on me. “You,” he said, slightly calmer but still with that furrow to his brow. “You call yourself Sesskia of Balaen. What is your surname?”

  “I don’t have one,” I said, feeling my stomach begin to churn in anxious anticipation.

  “No surname? What is your placename, then?” he said.

  “I am from Thalessa,” I began.

  “That’s no answer,” he said, his voice growing louder.

  “You will not speak to the Empress-Consort in that tone, sir,” Cederic said, his voice icy.

  “She’s not my Empress,” Domenessar said. “What is it, woman?”

  I stiffened my spine, but I knew the second the words left my lips, it was all over. “Thalessi Scales,” I said.

  Domenessar began to laugh. “A fishmonger?” he exclaimed. “And you choose to set her on the throne next to you? Is she really the best you could do in your grab for legitimacy?”

  “Sesskia’s birth is irrelevant,” Cederic said. I glanced at him and saw his fist was clenched so hard the tendons were standing out on his wrist. “She is a strong, intelligent woman who will defend your country against all comers. Especially the weak, easily-led man currently sitting on your throne.”

  “And you think you can do better, foreigner,” Domenessar said.

  “I am certain of it,” Cederic replied coolly. “I have the backing of the Castaviran Empire and I now request the support of the Lords Governor of Balaen. Support my claim, and you will have power in the new government. Choose to follow Garran Clendessar, and I cannot promise your safety.”

  Domenessar glared at him. “You, Tarallan,” he said without looking aside. “What are you doing attached to this farce?”

  “It’s no farce, Domenessar,” Mattiak said. “The King has thrown in with a madwoman who will bring Balaen to destruction. I’ve given my allegiance to the Emperor.”

  “And you’ve given him the forces of the Balaenic Army, no doubt,” Domenessar said. “The more fool you.”

  “Then you will not support us,” Cederic said.

  Domenessar turned and flung himself back into his chair. “You’ve got balls of solid brass, that’s for sure,” he said, “but you don’t have anything else. You don’t have the right to rule Balaen, and your fishmonger wife sure as hell doesn’t have a claim to it either. But you’re right about one thing: Garran Clendessar’s time is done. And I intend to do something about it.”

  “You will raise your standard against your King,” Cederic said.

  “Why not? It seems everyone is doing it,” Domenessar said. “Come spring I’ll raise the country against him. They already look to me as their ruler; this will simply make it official.”

  “You won’t have the Army,” Mattiak said.

  “Neither will you,” Domenessar said. “I’ve already sent word to Generals Gradden and Ellert that they’re not to allow you into the military encampment. You may be Commander General, but they take their orders from me. Come spring we will ride out against that city of yours again, and from there I will bring Balaen under my rule and crush you foreigners under my boot.”

  “You are making a mistake,” Cederic said.

  “Not as big as the one you have, trying to claim superiority over Balaen when you’ve no authority,” Domenessar said. “Get out of my hall. And be grateful I think so little of your power I don’t just have you killed.”

  Without even thinking twice I began to work the fire-rope pouvra. Let him think little of my power when he’s writhing in pain on the floor, I thought. But Cederic turned and looked at me, exactly as if he knew what I was thinking, and shook his head, the tiniest of gestures. I glared at him, but subsided. I still think the fire rope should be an option in the future. Fishmonger.

  Cederic said, “I am sorry we could not come to an agreement. Thank you for your time,” and turned and walked away too rapidly, not waiting for our escort to keep formation. I had to trot along in my tiny constrained steps to keep up with him. We swiftly left the manor and as swiftly mounted our horses and rode out of Barrekel. The crowds had dispersed somewhat while we were inside, but gathered again quickly. I half-expected them to intuit what their Lord Governor had said and scream and throw rotten vegetables at us, but they just muttered as they had before, and after what felt like two forevers we were back at the camp and dismounting. I stumbled coming off the beast, and Cederic caught my elbow to keep me from falling, but he squeezed so tightly I had to suppress a gasp. He didn’t notice.

  “General Tarallan, you must go immediately to the Barrekellian forces and give orders to its generals,” he said. “We must claim their allegiance now, before they have time to think Domenessar’s instructions over thoroughly.”

  “Your Majesty, if Domenessar has already sent Roebart and Soessan their orders, it’s probably too late,” Mattiak said.

  “So long as Domenessar has not yet fielded an army, it is not too late,” Cederic said. “We must gain their allegiance to join us when spring comes.”

  “But Domenes
sar’s going to raise his banner in spring,” I said.

  “He will try. He will not succeed,” Cederic said. “Now, General. If you please.” It didn’t sound like a polite request. It sounded like the command of an Emperor. Mattiak gestured to Bronnok and Drussik, nodded at Kalanik—sometimes I think they have some kind of mind-reading pouvra—and once more mounted and rode away from the encampment.

  “General Kalanik, pass the word that we will ride out in the morning,” Cederic said. “I wish to meet with the quartermasters in half an hour to assess our supply situation. We will proceed to Teliarne to gather the Helvirite Army, and we cannot depend on them to have the supplies our forces will need. Sesskia, come with me.” He took my hand and pulled me along after him, forcing me again to trot to keep up with his longer stride. I yanked on his hand, which didn’t make him release me—he has a grip like a clocker crab—but it did slow him down enough that he looked at me, registered the annoyance on my face, and stopped and let go of me. “I apologize,” he said. “Will you walk with me?”

  This time, he offered me his arm, and I hooked my hand around the crook of his elbow and we proceeded, more slowly, to our tent. Once inside, he stepped away from me, sat down heavily on the flat lid of his trunk, covered his face with one hand, and said, “I do not believe I have ever been so close to killing someone as I was in that audience hall. You should not have had to endure such insults.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me that would happen,” I said. “I thought making the point that I’m Balaenic would matter more. I should have realized these nobles won’t respect anyone who doesn’t have ‘ssar’ after their name.”