“But how is that possible?” I said. “Did the convergence do something?”
“I have no more idea than you what might have happened,” he said. “But I think your mages now have a more urgent problem to solve than bringing magic together.”
“We need to know if the weakening is getting worse,” I agreed. “Will it be all right if I don’t join you for the journey to Lethess tomorrow?”
“I think we have established—my apologies—that your presence matters little to these Lords Governor who can see only that you have no surname,” he said. “So I would not have asked you to come in any case. Your efforts are better spent here, at least for now.”
I don’t know what we’re going to do. We’ve been complaining of tiredness, of difficulties, for weeks now without realizing it wasn’t just us. If things are getting worse, and we missed our opportunity to keep that from happening…no, that’s paranoia talking, because there’s no reason to believe the worst has happened. I’m going to bed now, and in the morning I’ll be able to face this better. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all.
24 Jennitar
We did a lot of experiments today, all of which proved magic is weaker than it used to be. No way to tell if it’s growing weaker over time. We all think, looking back on the past few weeks, that it has been getting harder to work magic—for example, how the warming th’an seemed to be less effective—but that could be paranoia.
Anyway, we succeeded in exhausting ourselves, physically, mentally, and spiritually, because not only do we not know what to do about it (if there’s anything we can do about it) there wasn’t any indication in all our previous research that this was a possibility. I haven’t felt this discouraged since I was trying and failing to manifest the fire-rope pouvra under threat of the God-Empress’s lethal displeasure. I’m doing everything I can to keep the others from picking up on it.
Chapter Eleven
25 Jennitar
No time for research, because Cederic told me this morning (I went to bed early and slept like the dead for ten hours, and he was at Lethess all day, so this was the first I’d spoken to him since yesterday around noon) all about what happened, which was a surprise on every count:
1. Granea Amelessar was cautiously welcoming of our Imperial party.
2. She had a lot of questions about the political situation, including the King’s upcoming wedding.
2a. All the Balaenic cities have been receiving handbills announcing this blessed event, playing up the new spirit of union between our countries.
3. Amelessar thinks the King is a spineless weasel not fit to govern a herd of goats. (This was her exact phrase.)
4. She wants to meet the Balaenic woman who thinks she’s capable of governing both countries.
So the result of all this is we went back to Lethess this morning specifically for me to meet the Lord Governor. I asked Cederic, “Are you sure she understands I’m a nameless nobody? This isn’t at all the welcome I expected.”
“I did not make the explicit point that you have no surname,” Cederic said, “but I made no secret of it. Lady Amelessar did not comment on that. She is an unusual woman. When I asked about the raids Lethess had made on our Castaviran towns, she said she believed there had been misunderstandings arising from the original violence between Lethess and Pfulerre, and she put an end to those raids when she learned about them. I could not tell if she was being disingenuous, which disturbs me, as I am usually good at discerning motives. But she also seemed unconcerned about the size of the escort we brought to the meeting, which suggests she understands our security concerns and is not offended by our precautions. Overall, she is a woman I think we would do well to ally with, even if her province is not large or tactically important.”
“Having the allegiance of one Lord Governor is a step toward convincing the others to join us,” I pointed out, “so it’s worth doing.”
“I agree,” Cederic said. “We will again meet her outside the city—her suggestion. I wish I could tell you what to be prepared for.”
“Then I’ll just have to be prepared for anything, as usual,” I said, which made him laugh.
I found out the horse’s name is actually Thistle, which strikes me as a good name for her—apparently soft and pretty, but spiky if you handle her the wrong way. She’s still behaving herself. For now. And I’m getting more comfortable with riding, though I don’t think I’ll ever love horses the way Mattiak does. He’s more friendly with Thistle than I am and has chastised me for not being nicer to her. I’d tell him he can ride her if he likes her so much, but even I can tell he’s far too big for her.
Anyway, she was docile enough when we rode to our meeting, which was at a pavilion set up near the city limits. Even the smallest, poorest houses of Lethess are brightly painted. It’s a matter of civic pride to look good even if you’re having trouble feeding yourself, which is really the only criticism I have of the place. We could see some of these houses nearby, painted yellow or turquoise or bright green like candies, and it made me sad it wasn’t safe for us to ride into the city and see some of the beautiful buildings Lethess is famous for, or walk on the beach.
The pavilion was watched over by a detachment of men in the Lethess city guard uniform, something I’m glad to say doesn’t strike fear into my heart, because Lethess is probably the only city I’ve never stolen anything from and therefore have never had to escape the local constabulary.
Huh. I never realized how much I like the place until I wrote about it.
They looked stern enough, though I know they aren’t nearly as efficient as, for example, Thalessa’s guardsmen, and I’m pretty sure they could have fought us off if we’d been inclined to attack Amelessar. They watched us approach without showing any nervousness, and we dismounted about twenty yards from the pavilion, a good safe distance for both of us, and Cederic and I, with Mattiak and about half a dozen soldiers, approached the tent and damn if they didn’t actually salute us. Not the royal salute, but definitely one of subordinate to noble. That baffled and cheered me at the same time.
There were only four people inside the tent. Two of them were guardsmen, but bigger than the ones outside. They were also unarmed. I think they were Amelessar’s personal bodyguards. I know we had them outnumbered, and our soldiers had their swords, but they stood like men who were capable of taking someone’s head off with their bare hands.
The other two were women. One of them had gray hair and a deeply lined face, and wore trousers and shirt of a very fine make. The other was younger, with dark blond hair like mine but streaked with white—I think she was close to fifty—that she wore pulled tightly back from her face. She wore a silk gown with a full skirt that looked like it would be difficult to run in, and her expression was completely neutral. She was seated in one of three chairs, none of them the folding camp kind, and had her hands neatly folded in her lap.
I looked up at Cederic, who was surveying the room. He said, without turning his head, “General Tarallan, if you would ask your men to withdraw, and please give them your sword.”
Now I looked at Mattiak, who clearly thought this was the worst idea Cederic had ever had, but he removed his sword belt and handed it to the nearest soldier, and that soldier and the others left the tent. Cederic inclined his head toward the younger woman and said, “Thank you for your welcome, Lady Amelessar. May I introduce the Empress-Consort, Sesskia of Balaen.”
I nodded to her, trying to copy Cederic—I feel awkward not knowing how to salute people, whether there are degrees of respect I owe people of different rank—and Amelessar nodded back, equal to equal. I took this to mean she hadn’t yet made up her mind how to treat us rather than a deliberate slight. She indicated the chairs and said, “Thank you for coming. Please sit.”
We took our seats, and Cederic said, “I have instructed the villages who claim to have been raided by your people to cease raiding in return. I hope this will mean an end to hostilities.”
“I’ve in
vestigated what you told me and determined my people were to blame as well,” Amelessar said. “We want to live in peace with our new neighbors.” Then she smiled, and added, “We recognize we’re in a weak position, given that your city—Pfulerre, is it?—is twice our size. So I admit our desire for peace isn’t exactly noble.”
“I do not intend to rule a subjugated Balaen,” Cederic said. “But I cannot yet guarantee that every Castaviran town will be as amenable to that goal. This is why I request your fealty. Bringing our countries together requires both to desire that outcome.”
“I’m not yet convinced your plan is sound, Aleynten,” Amelessar said. Her face had gone back to that neutral expression. “But it’s your Empress-Consort I want to talk to. Sesskia of Balaen. Are you ashamed of having no surname, that you use our country’s name instead? And offer your praenoma so freely?”
“I’m not ashamed,” I said, trying not to look startled at her directness. “But I think everyone should be aware I want to represent Balaen’s interests in bringing our countries together rather than those of a single city. And I think—we think—an Empress-Consort ought to show her people she trusts and respects them by offering the gift of her praenoma.”
“And you believe you’re qualified to bring our countries together,” Amelessar said.
“I’ve traveled Balaen for ten years,” I said. “I’ve lived in every major city and I’ve visited hundreds of smaller ones. I know what our people are like and I think I know what they need, or at least what they say they need. I know what it’s like to be poor and I’ve seen how the rich live, and I think they’re not so different as we imagine. And I’m committed to seeing that Castavir doesn’t dominate Balaen, and that Balaen doesn’t overrun Castavir. I wouldn’t say I’m the most qualified, because I don’t know every person who might fill this role. But I’ve already risked my life to save this world, so I think that puts me at the front of the line.”
“This world,” Amelessar said. I kicked myself mentally for that slip. “You claim our countries were once two worlds, and our current situation is the result of them coming back together.”
I had no idea what Cederic was thinking and didn’t dare look at him for fear of showing weakness. “It’s true,” I said.
“And you were a part of this…convergence? That’s what you mean when you say you risked your life?” Amelessar said.
“I was responsible for bringing them together safely, yes,” I said.
The older woman said, “They had to slip into each other, correct?”
That startled me. “Yes,” I said.
“Then you must know the walk-through-walls pouvra,” she said. I nearly fell off my chair.
“You are a mage,” Cederic said, sounding slightly shaken—probably I was the only one who noticed.
The woman raised one hand, then brought it down to slide through the back of Amelessar’s chair, taking on the strange glinting shift things get when they’re immaterial. I looked at her closely for the first time and realized that, yes, her eyes were green-grey behind those wrinkles.
“I have been a mage for twenty years, and Granea has protected me for five of those,” she said. “It wasn’t until the convergence, when all the other mages began appearing, that I dared show my abilities in public. Lethess has become a haven, these last few months, for those who need its shelter.”
“We saw you had the characteristic eyes of a mage, Aleynten,” Amelessar said, “but I couldn’t be certain—even if you were a mage, that might not make you someone we could trust. Then you told us about the convergence, and it was clear you were downplaying your abilities as if you were afraid we’d fear you. That concerned me, because it suggested you might be concealing your powers to catch us off-guard before attacking. So I decided I had to meet your wife. I wanted to know if you’d married some Balaenic woman for a show of egalitarianism, or if you were sincere in what you claimed.” She looked at me for a long moment, then said, “You should have married a noblewoman. It would boost your claim with the Lords Governor.”
“We were married well before all of this, Lady Amelessar,” I said, feeling irritated, “and Cederic is intelligent, but he’s not a heartless pragmatist.”
“I meant that as a commentary on my fellow rulers,” Amelessar said, “not as a slight on you. Show me what you are capable of.”
It took me a second to realize she was talking about magic, and then I despaired, remembering what we’d learned about magic weakening and how exhausting this was going to be. But I made both kinds of fire, then threw water at the back wall of the pavilion, went insubstantial, and finally concealed myself, which got a reaction out of the meaty bodyguards. “I can do others, but most of them don’t have obvious effects,” I said, feeling too tired for anything else—I don’t think it was real tiredness, just the emotional weariness.
The older woman watched me intently, and when I was done, said, “I didn’t know there were so many pouvrin in the world, let alone that a person might possess so many of them. I manifested this one at my awakening, and I learned the see-through pouvra almost by accident—by way of an old book I happened upon in the course of my work. I was a librarian in Garwin for many years.”
“It took a lot of effort,” I said. “Though it seems some of the new mages have learned others…by accident, I suppose you could say.”
“We’ve seen that too,” the woman said. She held out her hand, palm-first, and said, “I wish to give you the freedom of my praenoma, which is Orenna.”
“And I am Sesskia,” I said, saluting her and completing the ritual even though she already knew my praenoma.
Orenna and Amelessar exchanged glances, then Amelessar rose. “I will insist on keeping my position as Lord Governor of Lethess, or whatever it will be called when this transition is complete,” she said, offering her hand to Cederic.
He saluted her, Balaenic-style, with no hesitation, and said, “I would be a fool to remove you from office, I think.”
“You would,” she agreed. “Give me a few days to spread the word, and then Lethess would like to welcome you formally…your Majesty.”
“My thanks, Lord Governor,” Cederic said, inclining his head to her. Amelessar turned to me and extended her hand in salute. “Your Majesty,” she said, “I think you will serve both our countries well.”
“I’m honored by your trust, Lord Governor,” I said, “and I wish you would call me Sesskia.” I was taking a chance, but I felt instinctively I wanted her as a personal ally and not just as a…I don’t know what the Lords Governor and the consuls are to us; vassal sounds so archaic, subordinate sounds as if they don’t wield any power. Anyway, whatever that is, I wanted something different from her.
She smiled at me, this little self-deprecating smile I’ve seen often on her since. “Then I offer you the freedom of my praenoma, which is Granea,” she said, “and I thank you.”
There wasn’t much more to say, but I did talk to Orenna for a while, which resulted in me going into Lethess itself, finally, to talk to the Lethessian mages, with Mattiak as my scowling bodyguard. It was his decision, even though I fought him on the grounds the Commander General had better things to do with his time than babysit. He countered by saying if I were assassinated, Cederic would kill him and none of those things would matter.
They were a much more timid lot than ours. With no King to declare mages were not dangerous, they’d been hunted, and a lot of other mages had been killed. I think the only things that’ve spared our combined countries more bloodshed are the relatively great spaces between our cities and the fact that the armed forces of both countries are concentrated in only a few places. Though we’ve heard a few stories of places where Balaen and Castavir are getting along, which is heartening, or would be if it didn’t point up so starkly how bad it was elsewhere.
Anyway. The Lethessian mages were thrilled to see me even before they knew I was their new Empress-Consort, and I’m pretty sure about half of them weren’t convinced about that. But
you’re either a mage or you aren’t, and they were all impressed at how many pouvrin I had. After demonstrating magic to them, I really was tired, which reminded me to ask if they’d noticed any changes over the last few months, and every one of them said they’d noticed it was getting harder, and more tiring, to work magic, and it had in fact been a gradually increasing problem. So I guess that’s one more thing toward proving that theory.
A few of them were from Thalessa, and we talked a bit about the city, and what had happened there. There was quite a bit of destruction, they’d said, big chunks of the city just crumbling. I guess the remnants of those failed Castaviran settlements were still large enough to interfere with the convergence. It meant Thalessa was in enough turmoil those mages escaped easily by comparison to some.
None of the five had come from the poorer side of town, so we didn’t have a lot of shared experiences. I think they guessed I’d been destitute, because by the end of the conversation there were a lot of pauses that said they didn’t know how a pauper brat from the wrong side of town was qualified to rule anything more than a dung heap. It made me uncomfortable enough that I excused myself, saying I’d return sometime and not sure I meant it.
Then it was time for dinner, and now I’m so exhausted I can’t believe I managed to write all this down. Tomorrow I have to work on this problem of magic…I hope it’s not disappearing. I can’t bear the thought of not having it.
26 Jennitar
Well, if magic is weakening—which is to say, we know it’s weaker, yes—but if it’s growing weaker over time, it’s so gradual we can’t see it happening. More of the mages in our camp are taking part in our research. The news that magic was fading was like a revelation—everyone had noticed the problem, but thought it was their imagination or something, and now everyone has theories about what’s happening:
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