The conversation ended with Smug Git being very sarcastic at Terrael, who to my surprise didn’t cringe at all, just glared at him in defiance. Then Smug Git turned his back on us and went back to doing something at the circle. Terrael looked furious. He actually walked several steps away before remembering me and beckoning me to follow. We left by the other corridor, and I was right, it’s one big corridor looping around one side of the cavern. Terrael didn’t say anything else, just led me to this room, bowed, and left. Without locking the door. I wonder if they’ve decided that’s pointless.
This is a much nicer room, an actual bedroom with a narrow bed and dresser and wardrobe, more or less like the room I hid in. From what I’ve seen, all the bedrooms are on the inner side of the curve, and the rooms on the outer side are sitting rooms—that’s more of a guess. The rooms aren’t plain enough, or I’d think this was some kind of barracks. Maybe it’s the uniformity of dress; I haven’t seen a single person who wasn’t wearing a smudged gray robe and black trousers. It’s strange, and it makes my skin crawl, and the sooner I find a way out, the happier I’ll be.
17 Senessay
I’m feeling overwhelmed, so I’m just going to start at the beginning and hope writing it all down calms me. I’m fairly certain about the date, but that’s the only thing I’m sure of anymore.
The new bedroom was still a cell, if a nicer one. People brought me meals, and the lights dimmed by themselves after a time—I think the lights in my first cell didn’t work properly—so I slept when it was dark and paced the room and practiced pouvrin when it was light. I gained enough control over the mind-moving pouvra that I could lift the bed, the dresser, and the wardrobe all at once. Only an inch or two, and only for a few seconds, but it was exciting. But that’s not what has me overwhelmed. I went back and re-read the first page of this book, just to be certain I haven’t forgotten my own language. Though if I’m writing in it now—see how flustered it’s made me? But I’m getting ahead of myself again.
I didn’t see Terrael yesterday or today, and I was surprised at how disappointed I was. I mean, I couldn’t understand him, but at least he was nice and didn’t treat me like a problem. I poked my head out of the door a few times and there was a single guard, so either they were feeling more sure of me or they’ve given up on trying to contain me and that was a token. I smiled and waved at the guard (a man) and he watched me impassively until I got bored and went back inside. I decided I was going to make another escape attempt tonight when the lights went dark.
Except before that happened, Terrael appeared. He no longer looked confident. He looked like a boy about to do something that would get him into trouble. He came into my room, shut the door, and made a pinching gesture in front of his lips I guessed meant “be quiet.” As if anything I might say would be meaningful, no matter how loudly I said it. Then he opened the door and gestured for me to precede him. In the hall, he said something to the guard, who nodded. He looked bored. I couldn’t blame him.
I followed Terrael down the corridor and into the cavern again. It was quieter, less busy, like a marketplace where almost everyone has closed up shop for the day. Terrael was walking casually now, greeting the people we passed, stopping to exchange a few words with a pretty young woman whose hair was fastened with a jeweled clasp, polished jasper with cabochon garnets, reasonably valuable if only for the craftsmanship. It was the first sign of individuality I’d seen in any of these people in their identical clothes and hairstyles, and also the first thing I’d seen worth stealing.
Eventually we made it around the perimeter of the cavern to a door, metal like all the ones in the corridor, but wider, and Terrael took out a large key and unlocked it, then shooed me inside with the first hint of nervousness he’d displayed so far.
The room beyond was much larger than the corridor rooms, though of course nothing near as big as the cavern, and was brightly lit. And it was filled with castoffs. I didn’t recognize a single thing there, but I’ve been stealing from great estates long enough to recognize a room where unwanted things are stored. Almost all of the things were made primarily of metal, and they were all intricately decorated with engravings that reminded me of the maybe-letters on the glass light baskets.
I tried to pick up a sphere of overlapping bronze strips like an enclosed basket, and Terrael yanked my hand away, shaking his head vigorously in a way that told me, first, that ‘no’ was in fact a universal gesture, and second, he absolutely did not want me to touch anything. Naturally, this made me want to touch everything I could get my hands on, but there was fear on Terrael’s face that made me put my hands in my pockets. I was planning to go back there for some real exploration, but after what’s happened, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.
Terrael sidled to the back of the room, carefully not touching anything himself, and soon disappeared behind a tall slab of greenish copper that looked like a horse trough stood on end. I waited, jamming my hands firmly into my trouser pockets in case they decided to do some exploring on their own, and eventually he came back holding a helmet. No, it was more of a cap made of black iron, and for a wonder it wasn’t covered with scribbles. There was a blank band all the way around the rim that was smoother and shinier than the rest of the cap.
Terrael held it out to me, and I took it. It felt like cold metal, and nothing happened to me when I touched it, so I turned it upside down to look into it. The inside of the cap had these hair-fine traceries all over it, as if someone had done lacework on it in molten iron. I ran my finger over the lines, and it still only felt cold.
Terrael nudged me, and made a gesture like he was putting something on his head. I looked at the cap again. Suddenly it seemed sinister, all this secrecy, Terrael acting tense and telling me not to touch anything, and then handing this thing over as if it were nothing. When I didn’t respond right away, Terrael made an exasperated sound, took the cap from me, and put it on his head. Nothing happened. He took it off and offered it to me with a “see, it’s harmless” look.
So I put it on. It was far too big for my head, and canted over my left ear. I must have looked so stupid—I certainly felt stupid, standing there in that room surrounded by mysterious cast-off things, with Terrael beaming at me as if, once again, I’d performed a trick and deserved a reward. Then he looked around, made that exasperated noise again, and cleared a spot on a nearby counter until he had a bare space about five feet across. He pointed at it, but it wasn’t until he sat on the counter himself that I figured out that’s what he wanted me to do. It wasn’t a very tall counter, but I’m not a very tall woman, and my feet dangled.
Terrael started muttering to himself. It was the kind of muttering you do when you’re going over a complicated project in your head, like planning to break into one of the royal manors, so I didn’t feel obliged to pay any attention to him. He reached inside his robe and pulled out a pot with a stoppered lid and a small brush, its skinny bristles no longer than my pinky nail.
The pot turned out to be full of silvery ink or paint. Terrael came to stand close in front of me and began painting on the brim of the cap. Every few minutes he would rotate the cap on my head to paint a new section, making the lacework tug on my hair. I wished I could ask him questions—hah! That’s funny now. Anyway, I stayed patient because I was curious about what he was doing. I don’t know if it’s good or not that I didn’t run away.
Finally, he stepped back, and his eyes focused on mine again. He looked serious, like saying goodbye forever serious, and I got nervous and was about to take the cap off when he reached out with the brush and made a final mark on the cap.
It felt like my head exploded. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever imagined possible, and I wanted to rip the cap off my head and throw it at Terrael’s face, but my entire body was paralyzed. I found later I’d fallen off the counter, but at the time I couldn’t feel anything but the pain that radiated from my forehead through my entire body. Phantom smells of ash and rainwater filled my nostrils, and I tasted sal
t. I couldn’t see or hear anything at all, not even the screaming I’m sure I was doing.
And then I could hear too much, all these voices shouting in hundreds of languages, none of which I understood. Somewhere in there I blacked out, I think, because the sound went from being hundreds of voices to only one, high-pitched like a woman’s, chanting. I still couldn’t understand it, but then I realized I could move—that’s when I found I was on the floor. I had the cap off my head and flung across the room before I discovered I wasn’t in pain anymore, and I could see.
What I saw, from my perspective on the floor, were two pairs of sandaled feet attached to two pairs of black trousers. Terrael was arguing with Smug Git, and this is the overwhelming part—I listened to their conversation for nearly a minute before I realized I understood what they were saying. It staggered me to the point that I can’t remember now what their exact words were, just that Smug Git was furious with Terrael about what he’d done with the cap, and Terrael, surprisingly, was standing up to him and saying something like “it was worth the risk.”
I got to my feet, and they both stopped arguing. Smug Git said, “We will have to watch her to see if any permanent damage was done.” The way he said it, like I was some kind of injured animal, made me angry, so I said—I can’t remember exactly, that’s how angry I was—“Oh, yes, let’s hope she didn’t sustain any permanent damage, that would be so inconvenient for you” and that’s as far as my anger took me before I realized I was speaking their language, and that startled me so much I shrieked and clapped my hands over my mouth.
Terrael’s mouth fell open. Smug Git raised one eyebrow again—really, that makes him look even more arrogant and annoying than he naturally does. “It worked,” he said. He made it sound like the whole thing was his idea.
It sounded like Terrael felt the same way, and he said, “Just as I said, Sai Aleynten,” and I could practically hear him thinking I told you so, though he was careful not to sound rude. Smug Git nodded once, and said, “Take her back to her room, Master Peressten, and I will interrogate her in the morning.”
I didn’t like being referred to in the third person, and I really didn’t like the sound of “interrogate.” I said, “You brought me here, maybe I should be interrogating you.” It wasn’t much, but I couldn’t stand there and not defy him. It’s his face.
He turned that cold, indifferent gaze on me, then said “In the morning, Master Peressten,” and walked away. So I lost my temper and summoned the fire in a circle around him. Terrael cried out and took a step toward the git, who turned smoothly on his heel, made a few gestures like writing on the air—and I flew back into the counter I’d been sitting on. It knocked the air out of me, and I lost control of the fire and it went out, but obviously what really stunned me was seeing him work that pouvra. Never mind that I couldn’t do anything nearly so powerful; what was the gesturing for? Pouvrin come from inside you, something you encompass with your mind and then turn outward. If I gestured all the time when I did magic, I’d be captured instantly. So—
All right. I’m still overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed enough then I didn’t strike back at Smug Git or whatever it was Terrael called him. Sai Aleynten. He walked away without another word, and Terrael helped me stand, babbling something about how I shouldn’t attack people and Smug Git could have done far worse because he’s some word I didn’t understand. Whatever Terrael’s cap did to me, there are apparently words it can’t translate, or didn’t bother translating, and there’s probably some logic to it, but I can’t see it at the moment. He brought me back to my room, and now I’m hurrying to write this before the lights go out.
There’s too much. Here’s what I know.
1. That cap did something to me that lets me speak their language.
2. These people have magic. Powerful magic, if Smug Git is representative.
3. They don’t work magic the way I do.
4. They want to learn something from me, hence the promised interrogation.
I ought to escape. I have no reason to believe that just because I haven’t been hurt before, their interrogation won’t involve…maybe not torture, but physical duress at least. But—this is the first place I’ve ever been where magic not only isn’t feared, but is openly practiced. Even if the way they use pouvrin is not at all like mine. I can’t leave until I’ve at least learned why that is. And I’m increasingly curious about why I’m here at all. I think Smug Git’s interrogation may give me more information than I give him. At least, that’s my plan.
Chapter Three
18 Senessay
Things I learned during my interrogation of Sai Aleynten, better known as Smug Git:
1. They have never seen magic like mine before.
2. This place is a sort of cross between a school and a co-operative of magic.
3. That cap, as I’d suspected, could have killed me.
4. My coming here was, as I guessed, a complete accident.
Obviously the thing I’m most concerned about right now is number 3, though number 4 runs a close second. How dare Terrael risk my life like that? Yes, I’m glad I can understand these people now, and no, there’s no way he could have explained the situation to me and gotten my consent, but I’m still angry. Fortunately for Terrael, I haven’t seen him since last night, when he escorted me (in silence) back to my room.
In the morning, a gray-robe brought me breakfast (gruel studded with raisins and sprinkled with sugar, better-tasting than it sounds) and waited for me to finish (it’s hard to eat when someone’s staring at you, did you know?) then escorted me down the hall to a chamber near the mouth of the corridor. It was a much bigger room than the “sitting rooms” I’d seen before, maybe thirty feet in both directions. There was a table made of some wood so dark it was nearly black, a long, plain thing like a stone slab, and two chairs facing each other across it, but near one end, so we weren’t fifteen feet away from each other.
Sai Aleynten stood next to one of the chairs, hands clasped behind his back, smug gitty look on his face as usual. “Sit down,” he said, pointing at the other chair. I tried to think of something rude to say to that, but in the end I just sat. So did he.
For a minute or so, we stared at each other. His face was completely expressionless. I don’t know what I looked like; belligerent, probably. I’ve never been in a position to spend a lot of time looking at my own face, but I’ve been told I sometimes look as if I’m about to start a fight, which is never true. Starting fights only gets you noticed, and getting noticed only gets you a cell. In this case, I wasn’t going to be the first one to speak. This interrogation was Sai Aleynten’s idea; let him start the “conversation.”
And speaking of conversations, how I wish I had the kind of memory that would let me remember everything word for word! My memory’s good, what with all the memorizing I’ve had to do since the magic woke up in me, but it’s not that good. So I’m going to write as much as I can remember, and I’m going to guess at the rest, and maybe that means it’s not a totally accurate history, but I’ll be as honest as I can, and this should make it more readable for whoever it is reads it in the future. Which, again, might only be me, but I don’t see why my personal record shouldn’t be entertaining.
Finally, Sai Aleynten said, “You’re very lucky. That aeden Master Peressten used on you might have killed you.” (I guess this means number 3 is actually number 1. Oops.)
That made me feel faint, but I said, “That would have solved your problem, wouldn’t it?”
He didn’t flinch. “I have no desire to see you dead,” he said. “You are a curiosity.”
“And one who keeps trying to escape,” I said.
“We are keeping you here for your protection,” he said. “Far worse things might happen to you outside the Darssan.”
“I only have your word for that,” I said.
He raised his eyebrow, which made me itch to slap him. “Why did you interfere with our kathana?” he said. (Number 4, which is really number 2. I
should have thought more clearly before I made that list.)
“I didn’t interfere with anything,” I said. “You brought me here.”
“Provably untrue,” he said. “That kathana could not have summoned or created anything living. I repeat, why did you interfere with our kathana?”
“And I repeat, I didn’t do anything. I was asleep when you and your kathana, whatever that means, dragged me to wherever this place is. I…had nothing to do with it.” I was about to say “I don’t even know how to do that kind of magic” when I realized I shouldn’t tell him any more than I had to about my abilities. Better to keep him guessing.
Sai Aleynten frowned. It was the first genuinely human expression I’d ever seen him use. “I think you are lying,” he said.
“And I think you’re a smug git who wasn’t spanked enough as a baby,” I said. (This is untrue. I actually said something like “Am not!” but I came up with this when it was too late to say it, so I put it in here, but now I feel guilty about being deceptive, even if the only person I’m deceiving is myself. So this is me telling the truth.)
“Your magic is unlike ours. You might be capable of anything,” he said. (New number 3.)
“I could,” I said, “and so could you. But I didn’t. So if you didn’t bring me here, and I didn’t interfere with your kathana, maybe you should look for a third option instead of accusing me of lying.”
He raised his eyebrow again. “I can think of any number of reasons why someone might want to insert herself into the Darssan,” he said. “You might be a spy. You might be a saboteur.”
I started to get angry, but he shushed me before I could do more than begin to shout. I’m embarrassed to write that I backed down immediately. Smug git or no, he has a powerful presence, and I can see why everyone around here defers to him. It’s infuriating.
“But I am inclined to believe you, because it is true I have never seen magic like yours before, and you could not have pretended to be affected by the aeden, which tells me you genuinely did not speak our language. And Master Peressten informs me you spoke none of the many languages in which he is fluent, which tells me further that wherever you have come from, it is very far away. So if you are not spy, nor saboteur, and you did not choose to come here…”
The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1) Page 3