I wanted to know what the God-Empress called her own so I wouldn’t trespass accidentally. I knew some places where her territory wasn’t—the rooms where the Darssan mages were housed, and the Sais’ wing, and our dining hall and the two common areas we gathered in after dinner. Places like the mosaic chamber were probably outside that territory, since too many people use them—I could hear lots of foot traffic coming from that chamber when we passed it on the way to the audience with the God-Empress. I think it’s likely that when we arrived, it was cleared specifically so the Kilios didn’t have to encounter any of the unwashed masses.
So I was imagining a map of the palace as I sneaked down to the ground floor. I may not have the most perfect memory for conversation, but I wouldn’t be much of a thief if I couldn’t keep the map of a building I’m infiltrating in my head. There were far too many blank spots, because the palace is huge, and having entered the way we did, I don’t have as good a sense of its footprint, but the whole point of exploring is to learn new things, isn’t it?
My first step was to learn where all the alcoves off the mosaic chamber led. I didn’t get very far last night/this morning because, as I said, the palace is huge, but what I discovered was still a lot. I already knew one alcove leads to the loenerel’s stopping place, and one leads to all the mages’ living and working quarters and, less directly, to the God-Empress’s cloud-kissing pavilion.
The one directly to the right of the loenerel alcove goes to the public areas of the palace, waiting rooms and audience chambers and finally to the God-Empress’s real throne room. The actual, official throne is strangely plain, unadorned except for elaborate carvings, and it’s built to a scale that would accommodate someone fifteen feet tall. The God-Empress probably looks like a child sitting in it, kicking her feet because they wouldn’t reach the ground.
The throne room makes up for the throne’s plainness by being lined with mirrors, all of them three feet wide (I used my arm span to measure) and as tall as that imaginary giant, framed in what was probably gilded wood (you can’t see colors with the see-in-dark pouvra) decorated with scallops at top and bottom. The floor is marble tiles in contrasting colors, dark and light, and I had to be especially careful not to make any sound walking on them.
I wandered around in these rooms for a bit, admiring their scale and the beauty of the furnishings, which is more refined than my world goes in for. I was going to write that they were more sophisticated, which is true but gives the wrong impression; my world lacks things this world has, mainly with regard to what magic can do, but its cultural development doesn’t lag that far behind Castavir’s. So in my world, the wealthy go in for big, sturdy, unadorned furniture and architecture, which compared to Castavir’s looks rough, but closer examination just shows that it’s different. I don’t think I’m trying to make excuses for my world, either. But I suppose this is another thing that’s irrelevant.
The alcove to the right of that one, the alcove between it and the mages’ alcove, leads to a warren of more personal sleeping and living quarters, and a big dining room and a kitchen. And it was completely empty. All those bedrooms, unoccupied. The kitchen hadn’t been used in months, at least. I couldn’t tell if this was meant as guest quarters, or as living space for the royal family, but either way it was eerie.
Now I’ve had time to think about it, my instinct is it’s guest quarters. The royal family has to be protected, and it’s easier to have them all in one place rather than splitting the guards’ efforts—and this definitely didn’t belong to the God-Empress. I don’t know why the palace would have an entire wing for guests and then not have any, but it likely has something to do with the God-Empress’s insanity. I can’t imagine anyone staying here unless she was a hostage. That thought makes me queasy, because every one of the mages is a hostage if the God-Empress decides it’s so.
By this time, it was getting very late, and I was tired, so I decided to leave exploring the rest of the alcoves until another time. I have a much better idea of what the palace looks like, even if I didn’t find anything interesting. I don’t know whether to hope the God-Empress’s quarters are beyond one of the two remaining alcoves or not. Easier if it is, but if not, what a challenge to try to sneak into it!
So I went back to my room, but when I reached the hallway, I decided to take one last look at the…I’m still not sure what it is. An observatory? It’s certainly high enough, though I wonder what anyone could see through that smoked glass. In any case, I figured Vorantor wouldn’t still be there, and I really wanted to see the view for myself.
I was still cautious, approaching it—an overconfident thief is a dead thief, another one of my mottoes—even though I heard nothing, not even snoring from the adjoining chambers. Now that those holes are closed up, my room seems completely soundproof, and these stone walls are thick enough to keep most noises contained. I’m not going to experiment by standing in my room and screaming, certainly.
I was almost to the entry when I heard voices—not even voices, just a low cadenced hum I’ve learned to recognize as what voices sound like at the edge of hearing. I took a look into the observatory and saw Vorantor was still standing there, at the other side of the room, only this time he wasn’t alone.
With my eyes more perfectly adjusted to the dark, I could see immediately that the second person was male, shorter than Vorantor, light-haired, and dressed in clothing that looked drab next to Vorantor’s rich robes. Everything about him screamed “thief.” I didn’t even have to think about it; I did the concealment pouvra and started to sidle along the circumference of the room, trying to get close enough to make out their words.
Years ago, when I first learned the basics of the see-in-dark pouvra, I tried adapting it to enhance my hearing, but I was never successful. I can’t believe there isn’t a pouvra for that, so I haven’t given up on finding it, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted it more than I did just then. The trouble with sneaking up on a thief is that she’s, well, a thief—and if she’s any good, she’ll be constantly on the lookout for people doing to her what she’d do to them.
The closer I got, the less convinced I was that the stranger was a thief, simply because he lacked the alertness I’d have in his position. But…well, whatever he is, stealth and cunning are definitely some of his tools of the trade, even if he’s never hung by his fingertips off a third-story window ledge while his bare toes grope for purchase on the irregular bricks of a castle wall.
I went as close as I dared and was frustrated to discover the conversation was nearly over. I suppose it would have been too much for me to coincidentally enter just as they started talking about a key piece of information that only mattered to me. As it was, it left me with more questions instead. The stranger said, “An upset for you, I think.”
Vorantor said, “Cederic pledged his honor, so I’m not worried about him. And he’s never been interested in glory. Everything will go on as it has.”
The stranger said, “No matter what you have to do to ensure that.”
“Exactly,” Vorantor said. “Something I believe you understand.”
The stranger nodded, then to my surprise walked past Vorantor to the edge of the observatory, where a low wall kept people from simply stepping off and falling, I assumed, to their deaths, slung his leg over the wall and dropped. Vorantor didn’t react, and I heard neither scream nor fatal thud, so I concluded that he was the kind of thief I’d originally thought, and I confirmed this later—well, I don’t want to put this out of order when I’m almost done.
A minute after the stranger made his dramatic exit, Vorantor turned and left the observatory, passing close to me without noticing anything amiss. This is why I don’t wear scent. People forget there are all sorts of ways to notice a hidden someone that have nothing to do with eyes. I could smell Vorantor just fine; he uses a nice-smelling woody cologne, which is probably the only nice thing about him. I gave him plenty of time to reach his room, then tiptoed forward, still concealed, and lean
ed way out over the wall to see where the stranger had gone.
The observatory is at the top of a fat tower about fifty feet tall, with narrow windows marking out the layout of the interior. Based on the way the windows are arranged, the tower has three stories, and its base is set in one corner of what I’ve come to think of as the “main” palace, which is itself another four stories from the ground. So the observatory is fairly high up, based on those stairs about half a story above the Sais’ wing, though not as high as the God-Empress’s pavilion.
From my angle, dangling over the wall, it was immediately obvious someone had built a staircase from the base of the observatory to the nearest window, which was about ten feet down and three feet to the right of where I was. I say “staircase,” but it was more a series of jutting blocks that offered hand- and footholds so you could reach the window without much—all right, not much effort for someone like me, and a crippling fear of heights would make it almost impossible, and the window wouldn’t admit anyone much larger than the stranger, who wasn’t much taller and broader than I am.
But it would be a good way for someone to meet someone else in the observatory without walking past a lot of Sais, who might want to know what that someone was doing there. None of my exploration had led to that tower, which made it even more interesting; it was something somebody wanted kept secret.
I pulled myself back up and returned to my room, not even pausing at Cederic’s door. I know he knows th’an he’s never showed me, and that there are all sorts of them that have offensive capabilities, and I’m certain he’d try to take the head off anyone who entered his room at night. And now I’ve written everything down, and I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to make a list of what I need to do in the morning:
1. Tell Cederic about Vorantor’s well-after-midnight conversation.
2. Ask him about Kilios. And the eye color thing. And what happened between him and Vorantor in the God-Empress’s pavilion.
3. Figure out what’s directly below us in this tower. Yes, I could take the staircase to the window, but allowing myself to be outlined against the sky for a possible enemy to take a swipe at seems like a bad idea. Besides, I don’t want to give away the fact that I know about the staircase if I can help it. It could turn out to be an escape route.
4. Begin work on the kathana to summon the Codex Tiurindi. As much as I dislike Vorantor, and find working for him distasteful, I’m excited to finally witness a kathana I’m not the focus of.
Sleep, finally.
Chapter Thirteen
6 Lennitay
I’m every bit as tired tonight as I was last night, though this time it’s because I spent half my day being ordered around by Vorantor, who’s not very good at not sounding like he’s ordering you around, and I resent him because I don’t like him, so I feel like I’m being bossed. The other half I spent performing like a trained seal for the God-Empress, who remains endlessly fascinated by my pouvrin and has no concept of how wearying they can become over time.
This happened in the official throne room, which was even gaudier and more ornate than I’d imagined snooping around it last night. The hanging lamps are made of crystals that send sparkling light over everything, and she has mages to refresh them constantly because the th’an that power them run out quickly.
She showed no sign of insanity and was pleasant and friendly, even informal, as if I were her younger cousin (I think I am younger; closer observation puts her age nearer forty than thirty, and let me just say I hope I age that well, though if I have to become mad to get that wish, never mind) visiting from a strange land. Some of my tiredness is probably due to how tense I was the whole time, worried I’d say something wrong or respond too slowly to a demand, but this time, at least, my manners were acceptable.
This was also the first time I’d seen mages other than Vorantor’s and the Darssan mages. It hadn’t occurred to me there would be others, or that they would use magic for practical things. But I suppose the th’an on the collennas have to come from somewhere, and someone has to teach the masters how to draw them. And the God-Empress has to have an army to keep her empire intact, and since I know there are offensive and defensive kathanas, there must be mages attached to the army as well.
I wonder how many mages there are in the Castaviran Empire. I wonder what the countries outside the empire are like. There are so many things I want to know, and no time to learn them all.
Speaking of wanting to know things, I caught Cederic early this morning (I doubt I’ve had more than three hours of sleep, so no exploring tonight) and told him what I’d heard. He didn’t even look a little surprised, though he did look sad, and he wouldn’t explain what the conversation meant even though he clearly understood it. He did tell me that based on my description, the stranger was probably Perce Aselfos, the God-Empress’s chief spy, and that he wouldn’t want to guess why Vorantor and Aselfos were meeting secretly, but I think he did have a guess he didn’t want to share with me until he was certain.
On my other questions: Kilios is a title (thank you, Cederic, I figured that one out on my own) that identifies a mage who has mastered all known th’an and can perform all of a certain type of kathana without assistance. Cederic is the only living Kilios and has held that title for almost four years. (He sounded embarrassed at telling me this. He’s reluctant to talk about himself if it sounds at all like bragging.) It conveys all sorts of privileges, most of which Cederic doesn’t take advantage of, including one that says he takes precedence over every mage and Sai in Castavir, which is the reason for that odd ceremony I witnessed yesterday.
Despite being “most high priest,” Vorantor has no authority over Cederic, wouldn’t have unless he were still Wrelan of the Darssan, but as the one with the most experience at preparing the kathana we’re here to do, he has to be in command. Ugh. So Cederic had to cede part of his rights, and Vorantor had to swear not to usurp any more of those rights than Cederic had given up.
This all explains why Cederic was allowed to stay at the Darssan when the God-Empress put her support behind Vorantor’s theory; even the God-Empress can’t force the Kilios in matters magical, at least if she’s sane. I’m guessing Cederic has been using the distance between Colosse and the Darssan to keep well out of the God-Empress’s notice, because (as we learned) she only abides by this rule when she feels like it.
To my surprise, Cederic was telling the truth about the eye color thing. It doesn’t mean you can instantly master any form of magic, or that you’re guaranteed to be better at magic than people who don’t have green-gray eyes (case in point: Terrael’s eyes are blue), but it means you’re drawn to magic, that you have a desire to learn it. In Cederic’s case, he began practicing th’an when he was old enough to mimic other mages’ script, and in my case, once the magic woke up in me I couldn’t leave it alone.
But Cederic’s being Kilios is due entirely to a lot of hard work, though I’m sure his being intelligent helped. I have no idea how I compare to the other mages of my world, assuming there are any—no, I have to believe I’m not the only one, if only because the alternative makes me feel ill. I almost hope the others are better than I am, because the idea of learning pouvrin directly from someone else…suppose it’s easier that way? Faster? It’s not going to matter unless we can keep the worlds from coming back together, and then we have to find a way to send me home.
If I still want to return.
This is already far more of a home than I’ve ever had before, even in the years before Dad died and Mam became a drunk and Roda left and Bridie
It’s more a home than I’ve had in a long while. I have friends. I have value, even if only as a novelty. But if I stay here, the likelihood of me continuing my study as a mage is virtually nonexistent. Finding the concealment pouvra was sheer accident, and the madman who created it did so also by accident. I might be able to create my own, but that’s also a slim possibility I wouldn’t want to count on. And the idea of giving all that
up makes me feel even more ill than the idea that I’m the only one of my kind in my own world the way I am here.
I’m not going to worry about that now. Retrieving the Codex Tiurindi is the most important thing, as Cederic said, and even if my role in the kathana hasn’t been determined yet—that was most of why Vorantor was ordering me around this morning—I can already tell it will be important.
And Vorantor’s mages have been tracking the process of the worlds coming together, and the news is not good. Cederic had predicted months; the mages are saying it might be more like eight weeks. So we all feel a sense of urgency that has everyone on edge. I think Vorantor doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is to have Cederic there. Cederic keeps people calm just by being who he is, though he’s always perfectly deferential to Vorantor (ugh again) and redirects most requests to him.
Later
I just had a wonderful chat with Sovrin and Audryn, who came to my room to see if I was all right. I developed a bit of a headache during my session with the God-Empress, which is unusual since normally pouvrin don’t cause me physical pain, except for when I maintain the see-in-dark pouvra for too long. It was gone by dinnertime, but I think Sovrin and Audryn wanted an excuse for some girl time, and we ended up talking and giggling until I was so tired I couldn’t stop yawning.
But I saw my first kathana! Even if it was only a little summoning Sovrin and Audryn did on my floor to snatch some hand-sized fruit pies out of one of the palace kitchens for us to snack on. They pushed aside the red bearskin rug and chalked a circle on the floor—they are both really good at drawing nearly perfect circles—with single th’an at the four cardinal points and the four ordinal points.
The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1) Page 16