The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  I’m embarrassed I wrote that. So what if I feel awkward? For all I know, this is the information that gives us a clue about how my magic relates to Cederic’s. I’ll tell him about it tomorrow, awkward feelings be damned.

  The rest of the day was uneventful

  Hah. I should never tempt fate by writing things like that. I just received a note summoning me to attend on the God-Empress tomorrow after breakfast, which means seven o’clock, far too early for a meeting with a divine avatar. No details, nothing saying she was going to have me beheaded and disemboweled for discovering her war wagons, just a polite little note stamped with her personal sigil, a falcon with some angular characters below its beak.

  I suppose this excuses me from th’an practice, which is actually a disappointment—I did my twelfth successful shriveling of glass, and tomorrow I was to have begun practicing with fire. Terrael will just have to contain his eagerness. I hope they send the wardrobe servants again—the last time, I wore my own clothes, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to wear for this private meeting with a mad God-Empress. I hate

  Cederic just came to my door to say goodnight. He also handed me a small book and said, “I thought you might need this soon. It is of course not the same as making it yourself, but I hope it will do,” and was gone before I could say anything. It’s a blank book, machine-made but with a beautiful leather cover impressed with stylized leaves, dyed dark blue. I don’t know how he knew I needed one, but it’s such a lovely gift I don’t care. I can’t believe I ever hated him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  BOOK SEVEN

  14 Lennitay

  My first entry in my beautiful new book, and I feel like I’m defiling it from what I have to write. I’m tired, but not from physical exertion, and I wish I were back in the Darssan, where I could sink into a hot pool and let the water soak away the tension that’s making my back and neck hurt.

  Of course, if I were back in the Darssan I wouldn’t have spent the day with the God-Empress, which is the reason for the tension. Having to constantly monitor my words and actions put me on edge, especially since for the first part of the day it didn’t seem I needed to. It wasn’t until later that I was reminded of the kind of person she is.

  One of the wardrobe servants came for me in the dining hall, before I was half finished with my breakfast. He used a lot of polite words, but the gist of it was it was going to take some time to attire me properly, and if I was late, he and his fellows would be punished.

  The God-Empress definitely enjoys manipulating people by threatening others. I think it gives her pleasure to know that it’s a form of persuasion that would never work on her, because she doesn’t give a damn what happens to other people. It works all too well on me, and I abandoned my half-eaten meal, exchanged despairing glances with Sovrin, and went back to my room.

  They didn’t strip me this time, but allowed me to take off my own clothes down to my undergarments (still wearing the breast band; I’ve become accustomed to it, and thank the true God for that) before presenting me with an actual choice between two dresses, one full-skirted with short sleeves and a fitted waist, the other tight through the hips and knees but flaring out below that, so my stride would be seriously constrained. Neither of them would be good for running in, and I had to leave both books behind, hidden more or less in plain sight (wrapped loosely in my discarded clothes), but I noted the loose seams of the second dress and decided I could tear them open if running did become necessary. Paranoid, remember?

  The servants seemed pleased by my choice, which in addition to being impractical was a shade of brown that wasn’t particularly flattering to me, and I remembered how the God-Empress didn’t like being outshined by anyone. And I certainly wouldn’t be doing any shining in that thing.

  They piled my hair on my head and secured it with far too many pins, which is to say that it’s heavy enough it needed almost all the hairpins I’d been given to keep it up, and even then if I did end up running, it would probably fall down anyway. Then I was allowed to wear some of my new jewelry, so I chose a very nice necklace of gold filigree with dark red rubies and had to struggle not to laugh at the servants’ consternation at discovering my ears aren’t pierced. No need, when I would never wear earrings that might catch the light at the wrong time, but they were so upset I think if we hadn’t been pressed for time they’d have pierced my ears right then. They settled for bracelets of amber and gold I could quickly shed and shoes that pinched my toes but would come off as easily.

  As I read over this, I realize I sound paranoid, but given my experiences today, I think everything I did and planned for was reasonable. If anything, I might have underestimated the correct level of paranoia. But everything in its time, and at this time in my account I was dressed properly and ready to be escorted to the God-Empress’s chambers.

  The last time, I was taken through the palace by the woman who’d met us when we first arrived, and handed off to a steward or something when we reached the public wing of the palace. This time, four soldiers dressed in the uniform I’d seen beneath the tower, complete with chicken falcon helmets, were standing outside my door when I left my room. Their appearance was so unexpected I nearly shut the door in their faces, which were as impassive as Cederic’s ever is, but I recovered in time and waited for them to indicate what I should do.

  They turned to face the stairwell, spreading out some, and I realized they wanted me to stand in their center, so I did. Then I had to hobble rapidly to keep up with their longer, unconstrained strides as they marched away. It felt exactly as if I were being marched to the gallows, assuming they have those in Castavir, and that was when I first began feeling tense.

  The shoes became uncomfortable after only a few flights of stairs, the dress made me feel as if I were going to trip and fall and tumble to the bottom, hopefully carrying some of those soldiers with me, and my mind insisted on coming up with scenarios in which this was a death march and I was cooperating far too readily. The soldiers didn’t speak, and I didn’t have anything to say, and we saw no one at any of the landings and halls we passed. I think now maybe they’d cleared the halls so no one could see us.

  I’m glad I didn’t think of that at the time, because that would have bolstered my death march theory, and while I like to think I’m disciplined enough not to panic in stressful situations, I can’t say I might not have made excuses and tried to run. Which would likely have been fatal.

  The route they took me by was different from the first; it went through the mosaic chamber, which was every bit as impressive now as it was when we first arrived, and that reminds me I still haven’t gone to look at the floor in daylight. We went through one of the archways I’d never been able to explore, the one between the God-Empress subduing a dragon and the God-Empress laying the foundations for a vast city—funny, she’s giant-sized in that one, maybe my fantasy about Colosse being built by a giant wasn’t so absurd—and into a very different part of the palace.

  The mages’ wing is all narrow passages with low ceilings more suited to catacombs than a palace (everywhere except the hall in the Sais’ wing) and old, pitted stone. This place had wide halls with arched ceilings painted blue and walls plastered with abstract frescos in cool colors, and arched doorways instead of doors. The hall we entered by terminated in a courtyard with a glass roof high above, revealing a circle of cool blue sky that looked as if it hung above some temperate landscape not blasted by the heat of the sun, which heat I could feel coming off the breeze that swept through the courtyard from both sides.

  A fountain fifteen feet tall at the center of the courtyard kept it from being too hot, and the breeze carried a faint mist toward me that was beautifully cooling. My awkward dress was surprisingly comfortable; court brocades would have been awful in this heat.

  My honor guard, or whatever they were, separated and went to stand at the four corners of the courtyard, still silent and impassive, leaving me clueless as to what to do next. So I walked forward to the
fountain and inhaled the cool, damp air coming off it. I thought about taking a drink, but decided it might be taboo, or poisoned, or something. Of course that only made me thirsty, but I clasped my hands together in front of me to keep them from being stupid and waited.

  And waited.

  I walked around after a bit, admiring the courtyard. It was open to the outside on two sides, and the sunlight even at seven o’clock in the morning was blinding thanks to the white stone paving the paths that led away from the courtyard to some other part of the palace. Ahead of me, with respect to where I’d entered, was another archway that led to a short hallway identical to the one we’d come in by, but I couldn’t see far thanks to the sunlight.

  I went to stand at its entrance, glancing at the guards for some hint, but they ignored me. That was when I became angry. I was so afraid of what the God-Empress might do that I’d forgotten how far I’ve come, how many dangers I’ve faced, and I was ashamed of my cowardice. The God-Empress might decide to have me killed no matter what I did, so I decided to hell with her, and set off down the hallway. When I think back on how defiant I was, it makes me feel sick.

  This area, too, was completely empty of people. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought the palace was abandoned, and I wondered how its population could disappear so thoroughly. I suppose the servants, not being otherworlder women with strange powers that fascinated the God-Empress, would take every opportunity to stay out of their mistress’s sight.

  I wandered the broad, frescoed halls, mentally keeping track of my route, until I reached an actual door. It was unlocked, so I pushed it open and found what I can only call a boudoir. The walls were invisible thanks to all the filmy draperies that shrouded the room, most of them moving lightly in an intangible breeze. The floor was so soft it was like walking on a pillow, every step throwing me off balance.

  Cushioned, backless chairs stood at random throughout the room, some of them canted due to the pillowy nature of the floor. Everything was in shades of red, from deepest maroon to lightest pink. The God-Empress, who was reclining on a divan at the center of the room, was dressed in a thin shift of pale red—not pink, but pale red, there’s a difference—so sheer I could see her nipples. Not that I was looking. They were impossible to miss.

  “You are late,” the God-Empress said, and here I should probably admit I’m making up almost everything I write her saying in this conversation. Not the intent or meaning, and I’m not doing it to make myself sound impressive and clever. When we were in her pavilion, she spoke in straightforward language, but every time I’ve met her privately, she’s used what sounds to me like formal or archaic words.

  Understanding her put a strain on my aeden-acquired language skills, and I found I couldn’t remember her exact words most of the time. So this conversation is more extrapolated even than most of what I write. I really do think there’s a pouvra for memory. If I ever have time, maybe that’s the one I’ll try to invent.

  Anyway, she said, “You are late,” but she didn’t sound angry.

  I said, “I apologize, but your palace is too beautiful for me to rush through it. And I didn’t realize how constraining this dress would be.”

  “You dislike my gift,” the God-Empress said.

  “It’s beautiful. I meant only to indicate my ignorance of Castaviran clothing,” I said, trying not to panic. Insulting her before half a minute had passed was not a good beginning to this day.

  “You chose well. It is an old-fashioned cut that shows you appreciate tradition,” she said. “I would have been displeased if you had appeared in the other.”

  Already I was navigating the twisty maze that was her mind. Even my wardrobe was a test. “Thank you for the honor of the gift, which I do not deserve,” I said.

  “Sit,” the God-Empress said, and I found a slightly canted chair and settled into it. “Drink,” she said, and a servant emerged from a door hidden by the draperies and handed me a squat golden cup with two handles; I drank, and discovered it was lukewarm water, tasting slightly of minerals but welcome after the rapid walk I’d had.

  The room was comfortably cool, and I think I’ve mentioned the palace has some kind of cooling kathana that I’ve been grateful for. Balaen is quite a bit more temperate than Castavir despite occupying much of the same territory. I wonder if Cederic knows why the same places in each world can have vastly different climates.

  And yes, it did occur to me the water might be poisoned, but there was nothing I could do about that. There’s only so much I can protect myself from, and refusing to drink on the slight chance the water might kill me would only be trading the possibility of danger for the near-certainty that the God-Empress would have me executed for insulting her.

  We sat and drank in silence, me mindful of the instruction not to speak unless spoken to. The God-Empress had a cup matching mine and drank with both hands on the handles, which gesture I mimicked. Eventually she set the cup down and said, “I will show you my city. You should know what it is you are going to defend.”

  “Thank you, Renatha,” I said, only barely remembering to use her name, and she stood up, which was a sign for servants to come rushing out of hidden doorways to dress her in tunic and robe and another tunic and a sash that went around her waist three times, all of it in shades of red and decorated with rubies, and a matching ruby-studded silver choker. The God-Empress is unusual in preferring faceted stones to cabochons, which is probably the only thing we have in common. That and being female. She was gloriously beautiful, and I felt dowdy next to her, which was probably the idea.

  Once she was dressed, and her golden hair (which was freshly dyed) was piled on her head with ruby-studded hair clips, we left the room and went by a completely different route back to the courtyard, where the God-Empress went down one of the brightly-paved paths to where a strange-looking collenna waited, its thumping higher and more rapid than that of the loenerel.

  It was…I can’t even think of anything to compare it to. It reminded me a little of a tortoise’s shell, if tortoises were dusky rose; its base was circular, and two seats surrounded by a silver rail were perched in a depression on its back, which was about five feet high. The seats were shaded by a canopy of rose velvet fringed with silver, and the seats themselves were upholstered in the same colors.

  At the front (what I guessed was the front, which guess was later proven correct) was another seat, this one black lacquered wood, with a smallish bucket to the right of where the master would sit and a tray of brushes above it. The plate containing the th’an engraving was silver rather than brass, or it might have been steel, and I couldn’t see the th’an because a woman dressed in a master’s uniform, but in rose pink, was standing at attention near the collenna, blocking my view.

  “Lift me,” the God-Empress said, and a pair of tall and muscular men actually put their hands on her and raised her to where she could step into the collenna. I was watching her settle herself when I felt those hands on me, and I squeaked, but managed not to fight them.

  My ascent was considerably less graceful than hers, but I eventually got my dress arranged around me and gripped the rail of the seat as the collenna lurched forward. I’m not afraid of heights, but there was something about the movement of the collenna, and being just far enough off the ground that falling would hurt, that made me nervous. Then again, it might have been the company.

  Surrounded by a detachment of ten armored and helmeted guards, we left the palace grounds through an unattended stone arch. It was tall enough that we passed through with a good five feet of headroom to spare. I immediately began to sweat. I don’t know if I stayed comfortable until that point because the cooling kathana extends to the palace grounds, or if it was all in my head, but Colosse was hot and the dress I was wearing, while comfortable enough, was still too heavy to be the right kind of clothing for this climate. I’m sure it was just me and my acclimation to a much more temperate climate, because it was still morning and could not possibly be as hot as I
remember, and if I think about it, that was true.

  Once we were some distance from the palace, where there were people filling the streets, I could see everyone else dressed sensibly in short trousers and sleeveless tunics, or loose-fitting dresses, and wore the same kind of sandals everyone wore at the Darssan. Of course, looking at how comfortable they all seemed made me sweat more. I discovered when I returned to my room, much later, that my nose was sunburned, which makes me look ridiculous. The God-Empress looked as if she were still in her cool, breezy chambers, despite her wearing many more layers than I was. All right, now I’m a little jealous of her. Just a little.

  Our collenna took up most of the street, but no one paid any attention to us. Everyone from pedestrians to those people pulling the wheeled carts simply stepped out of our way, as if the collenna was shrouded in a concealment pouvra. The God-Empress stared straight ahead, her hand raised and moving in a strange, complicated wave at the unseeing passersby, thinking who knows what. It seemed so out of character that I finally said, “Do they always ignore you like this?” and then cursed myself for using the word “ignore,” which made them sound disrespectful. Then I cursed myself for not remembering not to speak unless I was spoken to.

  But the God-Empress didn’t take issue with either of my mistakes. She said, “It is a rose day. I am invisible. It would be disrespectful if they acknowledged me when I don’t choose them to.”

  Rose day. Rose-colored collenna. “May I ask what other kinds of days there are?” I said.

  The God-Empress never once turned her head to look at me during this conversation. When she spoke, her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away. “Honey days, when I am accompanied by the mages and all must bow before God’s presence and that of her priests.” (Mages as priests. I keep having more questions for Cederic.) “Moss days, in which all must present God with tokens of faith. Sky days, in which the streets are cleared entirely and those found outside are punished.”