The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  “Then I suggest we retire to one of the sitting rooms, if this will be an extended discussion, and I think it will,” Cederic said. She can’t know how much I want to be alone with her. This is a logical proposal.

  They talked all afternoon, Sesskia explaining how she learned pouvrin, Cederic asking questions that led her to further explanations. Evening came, and Cederic called for dinner to be brought to them, and they ate and talked some more until both of them were yawning again. He was conscious of feeling buoyed up by the fierce pleasure of his knowledge expanding and the excitement of being with someone he was attracted to. When she finally said, “I think it’s time for me to sleep, if I don’t want a repeat of today’s debacle,” he felt disappointed at more than just the end of their discussion.

  “Very wise,” he said, and they both rose and left the room. “Thank you, Sesskia,” Cederic said, “for your patience. I’m afraid I still don’t fully understand how your magic works, but I am beginning to grasp it.”

  “I was actually thinking you must be brilliant to have understood it so quickly,” Sesskia said. “It took me so long to work out how to make a pouvra work—I think it was nearly three years before I gained a second one.”

  “Then I thank you for the compliment,” he said, and they parted ways. Cederic went to his room and again sat on his bed. He ought to be grateful she didn’t hate him for his spiteful words, but all he could think was how much he wanted to kiss her. He flopped gracelessly back onto his bed and sighed. Two years of celibacy, that’s what this is, and she’s the first woman you’ve seen in all that time who isn’t your subordinate.

  He smiled to think of Sesskia as anyone’s subordinate. No, this wasn’t just enforced abstinence. He was falling in love with this woman. Even now, after spending the entire afternoon and evening with her, all he could think about was seeing her again. He began to imagine what it would be like if she were here with him in his bed, and thoroughly quashed that indulgence. He wasn’t going to use her as an outlet for his sexual frustration.

  He undressed for bed, then pulled the blankets up around his neck and stretched, feeling himself become sleepy almost immediately. Might she someday return his affection? If he pursued her openly, how would she respond? You don’t need this now, it will just be a distraction, he reminded himself. But there would be a time not too far distant in which the convergence was a memory. Someday, he would be able to tell her of his feelings for her, and see how she responded. There was no reason to think she might not eventually feel the same. He carried those happy thoughts into his dream.

  (31 Senessay)

  “My instructions are to take your research back to Colosse,” Denril said. He was smiling as if pleasantness could temper the blow he’d just dealt Cederic. “We will make better use of it than you can. You know that.”

  It took every ounce of willpower Cederic had gained in the last fifteen years not to attack his old friend with magic and with his hands. This was not Denril’s idea. It was the mad bitch who sat on the throne at Colosse and manipulated the lives of others who had decreed it. But it was Denril’s hand that was going to carry it out. “You cannot take the knowledge in our heads. We will still be able to summon the Codex Tiurindi,” he said, and was satisfied at how calm he sounded.

  “Possibly,” Denril said. “With the help of the woman. I thought her name was Thalessi.”

  “Sesskia is not a name she shares with casual acquaintances,” Cederic said, “and her magic is key to that kathana, yes.”

  “Unfortunate that the God-Empress has instructed me to bring her with me, then,” Denril said, with a smug smile that said I have beaten you, and you can’t fight this.

  That was a blow he could not withstand so easily as the first. “She is not a thing you can simply carry away,” he said, barely containing his fury.

  “No, but she will not refuse the God-Empress’s command, I think.”

  “I would not count on it. She has no more loyalty to this world than you have to hers.”

  “I have brought thirty-five mages, thirteen of them Sais, to ensure her compliance.”

  “That might not be enough to contain her.”

  Denril’s smile disappeared. “They aren’t to contain her,” he said. “My orders are to begin killing the mages of the Darssan if she refuses. From what you wrote of her, we know she’s developed an attachment to them. The God-Empress thinks she won’t want to see them die when she can prevent it with a single action.”

  His anger vanished, leaving him cold and stunned. “Denril,” he said, “how can you possibly condone this? Let alone preside over it?”

  “Cederic, I have little choice in the matter.” Denril said.

  “No choice,” Cederic said. “That is never true, and you know it. I warned you about this. I warned you not to throw in your lot with hers. She’s insane, Denril, you know she is. Only a madwoman could order such a vile thing.”

  “Do not make such accusations, even where only I can hear,” Denril said. “She is our ruler, Cederic, and she deserved to know what was coming. We will need her temporal power in the aftermath, however well we are able to contain the destruction. She has amassed an army the likes of which no one has seen since the days of the Conqueror to maintain Castavir’s stability after the coming disaster.

  “But the God-Empress is preparing for war against an enemy she knows she can’t fight, and her paranoia is increasing. She insists that I produce results, regardless of the cost, and you and I agree on one thing: Thalessi, or whatever you call her, as an inhabitant of the shadow world, is crucial to our ability to preserve this one—that’s true no matter which of our theories is correct.

  “And I am sorry, old friend, I am truly sorry, but you must give up this mad, doomed quest. I need your help. Your skills are unparalleled; I can even admit that you’re better than I am. Your continued refusal to join me will mean the deaths of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions. You made a request of me. Let me extend the same to you. Help me. Please.”

  Cederic had to turn away. He couldn’t bear to see how triumphant his old friend looked, so at odds with the false sorrow in his voice. He had come here not to gain understanding, but to compel Cederic to do what he’d refused to do every day for the last two years. He looked at the stones of the wall, and saw something shift, and there was Sesskia, watching them both with a horror that matched what was in Cederic’s heart. That she should have witnessed this—

  He pleaded with her, silently, to understand. I cannot condemn them all to death for the sake of a principle, but it is you who will bear the burden of Denril’s ultimatum, he thought. Forgive me, my love, my secret love, for betraying both of us.

  She nodded once, slowly, as if she’d read his thoughts—though she would not be so calm if she had, he thought. He turned back to look at Denril and said, “I will join you. And Sesskia will come peacefully.”

  “Thank you,” Denril said. “And I truly am sorry for this.”

  “I am sorry, too,” Cederic said, though he didn’t say what he was sorry for.

  Denril stood up from his chair and said, “I will leave you to decide how best to tell the mages. They really should be evacuated from the Darssan.”

  “And I suppose you have a plan for that as well,” Cederic said.

  “I have called for another loenerel to transport them to Trengia,” Denril said. “From there they will be able to return to their homes.”

  “And forbidden the opportunity to save their world,” Cederic said, expressionless again.

  “You know most of them lack the skills to give us any advantage. Choose your best, and thank the others for their assistance to date.”

  “They were your best, once, Denril. Are you so completely lost to human feeling?”

  “This is a hard time, and we must make hard choices,” Denril said angrily. “Past time you learned that.”

  Cederic felt weary. Their conversation had drained him beyond his capacity for politeness. He waved his fingers d
ismissively, and Denril rose and left without another word. He was at least intelligent enough to know when Cederic had reached his limit. “I wish you had not heard that,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t use the pouvrin on anyone. I just….” Sesskia dismissed the concealment pouvra and came to sit in the chair next to him, not the one Denril had just vacated.

  “I am not angry at your eavesdropping, Sesskia, but you do not need to be burdened with the knowledge that we are at the mercy of a mad Empress who is willing to slaughter innocents.”

  “Why not? It was me she wanted to coerce. I’m the one she’s going to try to control. I think I have a right to know in what way I need to defend myself.”

  He shrugged. “You have a point,” he said. “And now I must decide how to tell two hundred mages that our work is not only over, but has been a waste of time. Without implicating Denril.”

  “Why not implicate him? It’s his fault!”

  “He is the Empress’s right hand in this matter. If I give them reason to murmur against him, and that murmuring gets back to her, their lives will be forfeit,” Cederic said. “I will take the blame myself. I will explain that in light of new evidence, I have been convinced that our work needs to take a different direction, and that the Darssan must be closed for everyone’s safety. If I am lucky, they will hate me and not Denril.”

  “That’s not fair,” she said.

  The stubborn tone of her voice nearly broke his heart. She was in danger, she had to be careful not to do anything to make Denril think he needed to kill her friends, and she was worried about him. He wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around her and let her strength bear him up. “This has never been about fairness,” he said. “Was it fair to pull you from your world into this one, make you a pawn in a game you never agreed to play? Denril was right, in part—this is a hard time that requires hard choices. The difference is that he believes he has the right to make those choices for everyone else. I have never agreed with him in that respect.”

  “Do you still believe you’re right?”

  “I do, and I will take with me the mages most capable of proving me correct. We will summon the Codex Tiurindi, and it will prove the truth to Denril. I only hope it will do so before it is too late.”

  “I’ll help you find a solution. I don’t have to be cooperative.” Then her stubbornness faded as she remembered the consequences of her non-cooperation.

  “You see the problem,” Cederic said.

  “Damn him to hell and damn your God-Empress too,” she said, furiously.

  Fear for her once again stabbed at his heart. “Never say that again. Never even think it. She is dangerous in ways you cannot imagine, because she is erratic and paranoid and is capable of destroying things, and people, even when that destruction hurts her cause. Your guess is correct: she wants you in Colosse so she can control you personally, and not because Denril has told her you are necessary to his work. But if she turns on you…God only knows what she might decide to do.”

  “I can defend myself,” she said, “but I can’t defend everyone around me.”

  “Exactly.”

  She sighed, but with resignation rather than despair, and it gave him hope. “How can I help you? Since it’s clear I won’t be able to help myself.”

  Tell me that you love me. Lend me that strength you seem to have in such limitless quantities. Give me a future to look forward to. He made himself smile, just that thin little twist of the lips that seemed all he was capable of these days, and said, “Behave as if you know nothing of this conflict. You don’t have to be cheerful about it, naturally, but a desire to mitigate the coming disaster would be appropriate. Cooperate with Denril when he asks you about pouvrin. I’m glad you understood what I asked you earlier.”

  “Now I’m especially grateful I did,” she said. “Having pouvrin he knows nothing about could save my life.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that. We will not leave until that second loenerel arrives to transport everyone—I won’t let it seem that I’m abandoning anyone. You and I will have to find a way to pursue the correct line of research without me seeming to be insubordinate. It could be dangerous.”

  “Because nothing about the rest of this is dangerous. What’s a loenerel?”

  “It is a device powered by th’an that can transport many people, depending on how many sections are connected to it. It will require a fairly large loenerel to move all the mages of the Darssan—minus the few I am to be allowed as part of my entourage,” he added, unable to keep from sounding bitter. “I cannot believe Denril is so dismissive of their abilities, simply because he took many of our best mages when he left for Colosse two years ago.”

  “Those men and women with him, they used to belong to the Darssan?”

  “Many of them, yes. Some of them were privately employed before Denril coaxed them to work for him. But enough of those mages have friends here….” They both sat silent for a moment, and he wondered if she was thinking, as he was, about what kind of people could agree to kill their friends for any reason. Perhaps the God-Empress’s madness was catching.

  “And there were more Sais here, once,” he went on. “Seventeen of us. They all believe as Denril does.” Seventeen people who had been his friends in a way the Masters could not. In a way that no one had been for years until Sesskia came along.

  “So you were the only one who believed in this possibility,” Sesskia said.

  Cederic nodded. It still felt like betrayal. He was Kilios, he was Sai, he’d spent his entire adult life on this problem, and that mattered nothing to any of them. His weariness redoubled, and he stood, saying, “I hope for all our sakes you are as good a liar as you are a thief.” He regretted it instantly. He’d meant it as a joke, but his withered sense of humor might have distorted his meaning into an insult.

  But she smiled, and said, “I never thought anyone but me might find value in those skills. Are you sure you want to encourage me in my criminal ways?”

  “I did not think you needed encouragement,” he said, raising an eyebrow, and she laughed, a merry, carefree sound that lifted a weight from his heart. He held the door for her, said, “You should gather your things. I do not know when the loenerel will be here,” and went to his room where he could regain his self-control enough to face the mages of the Darssan.

  (3 Lennitay)

  He balanced the tray in one hand and knocked on Sesskia’s door with the other, then waited for her “Come in” to open it and enter. She’d been lying on her bed with her face over the vent, but now she sat up and stretched a little. Her hair was tangled on one side, and he had to stifle an impulse to run his fingers through it to straighten it.

  “You look unwell,” he said, setting the tray on the foot of her bed.

  “I feel better than I did,” she said. “It’s just motion sickness. I think writing is making it worse.”

  “I will not make the obvious suggestion that you should stop, if that is what is making you ill.”

  “I knew you were smart.” She pulled the tray toward herself and began eating. “This tastes terrible.”

  “Loenerels are not known for their cuisine.”

  “Yes, but this tastes even more terrible than it should. Maybe it’s the sickness.” She pushed the tray toward him. “You tell me how it tastes.”

  He took the offered fork and speared a piece of meat, trying not to dwell on the casual intimacy of the offering. “You are correct, this tastes terrible,” he said, handing the fork back. “I am sorry.”

  “Well, you didn’t cook it. I assume.” She ate a few more bites, drank some water, then pushed the tray away. “I can’t bear any more, and my stomach is upset enough that it agrees with me. How much longer until Colosse?”

  “A day at most.” He felt incredibly awkward every time he came to her room; it was small, and there was nowhere to sit except the bed she was occupying, and he never knew what to do with his hands, so he ended up clasping them
behind his back in a way he was certain made him look smug and superior. He’d had a teacher as a boy who always stood that way, a man he’d hated, and the idea of having anything common with him was repulsive. But he couldn’t stay away.

  He told himself he was providing a buffer between her and the others, helping her conceal her book, but the truth was that as they neared Colosse, he needed her strength more every day. At night, he lay in his own narrow bed and fought with himself. Tell her how you feel, ask her if she might not learn to love you in return, he thought, then, You don’t need a distraction, and you don’t need an emotional attachment that the madwoman might use against you, then, Imagine having her with you every day, every night, that strength and that beauty bearing you up. So far his sensible self was winning.

  “I’m a little eager to see the palace. Audryn says there’s nothing like it in the world.”

  “Master Engilles is correct. It is the oldest building in Colosse, at least parts of it are—the God-Emperors were all fond of adding to it.”

  “I’m looking forward to exploring it. What a challenge!”

  There was a familiar note in her voice, the sound that said she had come upon a puzzle she couldn’t wait to unravel, and it prompted Cederic to say, “You should not go wandering through the palace uninvited and unsupervised. The God-Empress has been known to take lethal offense at people abusing her gift of hospitality.”

  “I’m not going to get caught, Cederic,” Sesskia scoffed. “Even without the pouvrin I can keep from being seen. I’ve been doing this for a long time—as long as you’ve been a mage, probably, maybe longer.”

  “You are not infallible, and the consequences of your failure could be fatal.”

  “Then I’ll just have to be extremely careful.” She grinned at him, that expression that never failed to catch at his heart. Tell her. Don’t tell her. Tell her.

  He sighed. “If you were a Darssan mage, I could forbid it.”

  “Lucky for both of us I’m not. We certainly couldn’t be friends like this if I were, and just think of the knowledge you’d miss out on.” The teasing look turned serious. “Believe me, Cederic, I never take unnecessary risks, and I don’t anticipate exploring the palace to be important enough to mean necessary risks. Don’t worry about me.”