The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  “I think that is an unreasonable request. But I will try to remember that I have faith in your abilities.” He picked up the tray and went to the door. “Take care, Sesskia.”

  Later that night, he lay awake and thought of her. He needed to stop doing that. In Colosse, he would be observed all the time, would have to be constantly alert to ward off any attacks the God-Empress might bring against the mages, and the summoning kathana would need all his attention. Thinking of Sesskia was an indulgence he couldn’t afford, but he couldn’t stop himself, as if he were falling off a cliff and she was all that stood between him and the stony ground.

  He fell asleep clutching that image and found himself in an old familiar dream, the first dream, in which they stood atop that precipice holding each other. But this time, she put her hand behind his head and pulled him down so she could kiss him, her lips soft against his and the very tip of her tongue flickering out to brush against his mouth. He groaned, and they were in an empty room with smooth walls and floor, and he pushed her up against the wall and felt her respond with an eager desire that matched his. Another movement, and they were both naked, though he could only feel her skin against his and not see her shape, and—

  then he was awake, breathing heavily and on fire with need. He had his hand on the doorknob before he came to his senses, then had to clutch it so hard he was afraid he would crush it. If you burst in on her like this, you’ll destroy everything you’ve built between you. Still breathing heavily, he returned to his bed and flung himself face-first onto it. This could not go on. He would be useless to everyone if he could not control himself.

  He made himself think logically, trying to convince his body to relax and forget that horribly, beautifully realistic dream. If he told her how he felt now, she would either spurn him (the list of possible ways she might do this was far too long) or tell him she felt the same. If she spurned him, things would become awkward between them, and since they had to work together on the kathana, that could be disastrous. If she loved him…well, that would be its own distraction, but not as bad a one; the problem was that her love would give the God-Empress a handle on him. He prided himself on rationality, but he wasn’t sure he could stand firm when the God-Empress was threatening to torture Sesskia if he didn’t obey. Which meant that not telling her was the only sane course of action.

  I will tell her when the convergence is over, he thought, then planned ways of doing so until he finally fell asleep. He didn’t dream again that night.

  (18 Lennitay)

  Cederic sat at his usual seat in the mages’ dining hall and pretended not to look for Sesskia. Like him, she always sat in the same place; him alone or with Denril, her with Master Engilles and Master Ustanz. Unlike him, she talked enthusiastically and laughed without self-consciousness, cheerful despite the precariousness of their position. It wasn’t because she was stupid, or frivolous, he’d decided; she simply knew how to find joy where others—himself—could see only despair. But today her seat was empty.

  He took a bite of—it was porridge, whatever had possessed him to choose that from the kitchen? He’d been preoccupied with the latest problem with the summoning kathana, something he’d been working on with the other Sais for a few days now. He must be truly caught up in working out the correct th’an not to have noticed what was put on his plate. He hadn’t even noticed he was holding a bowl.

  It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Sesskia much at all since she had returned from her day with the God-Empress. They’d talked about it briefly, and Sesskia had asked questions about the different color-days, and now that he thought about it, she had seemed unusually subdued, but he’d put it down to tiredness from driving around in the heat all day. Her nose had been sunburned, something that made her look younger than she was, and he’d thought about offering to relieve the pain, but healing th’an were all rather intimate, and he didn’t dare cross that divide between them.

  And after that brief conversation, he’d been busy with the kathana and hadn’t spoken to her at all. He’d been aware of her presence, as always, but she had…she’d still been rather subdued, hadn’t she? Uncharacteristically quiet. Master Peressten hadn’t commented on it, when he gave his daily report on her progress with the fire th’an, but he wasn’t the sort of person who easily noticed people’s emotional states.

  He pushed his bowl away, wrinkling his nose at it in distaste, and went to where Master Engilles and Master Ustanz sat. They sat up straighter when he approached; he’d paid attention since they’d arrived in Colosse and joined the other mages, and was chagrined to realize the Darssan mages were far more formal around him than in interacting with the other Sais, except Denril, whom they avoided, either from loyalty to him or from personal dislike, he wasn’t sure. Those other Sais were capable of joking with the Masters without losing their respect, but he didn’t know how to maintain discipline through anything but formality. He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have them as friends. He wished he could, to share in their mutual affection for Sesskia. Perhaps when Master Peressten became Sai, or Kilios…but that was still years in the future. Assuming they had a future. He shook that bleak thought away.

  “Excuse me,” he said, “I am looking for Sesskia. Do you know where I might find her?”

  The women looked at each other. Could they hear his emotions in the way he spoke? Surely not. “Sesskia wasn’t well last night,” Master Engilles said. “She’s been having trouble sleeping the past few nights and I gave her something to help her relax. We were going to check on her after breakfast.”

  “I will see if there is anything I can do to help,” he said. “I hope she is not ill.”

  “I think she’s just tired from working on the kathana,” Master Ustanz said. “Couldn’t you arrange for her to have a rest day, or something, Sai Aleynten?”

  “I think so, if it turns out she is overworked. She certainly bears a greater burden than any one of us.”

  “Sai Vorantor—” Master Engilles began, then closed her mouth and looked around as if she were afraid someone could hear the thoughts she could not speak.

  “Sai Vorantor is very committed to this work,” Cederic said, blank-faced. “He sometimes forgets the limitations of others.” Sai Vorantor cares little for anything that will not advance his personal power.

  “I’m sure he means well,” Master Ustanz said, with an expression that said she didn’t believe her own words.

  “We all could use a rest day, Sai Aleynten,” Master Engilles said with a meaningful look.

  “I will ask Sai Vorantor again,” Cederic said, “but we have very little time left. We must all do our utmost.” He nodded at the women and left the dining hall, ascending the stairs to the Sais’ wing as quickly as he could without running. Trouble sleeping—uncharacteristically sober—isolating herself—something was definitely wrong, and he would do everything in his power to fix it.

  He passed a servant in the hall and wrinkled his nose at the stink of vomit coming from the rags she carried in a basket over her arm. He knocked on Sesskia’s door and waited for an invitation. Silence. He opened it anyway and went into her room.

  She was in bed, lying with her back to the door, curled in on herself as if in pain or misery. He could hear her slow breathing, but it was not the sound of someone who was asleep. So, pretending sleep so he would leave her alone? Did she think he was another servant? The faint smell of vomit still hung in the air; she might just be ill. He thought back over the last three days, recalled memories he hadn’t realized he’d made, how despondent she’d been. She hadn’t looked ill. She had looked haunted.

  Making a guess, he said, “You are not asleep. And you did not tell me everything. What happened when you were with the God-Empress?”

  She rolled over to look at him. Her eyes were shadowed, her nose was peeling, and she would have made a comical figure if her face hadn’t been so still and miserable. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.

  He wanted
so badly to give her the comfort she needed. A simple embrace—that would be acceptable between friends, yes? But he knew well that once he had his arms around her, he wouldn’t be able to stop at an embrace. So he went toward the bed and stopped a few feet from her. She was wearing a loose shirt with a wide neck that had slipped down over one shoulder, and he had to concentrate on her face to keep from becoming aroused at the sight. “Whatever happened is making you ill,” he said quietly, “and will continue to do so as long as you allow it to fester inside you. Tell me.”

  She looked up at him with those beautiful, haunted eyes. “I didn’t realize just how little she cares for human life,” she said. “Cederic, we were always—everywhere we went, anyone we met was just a thing to her, something whose death was meaningless. That man at the eating place would have died if someone else hadn’t been quick-witted enough to distract her insanity. And—” she took a deep, shuddering breath—“for all I know she decided they paid too much attention to her on a rose day and sent her soldiers back to shut those people into the building and burn it down. And the only reason she didn’t kill me is that I tricked her into thinking the river could obey me.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. Don’t worry was fatuous and a lie. You’re safe was doubly so. And he couldn’t assure her that all those people were safe when they both knew Renatha Torenz’s mad whims meant exactly the opposite.

  Sesskia lowered her head. Her hand was picking at the coverlet, twisting it around her fingers. “She killed the collenna master,” she said quietly. “Her soldiers picked the woman up off the seat and just…twisted her neck. I can still hear it snapping. It wasn’t even a snap, more like the pop of a knuckle cracking. She looked so surprised. She didn’t even have time to be afraid. I can’t stop seeing her face, except now, sometimes it’s Audryn, or Terrael, and in my dreams I can’t do anything but watch, as if I don’t know a single pouvra.”

  “And you are not accustomed to helplessness,” he managed.

  She nodded. “And at the end,” she said, “when we were back in the palace, she asked me about our progress on the summoning kathana, and I babbled something about how everyone was doing their best, and she said—it was something like “then I will allow a little more time.” As if we were all working at her sufferance. And I know…I swear I’m doing my best, Cederic, but it’s just not coming together and if I can’t…”

  She stopped, clenched her fists in her lap, and said, “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m wrong that everyone’s safety depends on me.”

  She raised her head and looked at him with those enormous eyes, and his heart turned over in his chest. At that moment he could have killed the God-Empress and been cut down in turn by her guards and counted it no sacrifice if he could lift her burden. “You are not wrong,” he said.

  He reached out and pressed the tips of his first and middle fingers against the center of Sesskia’s forehead and pushed just a little, saying, “Lie back.” Obediently she lay back on her pillow, puzzled, and he was struck by a desire to comfort her that was so strong he had to turn away and lean on her dressing table, fighting for control. “This is not a burden you should bear, and I cannot take it from you,” he said. “But I may be able to ease it.”

  He turned around and returned to her side and, daringly, tugged at the neck of her shirt to expose more of her throat. “This will make you sleep, and keep you from dreaming,” he said, “and it may also clear your mind to make your task easier. Do not go wandering tonight, Sesskia. That is not a request.”

  She nodded, and the movement made her chin brush against his fingers. He had never touched her since the first day, when he caught her trying to sneak out of the Darssan, and at that time he had no interest in her except as a problem he needed to solve. How far we’ve both come from that moment, he thought, and pressed gently up on her chin so he could see her throat.

  He could feel her eyes still fixed on him, but he focused on the th’an he needed and traced their outline on her skin with the tip of his forefinger. She sighed, and as he lifted his hand to her brow he saw that her eyes had already begun to close. He traced more th’an on her forehead and watched her eyelids flicker just a little, those thick black lashes settling to rest on her face like a silken fringe. Before he could stop himself, he brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, so lightly he hoped she wouldn’t notice. She smiled a little, and leaned into his touch, and then her breathing changed, and he stood there with his hand on her face, unable to move.

  She was asleep, he told himself, it didn’t mean anything, but his heart didn’t want to be convinced. He removed his hand, and Sesskia rolled onto her side, tucking her hand under her cheek as if capturing his touch. It was more than he could bear. He turned and swiftly crossed the room, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him—she would be so upset to know she’d slept unprotected.

  He passed Masters Engilles and Ustanz in the hallway. “Sesskia is sleeping,” he told them. “She was...overcome by the pressures of trying to learn this th’an. She will wake this evening and I think she will be well.”

  “Thanks, Sai Aleynten,” Master Ustanz said. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Continue to perform to the best of your abilities,” Cederic said, “which I know are exceptional. Help Sesskia realize that we all share her burden. I believe she became overwhelmed because of the isolation she must necessarily work in.”

  “We’ll make sure she’s not alone, Sai Aleynten,” Master Engilles said.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Shall we go to the circle chamber? I have observed your progress and I believe the Darssan mages have mastered their part of the kathana, so I think we should try to perform it in active form.”

  But all day, as he supervised the mages’ work with the kathana, and argued politely with Denril about Sesskia’s absence while wishing he had the power to simply order Denril to be sensible, he could still feel her cheek under his fingers, and began to question whether his decision to remain silent was best. How bad could it be, after all, if he declared his love for her and she didn’t return his affection? She was honest and kind and considerate and wouldn’t be cruel, and they were both reasonable people; they could work past any awkwardness it might create between them. And suppose she does return my affections? I barely dare imagine it.

  He responded absently to a Sai who, by the sound of his voice, had addressed him at least once already. Think of how she reacted when the burden of this kathana was laid on her, he thought. Imagine what kind of burden your love might be if she feels nothing for you. Stay silent, be patient, and one day, perhaps....

  He went with a servant to Sesskia’s room late that afternoon, giving the woman instructions for Sesskia’s care. Then he spent the rest of the evening distracted, irritable though not showing it, and ended up lying on his bed, sleepless, wondering if his th’an had helped her at all. If he shouldn’t go back to her room—no, that was a terrible idea. Eventually, he fell into an uncomfortable, dreamless sleep.

  (30 Lennitay-2 Coloine)

  He ended up in the observatory without remembering how he’d gotten there or what he’d been thinking. It was possible he hadn’t been thinking at all. His mind insisted on replaying everything in a kind of hallucinatory detail, the images sharp-edged as if he were feverish, the sounds echoing in memory. They aren’t meant to be apart, Master Peressten said, with that pitying, embarrassed look on his face, and Denril’s mocking, triumphant voice saying I’ll have some ideas for your research as if he were a child and not Kilios and Denril’s intellectual superior. Which, apparently, he wasn’t.

  And the whispers and glances, eyes averted when he happened to look their way. Master Engilles’ tears and the white, shocked expression on Sesskia’s face. That last memory filled him with more humiliation than the rest. He wanted only to be worthy in her eyes, and now he was nothing but a laughingstock, a strutting, preening fool.

  He walked over to the edge of the observatory and looked down to the ba
se far below. The bricks of the wall made an irregular pattern, and he spent some time analyzing it, because while he was thinking about that he couldn’t also think about what had happened in the circle chamber. And then he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He should have seen the truth. He had seen the truth, but he’d told himself he could find another way. He’d been condescending in his own mind toward Denril and the other Sais, pitying their blindness; he’d felt smug when Denril’s letters revealed yet another failure on their part and had amused himself by devising kathanas that worked far better than theirs.

  He closed his eyes and shuddered with the effort to master himself. He was in Denril’s power now, Denril whose glee at seeing Cederic proved wrong so publicly revealed his deep-seated hatred of his “old friend.” He would use this to tear Cederic down at every opportunity, and Cederic would be powerless to fight back because Denril would be right: he was a proud, self-righteous fool whose skills and learning were a sham.

  He heard footsteps, distantly, and closed his hands on the pillars to either side of him as if he could tear chunks from their stone. He needed to be alone, not forced to endure pity or mockery or whatever someone might feel entitled to inflict on him. He heard his name shouted, and humiliation surged through him again, because it was Sesskia’s voice. He couldn’t bear to see her look at him with pity in those beautiful eyes. She might go away, he thought, then smiled, bitterly, because if there was one thing Sesskia could be counted on to do, it was to pick away at a mystery until it fell apart and lay bare and defenseless before her.

  Her boots tapped almost noiselessly up the steps, paused, then came toward him, slowly. He said, hoping to forestall her, “There are stones in a strange pattern here.”