“I’m not an outsider,” I said. At this point I had the beginnings of an idea of what was going on here, but I decided to make sure before jumping to conclusions. “I’m from Thalessa. I’m guessing you don’t see many people in this part of Balaen who look like me.”
Not that I look all that strange. Even though I wasn’t born in Thalessa, Mam’s family came from the northeast, so my skin is darker than the villagers’, and my hair is dark blond instead of the brown most of them seemed to have. But I doubt most of those people have been more than thirty miles from their village in their whole lives, so any difference probably looked exotic to them. And if a Viravonian town had “appeared” somewhere nearby, full of blond-haired people who didn’t speak Balaenic, it would definitely have these people worried.
“She looks like the outsiders!” Yakon insisted.
“Where did you see these outsiders?” I said. “Did they come into town, or did you meet them outside? Maybe someone went to their village?” I probably shouldn’t have said all of that, but it suddenly occurred to me a Viravonian town might have a mage who could contact Colosse, and I was so eager to reach Cederic I forgot to be cautious. And sure enough, this put everyone on edge. The pitchfork came back up, and Riona didn’t do anything to stop it. In fact, she looked as if she wanted to take hold of it herself.
“You must be an outsider, to know so much,” she said.
At that point I could see no graceful way out of the situation. Placating them was useless. I’d already decided I wasn’t going to run. So I took the approach I’d taken with the God-Empress—I can’t believe it was only two weeks ago; it feels like forever—and went with brazen audacity.
I stepped to one side, took hold of the pitchfork just where the metal met the wooden handle, and set it on fire. The man holding it shouted and yanked his hand away. Riona tried to step back, and I threw the pitchfork down and grabbed her by the collar. I pulled her close, praying I hadn’t burned my uninjured hand in that foolhardy move.
“I am not an outsider,” I snarled at her, “but you ought to be asking yourself, if I know so much about them, whether I might be persuaded to turn that knowledge to your advantage.”
“You’re a sorcerer,” Riona said. I was impressed she wasn’t afraid of me, but not impressed enough to let her go.
“I’m a mage,” I said, “and I know why these outsiders are here.”
She thought about it for a moment, then said, “Let me go, and we’ll talk.”
It wasn’t that easy. She had to convince the crowd to stand down. Then there was some discussion about a number of people who were supposed to be there but weren’t—the missing councilors, I gathered. Then she took me to her—I thought it was her home, but it was a bakery, and instead of living quarters above it was a big room with a lot of comfortable chairs that turned out to be where the town council met. There are four councilors besides Riona, and they all just call her Chief, so I’m not sure if she’s the mayor, or first among equals, or something else. The important thing
Actually, the important thing is I’m falling asleep here. I hate getting behind in my record, but I’ll have to finish it tomorrow. I hope Jeddan is being treated well, wherever he ended up in this place. I half expect to find him gone in the morning, even though he was pretty adamant about staying close to me. At least his first exposure to Castavirans is more pleasant than mine was, though unfortunately we don’t have Terrael and his Cap of Death to confer instant fluency on him. But all that can wait for morning.
Chapter Two
20 Coloine, early
I can’t believe it only took a handful of weeks for me to grow so accustomed to my big soft bed with all the pillows that this ordinary mattress feels thin and lumpy. I didn’t sleep well, and when I did sleep I dreamed of being in this enormous house with a million doors, looking for Cederic, and every new room I entered had ten new doors leading out of it. I miss him so much. I wish these Viravonians—but I want to bring this record up to date.
So I met with the council—it occurs to me now I have no idea what that village is named. Nor do I care. They seemed so reasonable, but it turned out they were just like every other isolationist hamlet on the borders of Balaen. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The first thing I did was demand the return of my things. They refused, trying to establish their authority over me, so I sat and refused to speak until Riona, exasperated, said, “It doesn’t matter, does it?” and called for a messenger to bring me the books and the clips. I half expected them to pretend the clips had disappeared, since they are valuable—Audryn’s people must be wealthy for her to go around wearing that kind of jewelry so casually—but no, they brought everything back. I don’t know if anyone read the books, though I think not, or our conversation would have gone very differently. I was just happy they were undamaged.
The council meeting was far too long—it seemed everyone had to have their say, and their say was usually a repetition of what someone else had already said, so I’ll sum up:
Three days before, they’d experienced the same effects we had in Colosse—the pulling sensations, the confusion, and there had been some actual tremors, but (of course) they’d passed by late afternoon, and there were no lasting effects other than some furniture and boxes being knocked down. So it was a curiosity, but nothing anyone worried about.
The next day, some people came into town, people with hair like mine, armed with strange swords, looking suspicious. (No detail on what “suspicious” looks like, but I’m guessing the Viravonians were being as cautious as anyone would be in investigating a village that appeared out of nowhere, from their perspective, and that probably looked furtive.) The council didn’t know how the first interaction began, but it was immediately clear the strangers didn’t speak Balaenic.
It was, on the other hand, unclear (and here I have to commend the council for not just blaming the outsiders) how the altercation began, or why, but swords were drawn, people were injured, and one of the Viravonians used magic to help them escape. This made the villagers terrified and angry and, as a result, disinclined to give any stranger the benefit of the doubt. If I’d approached the village from the other direction, I’d have seen the fortifications they threw up to defend against the outsiders returning. They’d sent out a group of men with some military experience to follow the Viravonians, and of course they all came running back when they discovered a village where one hadn’t been before. That was two days before I showed up.
The whole time this discussion was going on, I was working out how much to tell them. Explaining about the convergence was probably a bad idea, given that they had no concept of magic except as something scary bad people use to hurt good people. But I couldn’t think how else to explain about a Viravonian town appearing two miles down the road from them. And I also couldn’t think of a good lie that would help them understand the truth. So in the end I went with the truth, though I had to gloss over the details of how magic works to accommodate their lack of understanding on that front.
When I was done, they all sat there, as I’d expected. Then one of them (I don’t remember their names except for Riona, and even she didn’t give me her surname or placename, so I couldn’t call her by any name) said, “I would say you’re lying, but no lie is that elaborate.”
I could think of several more elaborate lies I’ve told over the years, but I kept my mouth shut. Another one said, “So what should we do now?”
I didn’t realize at first that question was directed at me. Then I said, “That’s not my responsibility. You people govern this city. You need to decide.”
Riona said, “Will they have many…you said, mages?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but probably more than just the one. Maybe not many more. I got the impression most mages go to the big cities for work. But magic isn’t feared in Castavir, so it’s certainly possible they’d have several.”
“And you will fight on our side?” said one of the councilors, a round-ch
eeked woman with silver hair.
That startled me. “I don’t know that it has to come to a fight,” I said, “and I have to leave in any case.”
“We have no way to communicate with them,” the woman said, “and they’ve already shown themselves to be aggressive. If you don’t fight with us, we will be overrun. Where’s your loyalty?”
“If you’re thinking like that, then you have a bigger problem than neighbors you can’t communicate with,” I said. “This is how the world is now. It’s not Balaen versus Castavir, or shouldn’t be.” But I already knew how this was going to end. I couldn’t guarantee the Viravonians wouldn’t be hostile; they’re in rebellion against an empire that has been trying to crush them for over a century. True God alone knew how they’d feel about the new world the convergence had thrust them into.
“You’re right, it isn’t your fight,” Riona said, standing up to show the meeting was over. Since I am occasionally stupid, her giving in just then didn’t rouse my suspicions. “Thanks for explaining it all. We’re sorry for the misunderstanding. Can we do anything to help you on your way?”
Well, that had me suspicious, but it was getting late and I was tired from having slept on the ground for several nights in a row, so I just said, “I was hoping to sell these clips so I could buy food for my journey.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Riona said, and called for another messenger. While she was giving the girl her instructions, I talked a bit to the other councilors about the weather, and was there a larger city nearby where I might find transportation, and so forth. I wanted to ask them why they didn’t want me dead because of my magic, but decided not to remind them about it in case it was all an oversight and they might try to execute me if they remembered.
The girl came back after about twenty minutes with a knapsack full of food, and I thanked Riona and the councilors and followed them down the stairs and out of the bakery—where I was seized by about a dozen hands that threw me down and wrapped rope around my body, tying my arms to my sides. I kicked, and shouted, and summoned fire, but they were ready for that and flung me from one pair of hands to another as they carried me off down the street, breaking my concentration.
They took me down a few steps and along a short stone corridor to a room even smaller than the shed, also windowless, made of rough brick, with a heavy wooden door that was black as if it had been burned long ago. Then they cut the rope off, but before I could break away they slapped manacles on my wrists and pulled the chains they were attached to taut so I was spread-eagled against the wall, which was damp and gritty and clung to my hair.
I shouted at them some more, and Riona came forward and said, “There’s nothing to burn in here. We’ll give you some time to change your mind, but you’re not leaving this place until you agree to fight for us.” Then she and the others left the room, and I was alone in the darkness.
I was so angry all I could do at first was shout and swear and yank on the chains, which only made my wrists hurt. Then I did the see-in-dark pouvra and looked around. They’d actually left the bag of food with me! And I still had my books and the hair clips in my pockets! I started to laugh, then stopped when it occurred to me someone might be listening. I slid my wrists through the manacles—this was hard because I kept accidentally turning them insubstantial with me—and rubbed them where the edges had cut into flesh, then I gathered up the pack of food and had something to eat before slinging it over my shoulder. If I had to leave in a hurry, I didn’t want to waste time fumbling around.
I hadn’t seen anything more of this cell than the door and the hallway that led to it, so I was reluctant to try to exit by any of the other walls, in case it was further underground than I thought—I’ve already experienced being trapped inside a large solid object and I don’t need to repeat it. So I decided to wait a couple of hours until dark, for extra security, then I was going to leave the village and…well, I didn’t exactly hope the Viravonians overran them, but I was angry enough I didn’t much care if their stupidity hurt them.
Only I didn’t get that far. About an hour after I’d been thrown into the cell, while I was trying to decide where to go next, I felt a horribly familiar sensation in my left arm—the queasy, slippery feeling of flesh sliding through immaterial flesh. I squeaked and threw myself in the other direction, coming up hard against the wall and scraping my cheek against the rough brick. I got quickly to my feet and tried to make my breathing slow as I looked around for whatever had passed through me.
It was a man, taller than I am, broad in the neck and shoulders. The see-in-dark pouvra told me he had short dark hair and was wearing the same kind of clothing the villagers did. That, and he couldn’t see in the dark the way I could; he was fumbling around with his hands outstretched, searching for something. “Who are you?” I said, which wasn’t a very good question, but it was better than all the other ones that occurred to me.
He stopped moving and felt behind him for the wall. “I’m here to get you out,” he said. “I’m a sorcerer. Like you.”
“Oh,” I said. It seemed ungrateful to tell him I could get myself out. So I said, “You can walk through things?”
“Yes, and see inside things, but I don’t think that’s useful right now,” he said. He sounded proud, and I remembered what they’d said about mages having only one trick. And then I realized what he’d said.
I grabbed his hand and said, “Can you teach me?” I didn’t care that we were both crammed into this tiny, damp, horrible cell; all I could think was that I’d finally met someone like me, and he knew a pouvra I didn’t!
“No, but I can make you immaterial long enough to get out of here,” he said. I realized he’d misunderstood me just as he closed his hand tightly over mine and said, “You have to hold your breath.” Then I felt the familiar sensation of my bones and muscles slipping between the wall. It was a good thing I’d reflexively taken a breath, because the stranger dragged me through the back wall of the cell without waiting for my assent. I was annoyed, a little, but—well, he still hasn’t taught me the see-inside pouvra, so I’ve decided not to call him on his impertinence.
It wasn’t quite full dark outside, and the moon was overcast by high, thin clouds. We’d come out into an alley behind a row of buildings, all of them wooden except the cell. I tried to yank my hand away from my rescuer’s, but he held on and said, “You have to follow me exactly or we’ll be seen.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me your praenoma,” I said. I realize how rude it was to demand that gift of him, but he was asking me to trust him with his life, and that’s an intimate enough relationship to justify it.
“Jeddan,” he said, as casual as you please, so he must have felt the same way. “Now follow me.”
“No,” I said. “I have a better way.”
He turned to look at me, and even in the dimness I could see his mouth open to argue with me, so I worked the concealment pouvra on both of us and enjoyed how his expression went from annoyed to confused to awestruck before the pouvra forced me to look away. “It’s not invisibility, but it will keep people from looking at us,” I said, “and we have to go on holding hands or I can’t conceal you.”
I’ve known Jeddan for a few days now, and it’s true he has some habits that irritate me, but he’s quick to grasp the essentials of a situation and he doesn’t waste time exclaiming about how wonderful or impossible something is. He took us through the back streets of the village, not that there were many of them, and into the forest that lies to the east without raising any alarms. Once we were safely inside the trees, I released the pouvra and we both stood there rubbing the feeling back into our fingers. “Thanks,” I said, again deciding not to tell him I could have escaped on my own.
“They were going to kill you,” Jeddan said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“They weren’t going to kill me, they wanted me to help defend the village,” I said.
He shook his head. “That was the council. There were
a lot of villagers who wanted you dead. They’re afraid of any magic, and yours…I didn’t even know fire was possible.”
“Oh,” I said. “Then I really am grateful.” I probably would have escaped on my own before the villagers were a threat, but if not, I couldn’t have fought them all off.
“Like I said, you’re a fellow sorcerer,” Jeddan said. “I knew there had to be others, but I’ve never met any.”
“We’re called mages, and neither have I,” I said.
“I’ve never heard that word,” he said.
“It’s in most of the oldest books, and I like it better than ‘sorcerer.’ Can you teach me your see-inside pouvra?” I said.
“I don’t know. Is…pouvra…what you call magics? Can you teach me yours?” he said.
“We’ll have to see,” I said, and then I remembered my actual goal. “But I don’t have time to find out. I have to be on the road again.”
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
That threw me. “No, you’re not,” I said, which sounded stupid then and still sounds stupid when I write it now.
Jeddan was just a big dark shape against the trees, but I could tell he’d squared his shoulders like he was expecting a fight. “I’ve been studying magics—pouvra—for four years,” he said. “I was caught in a mudslide, thought I was dead, then I was sliding through it—between it—and I knew I’d done something I couldn’t bear to give up. Magic is everything to me, and I’m not going to lose the chance to learn more of it. And I know you want to learn what I know, too. So I’ll stay behind, if that’s what you want, because I’m not going to force my company on anyone. But I think you want me with you.”
It was true. I did. “You’re right,” I said. “We need each other. And there’s so much more to magic than you realize.” I looked around, remembered Jeddan couldn’t see in the dark, and reached for his hand, which is really big and strong. I keep forgetting to ask what he does for a living. “We’re going to find a place to sleep, and then in the morning we’re going to pay a visit to some people who may or may not be friendly. And they don’t speak our language. So you’ll just have to trust me, okay?”
The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2) Page 2