The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2)

by Melissa McShane

  Our guide took us the wrong way at first, and I had to remind myself I was a newcomer and a country girl and of course had no way of knowing where King and Chamber meet. He corrected himself without any slips that might suggest he’d made a mistake, which I approved of, and soon we were in the southwestern wing of the manor and stopping in front of a large double door banded in red-painted iron. Two soldiers stood there. They didn’t look as awe-inspiring as their brothers in the entry hall, but they clearly took their job of standing and staring into space seriously.

  “Messengers to speak to the King. They get five minutes,” our guide said, handing over the note.

  “They’re in session. No one goes in,” the soldier on the left said.

  “How soon?” our guide said.

  “No idea,” the soldier said. “They can wait if they want.”

  Our guide turned to us and said, “You can see the King when the session’s up. It shouldn’t be more than an hour or so.” He nodded at us and went back the way he’d come.

  I glanced at Jeddan, who shrugged. We were both thinking another hour’s delay wasn’t going to matter, and it wasn’t as if we could do anything about it. So we waited. I leaned against the wall, surreptitiously examined my surroundings, and plotted a way to draw the guards away so I could enter the chamber. Then I remembered I was now capable of assassinating the King with magic, which would be the only reason for me to sneak into that chamber, and it made me feel sick.

  So instead I counted stones, made lists, daydreamed about what it would be like when I found Cederic, and went over the see-in-dark pouvra for possibilities of companion pouvrin. I didn’t have any success on that last one, but I haven’t given up. It does make me impatient to rejoin the Darssan mages and practice turning th’an into pouvrin. Which reminds me I haven’t practiced the binding pouvra for a while. No sense, when it doesn’t do anything, and we’ve got so many other interesting things to pursue.

  I don’t know how long we waited, but it was a lot longer than an hour before some signal imperceptible to me led one of the soldiers to throw open half of the chamber door and say, “Your Majesty, my Lords, these messengers beg five minutes of your time.” No one said anything in reply, but he advanced into the room, out of sight, and Jeddan and I looked at each other, wondering if we were supposed to follow.

  I’d almost decided to stop hesitating when the soldier came back and said, in a low voice, “Approach to the edge of the carpet, go to one knee, and keep your head lowered until you’re told to rise. Address them all as “Honored” and don’t say anything until you’re spoken to. Say your piece and wait to be dismissed.” He gave Jeddan a little shove. “You first,” he said.

  So Jeddan went through the door, and I followed him, which means my first view of King and Chamber was obscured by his massive shoulders. I knew what the room looked like, of course: it’s not big, and windowless, I’ve heard for security reasons.

  The walls are covered by the Lessareki tapestries, which are so valuable no one could put a price on them. Their value comes not from their materials or their subject matter (the life of a minor Queen of Balaen from maybe two and a half centuries ago) but because they were created by Balaen’s most famous artist, whose placename is still one of the most popular girls’ praenomi in the country. I’ve never had time to admire them properly, and of course today wasn’t the right moment. But it was exciting to be in their presence.

  There’s a square black rug in the center of the room, and five chairs are set in a circle on it, all of them identical as a reminder that in this place, King and Chamber are equal in the service of Balaen.

  Hahahaha.

  Anyway, I didn’t actually see any of this until Jeddan stopped and knelt, and I took a quick step to the side and knelt next to him and bowed my head. That only gave me a quick glimpse of four men and one woman, all of them looking at us. Then the King said, “Deliver your message.” (He has a distinctive voice that sounds like it’s coming from the back of his head and gets pinched a little on the way out. It’s not a voice you forget, even if you’ve only ever heard it while you’re hiding in a cupboard listening to him grouse at his valet for not ironing his nightshirt properly.)

  Jeddan didn’t raise his head, which was probably the right decision. “Honored,” he said, “we come from Calassmir, where an enemy army has attacked the city as its first move in invading Balaen.” I hated saying it this way, because it wasn’t going to make the King more friendly toward the Castavirans who weren’t the God-Empress’s pawns, but explaining the Castaviran sociopolitical situation and the consequences of the convergence would just have confused everything.

  There was silence. I’d expected a least a couple of gasps, but no. Then, “Rise,” said the King, “just you, young man,” and I had to keep kneeling, which annoyed me. “You’re not a soldier,” he said.

  “No, Honored, we’re both just loyal Balaenics who were in the right place when it mattered,” he said. “We were traveling here to look for other mages like us, and meant to stop in Calassmir for provisions, and nearly got caught by the foreign army. It looked impossible for our soldiers to get a message out, so we figured we ought to take it ourselves, just in case.”

  “Foreign army meaning these invaders who have appeared among us in the last month?” said another man. He had a rich, strong voice, and if I hadn’t known who the King was I’d have thought this man was him.

  “I think so, Honored,” Jeddan said.

  “Then this puts a new light on their tactics in the north,” he said, half to himself. “How long before they arrive?”

  “I don’t know, Honored, I’m no soldier,” Jeddan said. “We were there 24 or 25 Coloine and based on what the surrounding villages said, the attack had only started a couple of days before that.”

  “You took too long about it,” said a woman. Debarra Jakssar, Chamber Lord of Transportation. Her voice was nearly as deep as the other man’s, but more gravelly even though it was still clearly a woman’s voice.

  “We’re truly sorry, Honored, we came as quick as we could, but we were on foot,” Jeddan said.

  “You should have requisitioned horses,” said a third man, this one sounding very old, so I guessed he was Jarlak Batekessar, Chamber Lord of Agriculture. I’ve worked enough harvests to know he’s disliked by farmers, particularly the ones with the big estates, because of the demands he puts on them. “This is far more important than anything else you could do.”

  “We can’t ride, Honored, and we didn’t have any proof we were what we said we were,” Jeddan said. “The soldier Nessan at the gate showed great insight when he passed us through.”

  “That’s his job,” the rich-voiced man said. “How many insurrections did you pass on your way here?”

  “I beg your pardon, Honored, but I don’t know what you mean,” Jeddan said. My knees were starting to ache. I have no idea how Cederic manages to hold that position indefinitely.

  “The other invaders. They were causing disruption in preparation for their army to attack our cities, hoping to weaken us?” he said.

  “Ah, no, Honored, we didn’t see anything like that,” Jeddan said. “Most of those invader towns kept to themselves. And a lot of our people were, um, subduing them themselves.”

  “Good initiative,” said the last man, whose voice had a bit of a whine to it, a whistling sound like he was speaking through a blocked nostril. “We ought to send another decree, commending their patriotism and encouraging them to stand strong against invasion.”

  “I don’t want civilians interfering in military affairs, Lenssar,” the rich voice said. “Self-defense is one thing, but vigilante action is dishonorable.”

  “I didn’t mean we should tell them to take up arms,” Lenssar said. Lenssar is Chamber Lord of Commerce and I don’t remember his first name. I don’t know much about him at all.

  “Any encouragement could be seen as just that,” the rich voice said, and I realized he had to be Caelan Crossar, Chamber Lor
d of Defense. He’s got a reputation for cleverness and has maintained the army at full strength even though Balaen hasn’t been at war since forever, which says a lot about his influence over King and Chamber. I don’t know if he genuinely believes Balaen is in danger of invasion, or if a strong army increases his political power, but either way it’s due to him that Balaen could repel such an invasion if it came.

  “I’m more concerned about us being overrun,” said the King. “Shouldn’t we draw the army back to protect the city?”

  “I’ll send word to General Tarallan for his analysis,” Crossar said. “He knows the tactical situation better than we do.”

  “I don’t want the army wasting time pacifying an enemy city just to have this one captured,” the King said, whining.

  “Your Majesty, we will make the decision that will best keep Balaen safe, and that includes this city,” Crossar said. “How many magickers do they have?”

  It took us both a second to realize he was talking to us. “Um,” Jeddan said.

  “Seven squads of ten each,” I said, thinking fast. The only thing I knew was battle mages were, in fact, organized into squads of ten, and that each squad had its own standard, with a unique emblem and a red and black border. In reconnoitering the camp, I’d seen at least seven battle standards. What I didn’t know was how many of those battle mages had retained their powers. I’d been told once that the green-eyed mages tended toward academia and private service, so I’d guess the military would have fewer than their counterparts from the Darssan, a third of whom had green-gray eyes. But that didn’t tell me anything certain. So I gambled that they’d have more squads than I’d observed, but fewer functional mages within those squads, and it would come out to roughly the same number either way.

  “You were not addressed,” Crossar said.

  “I’m sorry, Honored, but I’m the one who went into the enemy camp to learn where the army was going next,” I said. I was tired of being ignored.

  “Were you?” Crossar said. “Rise.”

  I stood, feeling wobbly, and got my first look at King and Chamber. The King I’ve seen before; he’s an average-looking man, not someone you’d peg as a leader, and has the slightly flushed cheeks and pouchy expression of someone whose diet is too rich.

  Batekessar looks as old as he sounds—I think he’s in his seventies—with unpleasantly pale skin and deep grooves carved into his face, dragging his mouth into a permanent frown.

  Jakssar is a lovely woman with a matronly, comfortable figure, but she has a mannish haircut and wears robes and trousers like the men instead of a formal gown, which makes me wonder about her position on the Chamber, if she feels she has to act like a man to get respect. I felt sympathy for her, if that was the case.

  Lenssar gave me a bit of a shock, because he looks so much like Cederic—long dark hair, high cheekbones, crooked eyebrows. He’s about ten years older than Cederic, though, and shows it, and he’s got dark, deep-set eyes that are nothing like my husband’s. Even so, it threw me off balance enough that Crossar had to repeat himself. “I said, you were in the enemy camp?” he said, rising and coming to face me.

  “I was, Honored,” I said. Crossar doesn’t look anything like his voice. Not that he’s ugly; he has silvery-dark hair, and a short beard, the kind that only goes around his mouth and chin, but he’s incredibly thin, and his nose is sharply pointed, and his lips are narrow, and between that and the hair he reminded me of a needle. I won’t deny he made me nervous, because I couldn’t read him at all.

  “Daring work, for a woman,” he said.

  “I’ve always been good at not being noticed, Honored,” I said. I put that “for a woman” remark aside to be angry about later.

  “How were you able to identify the enemy magickers?” he said.

  I was really glad he’d asked that question, because I’d forgotten for the moment I wasn’t supposed to be able to speak Castaviran and thus couldn’t have learned anything by reading or overhearing it. Crossar is clever enough that if I slipped up, he’d know it.

  “I saw some of them working pouvrin, Honored,” I lied, “and the ones I saw wore special uniforms. I was there long enough to observe that they were organized into groups, and I counted those to learn how many they had. Though it’s possible there were more squads somewhere closer to the city, because I wasn’t able to explore the whole camp.”

  “Did you see their leader?” he asked.

  “I…think so, Honored,” I said, concluding rapidly it might be good for them to know who their most important target was. “There was a finely dressed woman who seemed to be giving orders. All the officers bowed low to her, and it looked as if they were explaining the strategy to her and waiting for her instructions.”

  “A woman at the head of an army,” Lenssar said with a frown.

  “Something to keep in mind, at least,” Crossar said. “You have served Balaen well, both of you. What are your names?”

  “Thalessi Scales and Rokyar Axe. Honored,” I said, almost forgetting the politeness ritual in my worry that I’d done wrong in speaking for Jeddan, since they clearly thought him more important because he was male. Bastards.

  “I ask the honor of your praenomi, for Balaen to honor you,” the King said. He sounded peeved that Crossar had taken the role that should have been his.

  I looked past Crossar, and said, “Honored, my name is Sesskia.”

  “And mine is Jeddan,” Jeddan said.

  “And you are both magickers,” the King said, coming forward and having to push past Crossar, who paused the tiniest fraction of a second before moving away. Crossar’s eyes, which are nearly as light as his silvery hair, stayed fixed on me, and I wished I dared hide behind Jeddan again. I dislike being the focus of attention of anyone who has the power to make me disappear in the night. Which is probably all wrong, and Crossar is actually a good man who’s committed to the defense of Balaen.

  Hah. Unlikely. People in power don’t get to be that way by being nice to others. He might have Balaen’s good at heart, but there’s no way he cares anything for me, or for Jeddan, except for how useful we might be to his plans. I wish I believed being a known mage was somehow a protection.

  The King came to stand right in front of us, examining our eyes. I let mine go unfocused so I wouldn’t go cross-eyed at how close the tip of his nose was. “Those with your peculiar green eyes are magickers,” he observed, inanely as far as I was concerned.

  “Yes, Honored,” Jeddan said.

  “And will you demonstrate your magics for us?” he said.

  We did our usual tricks—it was starting to feel as if we were performing animals—and received the usual reaction, which was to say, nothing at all. They’ve probably seen any number of mages in the last month. What I don’t understand is why everyone in Venetry seems to have adjusted so quickly to the idea of magic, when it’s always been feared and hated before. Something else must have happened to change everyone’s mind.

  I guess it’s possible that seeing the Castavirans work magic might have convinced a few key people that maybe Balaen should encourage mages of their own, but it would have been days after the convergence before anyone encountered a Castaviran mage to learn about magic at all, and some of these pouvrin aren’t exactly subtle in their manifestation. I’d think a lot of mages would have been killed in those early days, so to go from executing people to being blasé about magic seems unlikely. One more thing I want to ask about. It’s frustrating, really, because I keep finding reasons to delay leaving Venetry, which means it’s all my fault I’m still here.

  I’m getting off course again. We did our pouvrin, and then we were standing there wondering if we could leave, and was there some politeness ritual we had to follow, when the King said, “I invite you to dine with me, Jeddan and Sesskia. I feel it is my duty to understand the plight of my southern subjects, and you will tell me of your journey and of magic. We have magickers who have become conversant with two or even three magics, you know!”r />
  I gave him the wide-eyed stare of amazement he was angling for, and his smile broadened. “Come, you will be provided with the wherewithal to bathe, and new clothes, and you needn’t be overawed, I’m just a man, after all!” He clapped his hands together delightedly and left the room by a tiny door to our left.

  “Of course he leaves it to us to handle the details,” muttered Lenssar, then in a louder voice he said, “You are indeed favored highly among your class. I hope you will show proper appreciation for his Majesty’s condescension.”

  “Yes, Honored,” Jeddan said. “Where should we go?”

  Batekessar rose and walked past us without a word. The others didn’t seem to think there was anything strange about this. “I’ll summon a servant to take you to the guest wing,” Jakssar said, though she didn’t rise, just sat there looking at us with the same intent expression Crossar had. I was starting to feel twitchy.

  “It makes one wonder,” Lenssar said, and I had to avoid looking at him because that whiny whistle coming out of a face so eerily familiar was too disconcerting, “how society will be shaken up, all these nobody magickers coming up from nowhere.”

  “Be polite, Lenssar, you’re talking about our guests,” Jakssar said, and now she did stand. “You went into the invading army’s camp, young woman? How thrilling. Whatever prompted you?”

  “I wanted to help our country, Honored,” I said.

  “I don’t know many people who would take such a risk simply to help their country,” Jakssar said. She came to stand in front of me, looking down—she’s not hugely tall, but taller than me—and I had this strange feeling I was in front of the God-Empress again. They’re nothing alike physically, and Jakssar strikes me as sane, so I’m not sure what I was responding to. I’ve decided to be very careful if I have to interact with her again. She may seem friendly, and I have sympathy for her position, but she’s still a Lord of the Chamber and every bit as ruthless as her peers to hold that position.