The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2)

by Melissa McShane

  “This is much worse,” Crossar said, now audibly exasperated. “Their mages are powerful and experienced. We need magic to counter magic.”

  “How well do you think our mages will stand up to the invaders’ magic?” Lenssar said, sounding almost as querulous as Batekessar. “They’ve been training less than a month. They’ll be destroyed, and we’ll be where we started. Might as well not bother.”

  “Sesskia, you’ve seen the enemy’s mages fight,” Crossar said. “What is your assessment?”

  I turned, bowed slightly, and said, “Honored, the Chamber Lord of Commerce is correct that our mages are inexperienced. However, they have advantages over the enemy mages. One is that our pouvrin can be worked anywhere, without the need for the boards our enemies use, which means we are as fast or faster at responding to attacks. Another is that we know pouvrin they don’t, that they can’t defend against easily. And we’ve been training to act in concert, something the enemy mages don’t do. Most importantly, they believe we don’t have any mages, and will be unprepared for our attack.”

  “You see?” Crossar said. “We will be able to stop the invading army, but we need to strike soon, to prevent them ever reaching Venetry at all. It is time to send the troops out.”

  “I agree with Crossar,” Jakssar said. “If we wait for them to reach the city, who knows what kind of advantage they’ll gain?”

  The King said nothing. I didn’t dare turn to look at him. Finally, he said, “Sesskia, what is your opinion?”

  I turned to face him and tried not to show how alarmed I was at his question. “Honored, I’m not qualified to speak on military strategy,” I said. “You should ask General Tarallan.”

  “Tarallan has his own motives,” the King said darkly, which made me afraid for Mattiak. “I want to know what you think.”

  I swallowed to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. “I think taking the fight to the G—the enemy is a good idea, Honored,” I said. “Like Lady Jakssar says, they could gain advantage if we give them time to advance. And it might also give them time to learn of our mages’ existence.”

  The King was expressionless now, and I feared I’d said something offensive that might earn me death. But he said, “The army goes. The mages stay here.”

  “Your Majesty!” Crossar said, and I almost joined him in that expostulation. “The mages have been training to enter battle! This will cost the army its greatest advantage!”

  “We can’t leave Venetry completely unguarded,” the King said, still expressionless, but with that whine in his voice that made me itch to slap him.

  “Then we will leave a detachment of the army here,” Crossar said.

  “Not good enough,” the King said.

  “Honored, excuse me for speaking out of turn, but could you not do both?” I exclaimed. “Keep some soldiers and some of the mages here for the city’s defense. Then the army will have that advantage, and you—I mean the city will be protected.”

  “I make the decisions, Sesskia, and if you speak out of turn again I’ll have you imprisoned,” the King said, and I almost went insubstantial right there to remind him he didn’t have the power to keep me locked up. In the next second I realized I might need that advantage, so I kept quiet.

  “It’s a good idea, your Majesty,” Jakssar said. “With the mage auxiliaries, the army might be able to stop the invaders before they reach Venetry at all. And if they don’t, we have defenses in place.”

  The King looked past me, I think at Crossar, then back at me. “Very well,” he said. “Sesskia, choose half your mages to remain here. The best mages, you understand.”

  Crossar made a choking sound. I said, “Of course, your Majesty,” wishing I dared slap him. I think he’d be the better for regular slappings.

  I bowed to each person there, then left the manor and flitted to where everyone was practicing to talk to Jeddan. Then we cancelled practice and gathered everyone in the ballroom to explain what was happening. They knew how long the army had been waiting to march out, so they were all relieved it was finally happening, but when I got to the part about half of them staying behind, there was an uproar.

  I let it go on for a minute or two—let them relieve their feelings—then said, “This is going to be hard, I know, but you need to remember the point is the defense of Balaen, and it doesn’t matter where you personally make that defense. Those of you who are staying behind have what I think is the more difficult task, because you have to stay ready to fight at all times, and that’s wearying and dangerous. You risk losing your edge. And those of you who are going will face bloodshed and possibly death. But I believe every one of you is ready for those challenges. So Jeddan and I are going to discuss it, and we’ll tell you our decision in the morning. The rest of the day is yours.”

  The discussion about who to take and who to leave was intense, especially when we realized Jeddan was going to have to stay in Venetry to command those mages. He was not happy about that, but we both knew my extra pouvrin might become necessary, and there was a chance I’d have to sneak into the God-Empress’s camp again—the spies are coming along more quickly than I’d anticipated, but they’re still amateurs. I’m not happy about it. I trust Jeddan with my life, and throughout all this we haven’t been separated, so it feels strange to know he won’t be there when the fight begins. So I’m even more furious with the King than I was this morning.

  The rest of the discussion was just as difficult, because neither of us knew what criteria we should use for dividing our forces. Jeddan didn’t want me to take both Saemon and Hasseka, which might leave the defenders underpowered as far as the mind-moving pouvra went, but I argued if the God-Empress’s mages were as experienced at the mind-moving th’an as Cederic’s abilities suggested, having that extra edge was worth the risk.

  I showed Mattiak our decision at dinner and he suggested a few changes, but otherwise approved. He also wasn’t angry about the King’s decree, saying he was just glad the army was finally moving and at least would have some mages. “And you’ll be coming along, which relieves my mind,” he said with a smile. “I’d miss our conversations, and I think the mages need someone they trust to give them orders.”

  “They trust you,” I said.

  “They hardly know me,” he said. “You’re the one they look to. You’re a natural leader.”

  I felt horribly uncomfortable. “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “You only feel that way because staying in the shadows has kept you alive all these years,” he said. “You have a knack for getting people to listen to you and you can back that up with experience and talent. Use it. Don’t be afraid of it.”

  I remembered threatening Norsselen and enjoying it. “I think it’s a dangerous ability,” I said.

  Mattiak shrugged. “That’s up to you,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about something else.” And he turned the conversation to the latest news from the east, which distracted me enough that I could finish eating. But I’m still thinking about what he said.

  I don’t know if I’m a natural leader—I think he’s wrong. Even so, he’s right that the mages look to me, and I don’t feel awkward about that. Afraid, sometimes, that I’ll make the wrong decision—more afraid now that the wrong decision could get people killed—and worried I’ll use intimidation to achieve results that could be better reached through other means, but the idea of me leading people doesn’t seem so unlikely anymore. It’s unexpected, and unnerving, because this is nothing like who I was before. And yet I can’t say it isn’t me.

  Enough introspection. I’m going to ask Nessan what he thinks we should do about the spies. Leaving any of them behind is pointless, because there won’t be an enemy to practice their skills on, unlike the others who can drill with the soldiers, but if I take them, I have to leave several of my warrior mages—ooh, I like that phrase, I think I’ll start calling them that—behind, which could weaken our attacks. He’ll have a better idea than I do of how necessary their skills will be to Balaen’s ar
my.

  Chapter Eighteen

  1 Seresstine

  A new start to a new month. I’d like to think it’s auspicious, but the King came to Fianna Manor first thing this morning, and he’s not an early riser so I was afraid he was going to tell everyone he’d changed his mind. But no, he wanted to see the mages who were staying behind perform their pouvrin and prove I’d chosen the best for his the city’s defense. Since he has no way of knowing what “the best” would look like, it didn’t matter how good they were, but the truth is Jeddan and I divided the mages so each group had a balance of more- and less-experienced mages.

  So the King watched the performance, and then he wanted to know why they didn’t have uniforms. He wanted them to wear special armor and surcoats with a distinctive emblem. We explained this was so they wouldn’t stand out for the enemy to target, at which point he got this petulant look on his face and said, “We’re not ashamed to use magic in this fight, Sesskia.”

  “No, Honored, but the whole point of this strategy is to protect the mages,” I said.

  “Soldiers wear uniforms. The mages are soldiers. I want everyone to know they’re unique,” the King said. “I’ve had uniforms designed for them and they will wear them.”

  “All right, Honored,” I said. It’s too bad you can’t beat sense into royalty. I feel sorry for the King, as much as I can when I don’t have any idea what it’s like to rule a kingdom. Probably his fears are grounded in fact. But he doesn’t seem to trust his advisors, which tells me he’s alone, and that makes it hard to make good decisions. I wonder if he knows how everyone around him feels that he hasn’t ever married, or had children, or named an heir. Well, he’s the King, and the truth is despite my feelings about him, I’ll still fight to protect him and Balaen.

  We didn’t get far today, but Mattiak says he didn’t expect us to. It takes time to get an army moving, and striking camp took longer than usual because it had become semi-permanent and therefore had things that had to be packed up and left behind. That gave Jeddan and me time to shop for some more suitable clothes than the fine garb the King had presented us with. Even though Jeddan wasn’t leaving with the army, he was just as tired as I was of looking like some palace functionary’s idea of a mage, especially the silk shirts; they’re pretty and soft, but easily damaged, and Jeddan’s was scorched from where a mage’s fire whip had gotten out of control.

  I’m not sure where the money came from, but since it’s ultimately from the kingdom’s treasury, I had no trouble accepting it. I bought nice, well-made shirts and trousers with big pockets that were completely nondescript, as well as a gray wool coat with a hood lined with the fur of some animal even Jeddan couldn’t identify, and managed to pack it all up so I could carry it with me easily if it turned out I needed to run away. We said our goodbyes at the store so we didn’t have to do it with all those mages watching. I’m really going to miss him.

  I didn’t realize how much like a small town an army camp is. Balaen may not have women soldiers, but there are women who follow the army, even a few wives, and they’re all as accustomed to the life as the men are. They have their own society and didn’t look as if they welcomed us, not because they’re afraid of mages (which many of them are, surprisingly) but because we’re of such different classes as far as the army is concerned. Not that we were looking to fraternize. The soldiers were willing to train with us, but now we’re on the road it’s clear they consider us somewhere between the non-commissioned officers and Mattiak’s general staff, and therefore off limits.

  (This doesn’t stop some of the soldiers leering at our women, which is hard because I’ve told everyone not to use magic against our own men unless defending themselves against physical threat. I don’t want soldiers to start thinking of mages as evil or dangerous again.)

  We have tents near the center of camp, and (to my surprise) servants to care for our belongings and make our meals. I told Mattiak we didn’t need to be waited on, and he said, “You’re expected to focus your efforts on being ready to fight, and that means not wasting time cooking or cleaning up. Just tell the mages not to take advantage of the service. These are soldiers, and they see this as contributing to the cause—don’t insult them.”

  I have my own tent, which feels strange since the last tent I slept in was a two-man shelter little more than canvas draped over a couple of poles, and I was sharing it with Jeddan. It doesn’t have much more than a bed and a folding table and camp stool, where I’m writing this before lights-out.

  I wish we had some way to communicate. The Castaviran mages do, or did, so I’m sure we could too if we had time and space to figure it out. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening back in Venetry. And I’m used to being able to go over the day’s events with Jeddan. I can talk to Mattiak, and do, but it’s not the same because he doesn’t understand magic, just as I’m sure he feels I’m not the best conversational partner when it comes to warfare. These days we mostly talk about other things, like our childhoods—his childhood—and my travels.

  I wish I hadn’t lost those other books. I feel as if I kept my memory in them, as if by writing them down I’ve made it impossible to call those events to mind. I wonder if I will ever find them again. Do locator kathanas work on objects, or just people? Cederic might be able to help me find them, unless they were destroyed in the convergence; the Arabel Mountains did more or less appear on top of that barn where I left them.

  Having Cederic here would make things so much better, if only because if he were here, the war would be over. I can’t imagine even Mattiak being open-minded enough to let the most powerful mage of Castavir roam freely through a Balaenic military camp if we were still enemies. If I miss having Jeddan to talk to, I can’t express what I feel at not being able to tell Cederic everything that’s happening, or get his opinion on training the mages or creating new pouvrin.

  I try not to talk about him much to Mattiak, because I don’t want to bore him, but sometimes Mattiak brings him up, I think to try to cheer me even though we still don’t have word from the east. He assures me as soon as things are more settled, he’ll send messengers specifically to hunt for Cederic. It’s a sweet gesture, and I feel bad about not being able to tell him why they aren’t likely to do much good. I don’t know what he’d think if he knew my husband is a Castaviran mage. Still, he’s a good friend, and it makes me feel warm inside to know he cares.

  I wonder why Mattiak isn’t married. Maybe he thinks he has too many responsibilities in the army to be a good, attentive husband. I don’t think he’s attracted to men, and he doesn’t have a woman in the camp, but whatever his reason, it’s a mystery I won’t pry into.

  Time to put the light out. Tomorrow the army separates into divisions, I don’t know why and it doesn’t matter to me, because the mages stay with the main army instead of being dispersed. We ride in wagons because walking all day would exhaust us, and only a handful of us can ride horses. I don’t think I’ve said that a couple of our mages are upper class, though not noble, and they’ve been as quick to follow orders as anyone, but they did bring their own horses and like to tease those of us being carried.

  I suggested maybe I should learn to ride, that it might be more dignified since I’m the leader of my own “division” and all the division commanders ride, but Mattiak said riding for seven hours every day is not the best way to begin. So I sit in the wagon and we practice pouvrin, or I work on flitting to improve my recovery time between flits.

  It really is the most amazing feeling. It’s like the walk-through-walls pouvra, except there’s no uncomfortable sensation of bones and muscles sliding through matter, more like becoming air shifting through air. I think I’ll start teaching it to the other mages; Jerussa stayed behind, and she’s teaching Jeddan. I don’t think the Castavirans can do it any more than they can become immaterial, which means it’s one more weapon we

  I can’t believe I thought that. I’m turning my pouvrin against the God-Empress’s army, yes, but this is the
first time I’ve thought of a pouvra as a weapon first and magic second. I wish this war were over already. I want to get back to studying magic for its own sake instead of figuring out how I can use it to kill.

  1, possibly 2, Seresstine, very early

  Nessan woke me an hour ago and said, “Time for practice.” He’s far more diligent than I am, but he’s right, we need to practice. He took three mages elsewhere in the camp while I worked with Tobiak, who still hasn’t mastered the concealment pouvra.

  Nessan told me, when we were dividing our mage army, to leave half the spies behind, then he told me which ones were coming. I didn’t argue with him, even though I’m concerned about Tobiak’s skills in general and not just his lack of the concealment pouvra, because Nessan has many years’ experience in training intelligence officers and his instincts are excellent.

  So I have Rutika, Relania, Tobiak, and Alessabeka, and I have no idea what use Nessan will make of us. I don’t even know what he had the others do. But Tobiak is almost there, and I think if we work on it tomorrow he’ll be able to work the concealment pouvra by nightfall—just in time for Nessan to drag him (and possibly me) off to some training exercise. I’m almost looking forward to it.

  2 Seresstine, very late (or very early)

  Nessan’s idea of a training exercise is to put objects into sleeping soldiers’ tents without disturbing them and without being insubstantial except during the time it takes to enter and leave through the wall. This strikes me as dangerous, considering four of the five of us are women, and a soldier roused unexpectedly from sleep might assume the worst (or, from his perspective, the best) of intentions from a woman sneaking into his tent at night. Nessan said that was the point. I think if he could find a way to make these exercises life-threatening, he would.

  When I asked him if there was a purpose to this (I made it sound less accusatory than I did just there) he said, “I won’t know until we see the enemy what use to make of you. So we’re going to behave as if you might face anything. Tomorrow they’ll be stealing things and then putting them back. And I’ll have a special challenge for you, since I doubt you need any practice stealing things.”