We found this out—no, that happened later. They discovered the God-Empress was gone almost immediately, but her general wouldn’t talk. Not that it mattered, because of course no one could understand him. I found out about it when I went to join the mages after I finished writing the last, and Nessan was there. “We’re not sure what she thinks she’s doing,” he said, “because she can’t have that many men with her. Possibly she’s headed east again. Ran away to protect her own skin and left her men to die.”
“How is Mattiak finding anything out?” I said.
“Gestures, mostly,” Nessan said. “Their general isn’t talking anyway. Makes it hard to deliver terms.”
“It would,” I said. “I’m going to talk to Mattiak now.” I’d decided, somewhere in the middle of that conversation, I couldn’t keep my language skills secret any longer, not if my being able to speak Castaviran could make a difference to our troops. And I was the only Balaenic who knew that if the God-Empress had gone missing, she was certainly going somewhere that would let her cripple Balaen. Besides, with her gone, there wasn’t anyone who might give me away. Probably. I guess there was a chance another of those soldiers would recognize me, but nobody did. I was grateful for my good luck.
I ran across the battlefield where corpses still lay because the ground was too hard to easily dig graves, and went looking for Mattiak amid the mess. I found him in one of the Castaviran tents, staring down a Castaviran in a general’s uniform, and saying to General Kalanik, “I can only mime so much. How the hell am I supposed to ask him if he’ll give his parole?”
“I don’t know,” Kalanik said. “He won’t even give his name.”
“We need to know if they’ve got more forces on the way,” Drussik said. “Where this leader of theirs went. Why they let a woman lead them, for that matter.”
“He’s acting like someone stalling for time,” Mattiak said. There was a table between him and the general with a map of Balaen spread out on it. He gestured to include both of them, then stabbed at a point on the map. Then he pointed at the God-Empress’s battle standard, propped against the tent wall. “Where?” he said, spreading his hand across the map. The general eyed the standard, sneered at Mattiak, and sat silent with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Mattiak,” I said.
“Not the time, Sesskia,” he said, not looking at me.
“I have a solution for you,” I said. “But I’m not telling anyone but you.”
He looked up at me warily. “Do you have magic that will let me talk to him?”
“Sort of,” I said. “But in private.”
He caught the eye of each of his generals in turn, and said, “Excuse us, gentlemen,” and they all filed out, Kalanik looking annoyed, Drussik, as usual, looking suspiciously at me. When the tent was empty but for the three of us, Mattiak said, “Tell me.”
“I speak their language,” I said.
Mattiak sat back in surprise. “How?” he said.
“I can’t explain everything,” I said, “but I learned their language through magic, and I can translate for you.”
Now he was frowning. “You could have told me this earlier,” he said.
“There wasn’t any point,” I said, “and I didn’t want you or anyone else pestering me with questions. Do you want my help or not?”
“You’re not telling me everything,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” I said, “and maybe I’ll tell you more later, but for now I think we need to talk to this man and find out what’s happening.” As I spoke, a plan occurred to me, and although I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, it would solve a few problems.
I pulled up another stool and said, in Castaviran, “Hi. What’s your name?”
He recoiled. “What is a Viravonian doing in this invaders’ camp? Treachery!”
“He thinks I’m one of them,” I told Mattiak, then said to the Castaviran, “Doesn’t it occur to anyone there might be blond-haired people in both our worlds? I’m one of the, um, invaders, I happen to speak your language, and I’m here as a translator. This man is the leader of our army, and he wants to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”
He sneered. “What terms? We are nothing. God is at the head of the army. You can’t stop her.”
“Maybe so,” I said, “and I’ll agree with you this is only a partial victory so long as the God-Empress is free. But we’re not going to just let you go. Wait a minute, let me tell the General what you’ve said.”
I turned to Mattiak and said, “So here’s what he said. They worship their ruler as God—they call her the God-Empress. So this isn’t only a military matter, it’s religious. Which means he might not be willing to talk about her at all.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Mattiak said. “See if you can at least figure out where she is, and what she’s doing.”
I turned back to the general. “Why are you so ashamed of God?” I said.
He looked first confused, then angry. “I am not ashamed of God! How dare you even speak of her, foreigner?”
“Because even a foreigner knows God’s plans cannot be thwarted,” I said. “If you don’t want to tell us where she’s gone, it must be because you think foreigners are capable of stopping her. It’s lucky for you she’s not here, because I can only imagine what she’d do to you if she knew you had such little faith.”
“I am faithful to God!” he shouted, and now he looked afraid. “My loyalty has never been questioned.”
“Until now,” I said.
He lurched up from his stool and lunged at me. I leaned back as a couple of soldiers grabbed him and forced him to sit. “You are nothing,” he said. “God’s will cannot be thwarted.”
“So tell us where she went,” I said.
“Sesskia, is this safe?” Mattiak said.
“Sure,” I told him, then to the Castaviran, “Show me how confident you are in God’s will.”
He glared at me, then leaned forward to trace a line with his finger. I gasped. The path curved northwesterly away from where the battle had taken place, all the way to a point marked with three stars. Venetry.
“She’s gone to—” I said.
“I see it,” Mattiak said. “How long ago?”
I asked the question. The general had picked up on my agitation and was looking smug. “Nine days,” he said. “She took half our forces and has probably captured the city already. God will strike down your unholy cities and bring them under her protection.”
I relayed this to Mattiak, who said, “She won’t find it that easy, if her force was only the size of this one. Our troops have an excellent defensive position, and plenty of mages. I’m sure they can hold out until we can reinforce them. But we’ll need to move quickly.”
“What do you want to do with the Castavirans—that’s what they call themselves,” I added hurriedly, hoping he wouldn’t remember the general hadn’t said anything that sounded like that word.
“Just a minute,” he said, and went to the tent door to call the rest of the officers back in for a discussion. I sat and looked at the general, who stared back at me. “I don’t suppose you know what happened in Colosse after the convergence?” I said. “Oh, come on, what else do you have to do but talk to me?” I added when he gave me a mulish look. “I mean, didn’t it matter to you at all that Perce Aselfos took control of the army there?”
“What?” he said, forgetting he didn’t want to talk to me. “You lie.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know whether he was successful. I only know he tried to overthrow the God-Empress. I was wondering whether you knew anything, or if you’d just lost contact with Colosse the way everyone else did.”
“You lie,” he repeated, but I could tell he was thinking hard, reevaluating something in his head.
“Look—what’s your name?” I said.
“Arnisen,” he said, distractedly.
“I’m Thalessi,” I said. “Arnisen, what would it mean if someone were capable of stealing some of the God-
Empress’s power? Doesn’t that suggest to you that maybe she’s not as omnipotent as she claims?”
“Do not blaspheme against God!” he shouted.
Mattiak turned quickly to see what was happening. “Sesskia, be careful,” he said.
“I am,” I assured him. I turned back to Arnisen, who was breathing heavily, his pupils dilated, and said, “Sorry. I don’t know much about Castaviran culture and I don’t want to criticize your religion. But I’ve seen her kill people whose only crime was saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Not even the wrong thing—something she didn’t like. I think your people deserve something better.”
“Perce Aselfos should not dare to usurp God’s place,” he said in a low, harsh voice.
“Maybe not. I don’t know if he’s a better choice,” I said. I looked at him more closely, and said, “You were relieved to be told to attack us, weren’t you? Because you don’t like what you have to do in Viravon.”
He startled. “You know nothing of military matters.”
“That is entirely true,” I said. “But I think I know a little of what’s wrong and what’s right. And what’s going on down there is wrong.”
“Sesskia, what are you saying to him?” Mattiak said, startling me, because I’d been so rapt in my conversation with Arnisen I’d forgotten he was there.
“Just…talking about things,” I said. “Trying to make him more inclined to give us information.”
“Well, ask him if they understand parole in their country,” he said. I relayed this to Arnisen, who looked mystified. “Well, what do you do with prisoners in Castavir?” I said.
“We haven’t gone to war against anyone but Viravon in three generations,” Arnisen said. “We execute Viravonian captives.” Again that shadow flitted across his face.
“We haven’t gone to war for seventy years,” I said, “but even then we didn’t execute prisoners. That seems barbaric.”
“You know nothing of military matters,” he repeated, but weakly.
“Well, General Tarallan isn’t going to execute hundreds of enemy soldiers,” I said. I felt confident about that even though I hadn’t asked him. “And he’s not going to just let you go. That’s why he wants your word of honor you won’t try to escape until you can be exchanged.”
“It’s my duty to fight to my death for the Castaviran Empire,” he said.
I told this to Mattiak, whose face went grim. “I can’t have them all executed,” he said. “Convince him, Sesskia.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “I can’t do that!”
“Of course you can,” Mattiak said. “I’ve heard you convince those mages of yours to work together, and they’re the sort of people who’d argue about whether water was wet. And you’re the only one who speaks his language. Please, Sesskia.”
“I need some water,” I said, because my mouth had just gone dry. I drank, then offered the flask to Arnisen. He took it with some hesitation, drank, then handed it back. I stared at it for a few moments. It had a leather case that slipped over its metal; the case felt smooth and rough at the same time. I set it aside. “Arnisen,” I said, “how does your death serve the Castaviran Empire?”
He said, “It—” Then he shut his mouth.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “It’s your life that matters, isn’t it? That’s something I understand. Risking your life in the service of something important.”
“Yes,” he said. “Not allowing the enemy to defeat you. If I promise not to fight, I betray God.”
“No, you betray the person you know yourself to be,” I corrected him. “I understand that too. Am I right in saying you think offering your parole is the same as, for example, deserting your command?”
He nodded curtly. “I don’t fully understand the concept myself,” I said, “but I know it doesn’t work like that. It’s more like…being wounded. A wounded person can’t fight, can he? Or do you execute your wounded for betraying their country in being wounded?”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said, but he looked uncertain.
“I know it is. You let a wounded person recover, then you send him back into the battle to serve again. That’s what parole is. You’re out of the battle for a while, then you’re returned to your company to fight again. No shame. No dishonor. Just you serving your country in a different way.”
“No,” he said, quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “Please. You may think I’m your enemy, but the truth is I’m on the side of those who want our two countries to find peace, not destruction. Please don’t embrace death. Tell your soldiers not to fight. You’ll rejoin the fight eventually, and have your chance to defeat us.” I took a deep breath. “Or maybe you’ll decide to take a different path. All I know is I don’t want to see any more deaths. Please.”
Arnisen shook his head slowly, and my heart turned to lead. Then he said, “What is it we do, to offer our parole?”
I took another deep breath, and told Mattiak, “He accepts on behalf of himself and his soldiers.”
Mattiak looked as relieved as I felt. He gave me a series of instructions I relayed to Arnisen, who eventually stood and offered his hand to Mattiak the Castaviran way. “Clasp his wrist,” I told him, and they exchanged salutes. I was afraid to stand because I was fairly sure my knees wouldn’t support me. That didn’t matter, because they all left me sitting there while they went to arrange things. I looked at the map of Balaen, so familiar after all these years, then began mapping Castaviran landmarks onto it. The Arabel Mountains. Colosse. All those little ruins. I know so little of Castavir, but I don’t want to see it destroyed any more than I want to see Balaen in flames. If only peace were as easy as convincing one Castaviran general not to embrace death.
Mattiak came back later to thank me. He also said, “You’re a remarkable woman, Sesskia.”
His voice had that intimate tone to it, and it made me weary. “That’s what my husband thinks,” I said, sharply.
“Then he’s not a fool,” Mattiak said. “I told you, Sesskia, I can wait.”
“You’re going to wait a long time, because I told you he’s still alive,” I said.
I wasn’t looking at him—I didn’t think I could keep from losing my composure if I did—so all I knew was he was silent for a bit. Then he said, “You know, I hope he is, true God help me,” and left the tent. And I had to write or explode like one of those projectiles.
I’m starting to feel hungry, which is a relief, because I felt overwhelmed enough for a while I wasn’t sure I could feel anything else. I’m not sure what happens next. How do they enforce parole, if the army has to pack up and get back to Venetry as quickly as possible? Mattiak doesn’t seem too worried about the defenders in the capital, though he might just be putting a good face on it. But Venetry’s walls are high and solid, and Arnisen said the God-Empress only took five war wagons so they wouldn’t slow her down, though she compensated for it by taking twenty battle mages. That makes me suspicious, why she didn’t take more
Lots of noise. It’s coming from the east.
Ten minutes later, and I’m writing this quickly in case I don’t have time later. The road to the east is teeming with movement. Soldiers. Lots of pennants. I think it’s the Castaviran Army. It’s huge. We’re all dead.
Chapter Twenty-Two
14 Seresstine
No fires tonight, which is awful because the mind-moving pouvra has exhausted all of us. I didn’t get more than a nap last night. Not that anyone else has, either, since we saw the distant glinting of thousands of Castaviran soldiers coming down that highway. Between that and the unmarked snow on either side of the road, they were almost too bright to look at.
Mattiak stared at them for a full minute, then said, “Kalanik. Bronnok. Have everyone strike camp. Drussik, gather the captives on the north side of the road and make sure they’re all bound securely. And no putting the boot in. They’ve given their parole and we’ll treat them honorably.”
“As if I’d treat a helpless m
an that way,” Drussik growled, and he and the other generals left. Mattiak said, “Sesskia, I need you to translate again.”
We went back to the tent where Arnisen still sat with his pair of guards. Mattiak said, “Tell him about the oncoming army. Remind him of his parole and tell him we’re leaving our captives here. It’s up to him whether his honor means anything.”
“I don’t think he’ll see his parole as binding,” I said, but I repeated everything to Arnisen. Surprisingly, he didn’t taunt me with anything about how they were going to crush us now. He just said, “Who is leading those troops?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was trying not to let myself become excited at the possibility those troops might be led by people opposed to the God-Empress. There was no way in hell Mattiak was going to sit there and take a chance on that, and as I think I’ve written before, there’s no guarantee someone who hates the God-Empress is going to be our ally.
“And you expect us not to fight even though we will no longer be your captives?” he said.
“That’s what parole means. I told you I don’t understand it. It’s up to you what you do. I think we can’t afford to take you along, because you’ll slow us down.”
“You’ll go to your capital?” he said.
I turned to Mattiak and said, “Should I tell him our plans? Or is that something we don’t give away to our enemies?”
“We don’t have any options,” Mattiak said. “Go ahead and tell him we’re leaving for Venetry to defeat the God-Empress before her army reinforces her.”
“He says there’s a chance they’re not her allies,” I lied, and briefly explained about the attempted coup. It was so good not to have to pretend not to know things.
“Interesting,” Mattiak said when I finished, “but not something we can rely on. Tell him what we’re doing and see if he gives up anything else.”
I relayed this to Arnisen. “You’re all dead,” he said. “Even if you reach your city in time, you’ll never be able to defeat the God-Empress before the rest of the army arrives. And they will crush you whether they ally with God or not.”
The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2) Page 27