But I’ve felt a little low today, like I’m coming down with a cold, so eventually I excused myself and came back here to re-read some of my records, all the nice ones like the rest day at the Darssan and the first night Cederic and I spent together. It was obvious, as I read that one again, that if I had been Castaviran, I would have been sending all sorts of signals that I wanted to marry him right then. In fact, it’s surprising he wasn’t offended by what to him must have looked like brash forwardness.
And it’s no wonder he was so adamant I understand why he couldn’t spend the night with me after letting me fall asleep in his arms; a Castaviran woman might have taken that as a breach of promise. I wonder how many other cultural misunderstandings we’ll have, when we’re finally together again to have them.
I can’t think of anything else to write. I think I’ll go find Nessan and see if he can think of any exercises you can do in a snowstorm.
I can’t believe I’m that desperate for entertainment.
23 Seresstine, noon
The storm blew itself out in less than twenty-four hours, and we’re getting ready to strike camp and move on. In fact, we’re waiting for the runners to come back with the news that the Castavirans are on the move—wouldn’t want to run into them too soon. I don’t feel like practicing pouvrin now; I feel achy and tired and I’m definitely coming down with a cold. It had better be gone before we reach Venetry, because the way I feel, I’m not sure I could bend my will to anything more strenuous than drinking a cup of hot tea. Not that
Just had a messenger from Mattiak. People coming down the road from the NORTH, carrying red and black flags. Castavirans. I’m to go interpret. My heart is pounding so hard, but I had to write this in case the worst happens—hah. Like this record is going to matter if we’re overrun by the army. But that doesn’t sound like an attack. Could be anything. Going now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
24 Seresstine, very early
It’s been a long, busy day, and I still feel achy and stuffed-up, but I woke up about twenty minutes ago—some noise or other outside the tent—and couldn’t fall back asleep. So I decided I might as well write, since I haven’t had any time for that since I jotted down my last entry. I can’t believe it was only about fifteen hours ago I put my book away and ran to the command tent (this was a guess, the messenger hadn’t actually said where I was to go) which I reached in time to meet Mattiak approaching it. “Who are they?” I said, which of all the questions bubbling up inside me made the least sense.
“They stopped about half a mile from us and set up a tent,” Mattiak said, answering the question I would have asked if my head hadn’t been aching with my cold. “Battle mages. Five of them, carried by moving shells, or cups—our sentries were too shaken by their appearance to be very coherent—and a couple of what we think are ordinary soldiers. I don’t suppose you know what a red diamond on a black background means?”
“I don’t,” I said, “but that sounds as if they want to talk. As if they want to seem non-threatening.”
“That is what we are going to discuss,” he said, and held the tent flap open for me. Generals Kalanik and Drussik were already there, and three or four majors, and all their aides, and in general it was so full of Balaenic military masculinity I felt stifled. I found a seat off to one side and watched Mattiak pace, bringing all the other quiet conversations to a halt. When the only sound in the tent was that of his boots striking the cold ground, he said, “Your thoughts, gentlemen?”
“They’re trying to draw us out,” Drussik said. “Those things they came in on are unnatural. Who knows what other magics they might be able to turn against us?”
“I want to know how they discovered us,” said a major whose name I didn’t remember.
“That was always a risk,” Mattiak said. “All they needed was to send scouts in the right direction. I think if they had magic to locate us, they’d have come after us through the forest.”
“I don’t see that we have much choice now,” Major Melekst said. “They won’t let us pass. We’ll have to make our attack here.”
“And be overwhelmed by their superior numbers?” General Kalanik sounded angrier than I’d ever heard him before. “Think sense, man! We have to meet with them if only to give ourselves time to repulse their attack.”
“But it has to be a trick,” Drussik said. “Why wouldn’t they approach and ask for a proper parley? It’s all a ruse. They want to remove our leadership and weaken us. Trust me, Tarallan, if you go to this meeting, you’ll be going to your death.”
“They’d be going to a hell of a lot of trouble just to engineer one man’s death,” Melekst said. “And I mean no offense by this, Commander General, but as important as you are, the Army won’t come to a shuddering halt if you’re not here to direct it.”
“I’m not offended, and you’re right, Major,” Mattiak said. “So if that’s what they have in mind, throwing us into disarray by killing me, their leaders aren’t very intelligent.”
Something Drussik had said finally made it all the way to a part of my brain that could understand it. “If they don’t speak our language, they couldn’t ask for a parley, could they?” I exclaimed, cutting across Mattiak’s next words.
“That’s why it’s a trick,” Drussik said. “They’re counting on us being curious enough to go out to meet them. And then they kill our envoys.”
“They outnumber us,” Kalanik said. “If they wanted us dead, they’d have just turned on us. No need for this elaborate game.”
“What if, in their culture, this is how they parley?” I said. My heart was beating faster. If they were willing to talk to us instead of attacking, they couldn’t be hell-bent on conquering Balaen, which meant whoever was in charge…actually, I couldn’t think of a way to complete that thought. I couldn’t assume someone I knew was in control of that army. “What if they haven’t sent anyone because they think it’s polite to allow us to decide the terms on which we meet them?”
“You sound as if you have some special knowledge, Sesskia,” Mattiak said, eyeing me narrowly.
“I don’t,” I said. “It’s just I can’t help thinking—”
“Your thinking has no military basis,” Drussik said, slapping his palm impatiently on his thigh. “You don’t even have a true command.”
“They carry flags we’ve never seen before,” I forged on, starting to feel desperate. “They’re well outside the range of their magic. And as General Kalanik said, they could have just marched on us—they discovered us before we knew they knew we were here, right?” (I was hoping, in writing this, to make it sound more coherent, but I’m still slightly ill. That’s my excuse, anyway.)
“That’s a nice fabric you’ve woven, but there’s no proof of it,” Drussik said. “I say we march on them and hope to take them by surprise. We have to prevent those battle mages from reporting back to their camp.”
“No!” I exclaimed, coming off my seat to stand in front of Drussik. He’s short and slender, with lots of white hair, and since he was standing already my movement put me eye to eye with him. “They’re here in good faith and you want to betray that?”
“Don’t try to involve me in your fantasy, girl, the rest of us have to live in the real world,” Drussik said.
I glanced at Mattiak. He was looking at me impassively. I had no idea why he wasn’t stepping in here, but that was just as well, because I didn’t feel like I could stop myself, even for him. I looked back at Drussik, who was scowling at me. “Then let’s talk about the real world,” I said. “There aren’t a lot of possibilities here. They clearly want us to come to them. Either they want us in a position where they can kill our leaders to throw us into confusion, or they want to talk, maybe to enter into an agreement, or maybe to present us with the terms of our surrender. Are you with me so far, General Drussik?”
Drussik’s eyes were glazed with incomprehension, but then I had been talking rather quickly, partly because of my aching head, but mostly becaus
e I felt restless at how long this stupid discussion was going. “The thing is,” I went on, “both those possibilities mean meeting the Castavirans is the best course of action.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Drussik said, regaining his composure. “Why would we walk into their trap?”
“Because it’s not a trap if you know about it,” I said. “You go to meet them, prepared for betrayal, and you can defend against their attack and maybe even gain the upper hand if it turns out that’s what they’re after. If it isn’t, then you can discuss whatever they do have in mind, and you both benefit. Even if they just want us to surrender, at least you’ve prevented unnecessary bloodshed. But I think they’re here to deal honorably with us.”
I turned to face Mattiak, and said, “I think I should come with you, though, in case I’m wrong and those battle mages turn on you. And to translate, of course.”
“But—” Drussik sputtered.
“Sesskia’s argument is compelling. We’ll leave in fifteen minutes,” Mattiak said. “Drussik, I leave the camp in your hands. Wyoth, Steless, you’ll come with me. Sesskia, choose another mage—one capable of tearing a battle mage apart, if you don’t mind? And meet us at the northern picket line.”
He left the tent before anyone else could start an argument. I think that’s why he’s the commander of the Army—he knows when to leave a room. I hurried after him. “Why did you make me do all the talking?” I said. “It’s your army. They’re your generals. I’m just the mage auxiliary leader who doesn’t even have a real title or uniform.”
“I didn’t expect you to do that,” he said in a low voice. “I was giving you a chance to tell them your secret, if that’s what you wanted to do. Now I’m wondering if I should put you in command of a division.”
“That’s not funny,” I said, but the image of me waving a riding crop and leading men into battle was pretty funny.
“I’m only half joking,” he said. We’d been walking all that time, and now we reached his tent and stopped. He didn’t look joking at all. “You think you know who these people are.”
I shook my head. “Maybe. But even if it is someone I know, he might not be an ally.”
Mattiak sighed. “Bring one of your best mages,” he said, and ducked into his tent.
I rounded up the mages and explained what was happening, then told Elleria to come with me before anyone could start arguing, and we put on our warmest gear—the sun might as well have been a yellow circle in a child’s painting for all the heat it gave off, and there was a wind that felt like knives against exposed skin. The coat I bought in Venetry is ugly, but warm, and when I pull the hood up all the way it hides my face. Not that I did that on purpose, but I’m sure it made for a great dramatic element later.
We were first to the picket lines, and I shaded my eyes and looked out across the plains, but with all the loose snow kicked up by the frigid wind, I couldn’t see our Castaviran friends. I was pondering the possibility of a see-far pouvra when the men arrived, and Mattiak said, “Neither of you know how to ride, do you?”
“You know we don’t,” I said.
He shrugged. “Wyoth, if you don’t mind?” he said, and Kalanik stepped forward and offered his hand to Elleria, lifting her into the saddle before she could do more than let out a tiny yelp of surprise. Then Mattiak extended his hand to me.
“I don’t—” I said, and then I was high above the ground, and Mattiak had mounted behind me. I had the same unnervingly unsafe feeling I’d had riding the God-Empress’s collenna—just far enough off the ground that falling would hurt. I reminded myself of the many times I’ve scaled walls and dropped from windows and done other things that would terrify anyone else, and clung to the horse’s mane even though I had a feeling that was the wrong thing to do. Sure enough, Mattiak’s hand came around to pry my fingers free of the hairs that clung to my gloves and guided me to clutch the saddle horn.
“It’s all right, I won’t let you fall off,” he said. He had a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, but I could tell he was grinning wickedly. He held the reins in one hand and put his other around my waist, but I was straddling the horse more securely now, and I no longer felt as if I were about to fall.
Even so, I didn’t tell him to let go of my waist, though I felt uncomfortable at his nearness. He didn’t make an issue of it, and I was eventually able to relax and enjoy—hah. I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy riding a horse. Maybe I’m wrong, and I’d like it if I were the one in control, but they’re big and they smell funny and I’m sure they can tell when their riders don’t appreciate them. If Mattiak hadn’t been there I think ours would have knocked me off and then laughed at me.
It was too cold for conversation, and that’s another reason not to like horses, you get so cold sitting up there exposed like that! But that’s not important. We rode in silence, and I used the time to go over possibilities:
1. Aselfos, or his pet general, was there, and my presence would make them inclined to make peace with our army.
2. Aselfos was there, but didn’t care that I was with the Balaenics and it would take forever for both our sides to learn to trust each other.
3. The army was controlled by someone I didn’t know who was reasonable and wanted an alliance. I didn’t know enough to even guess at what that might be.
4. They were there to demand our surrender.
What I couldn’t figure out is why the negotiating party was all mages. Why not a military presence? Unless the mages had military rank as well...it’s not as if I know anything about the Castaviran military. But Drussik’s whining aside, our party had a huge advantage in the form of Elleria and myself, since I was certain we could neutralize their mages before any of them had the time to bring out their boards. I hoped it wasn’t necessary.
The longer we rode, the more worries I came up with. I’d been acting on emotion when I argued this course of action, and if I had led Mattiak wrong…
By the time we reached the Castavirans’ camp, I was ready to leap down and flit back the other way. Not that I would have done it, but it would have relieved my tension. And I would have regretted it so much.
The Castavirans had set up a single large tent that looked exactly like a Balaenic military tent. I guess there are only so many ways you can build a tent and still have it be useful. It was white canvas instead of drab brown, and I’m sure someone intended it to be attractive, but the white showed every splotch of mud, so it just looked in need of a wash.
Four thick poles were driven deep into the ground in front of the tent, and tethered to them were the strangest collennas I’d ever seen. Not that I’ve seen that many of them. They were small versions of the God-Empress’s rose-colored collenna, maybe five feet around but lower to the ground, and shiny black like a beetle’s carapace. In fact, they did look like headless beetles. Their tethers were stretched out taut as if they were straining to break free. Mattiak helped me down and I went to look more closely at them. “Don’t do that,” he said.
“They aren’t dangerous,” I said, though I didn’t touch any of them, in case this kind of collenna responded to something other than th’an. No, there was the grooved faceplate, and the seat that looked like it could fit two people if they didn’t mind being squeezed together, and the brushes and pots of silver ink. I wondered what all those unemployed collenna masters were going to do with their lives now.
Mattiak took my shoulder. “Everyone’s here,” he said. Kalanik was helping Elleria down. The other general was tethering the horses to a rail the Castavirans seemed to have put there for just that purpose. Two women in Castaviran military uniforms, or at least military trousers and boots (their jackets were concealed by their heavy coats) stood at attention near the tent door. Mattiak made a few gestures that made his men fall into a formation that looked intentionally lopsided. Elleria and I trailed along at the rear, not being privy to Balaenic military code, though as we weren’t Balaenic military I guess that didn’t matter. As we approached, th
e soldiers drew the tent doors open, and we all filed through.
It was blessedly warm inside. I’d forgotten until that moment how wonderfully practical Castaviran magic could be. Th’an glowed on all the tent poles near the roof, and tangles of those lights I remembered from the Darssan looped around all the horizontal poles and down the corner uprights. It looked warm, and felt warm, and the throbbing in my head eased.
Mattiak and the other two men were like a wall in front of me, blocking my view of the Castavirans. I was taking a few steps to the right to be able to see around them when I heard Mattiak say, “I am General Mattiak Tarallan, Commander General of the Balaenic Army—oh.” He took my arm and drew me forward, saying, “You’ll need to translate.”
And I came around to where I could see everything in time to hear Cederic say, in unexpectedly drawling Balaenic, “My name is Cederic Aleynten, and I speak for the Castaviran Empire. Thank you for accepting our offer of parley.”
My knees buckled from utter surprise, and I grabbed Mattiak’s coat and clung to it to keep from falling over entirely. That made him lurch, and since everyone was looking at him, everyone transferred those looks to me, Cederic with a polite non-interest that was like a punch to the stomach until I remembered he couldn’t possibly see past the fur of my hood.
Mattiak took hold of my elbow and helped me stand. “You speak our language,” he said, and then his hand on my elbow gripped more tightly as the name registered.
“Cederic Aleynten,” he said, rolling the words around on his tongue. “I think we have already found common ground.” He transferred his hand from my elbow to the small of my back and gave me a push in Cederic’s direction.
I turned to look over my shoulder at Mattiak, still feeling stunned. He had a strange look on his face I’ve only just now realized was regret. I think he really did believe Cederic was dead, or wasn’t coming for me, and it was only a matter of time before I fell in love with him. That makes me so sad. I hope he finds the happiness he deserves.
The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2) Page 29