We also have the things we learned from the Codex Tiurindi:
4. Pre-“divergence” magic was something like th’an expressed through will rather than through writing. Which suggests some combination of Castaviran and Balaenic magic, even though we’re sure it’s not as simple as that.
5. The divergence kathana worked by temporarily suppressing magic, and it ended up (either on purpose or by accident) spread so thin it couldn’t be used, which led us to:
6. Magic, whatever structure it has, has to have a certain level of concentration to be usable.
I have no idea what to make of all of that, but we have a lot of time in which to investigate the possibilities. We all felt exhausted when it was time to make camp. I never thought of intellectual discussion as exhausting, but it is. I told all of this to Cederic after our wild lovemaking—it’s amazing how much cleverer I feel when I’m snuggled up with him—and he said, “You might also consider the matter of residual magic, though that is not an accurate description.”
“That was in the madman’s book, the one that had the concealment pouvra, right?” I said. “You said it was more like pre-existing magic.”
“As far as anyone knows,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about it, as I never had leisure to research it. It hints at the possibility of th’an drawing on a source of magic we are not aware of because they are so efficient at shaping magic. But it might be worth your mages looking into.”
“That sounds so strange, ‘my’ mages,” I said.
He put his arms around me and pulled me close. “They look to you because you see things as no one else does,” he said, “possibility and reality. And because you have no interest in using your position for self-aggrandizement—it never even occurs to you, and I think others can see that.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I said. “Honestly, I can’t see why anyone would go out of their way to take on that responsibility. I feel the burden and I’ve got fewer than a hundred people looking to me for guidance. I don’t know how you do it, Emperor Cederic.”
“I have a beautiful, intelligent, extraordinary Empress-Consort,” he said, sliding his hand under my sleep shirt, “and I depend on her utterly.”
“You should warn her you also have a jealous wife,” I said, and kissed him the way any self-respecting jealous wife would.
He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep in our bed. Not that I spend a lot of time watching him sleep, which would be boring, but he looks different, as if he’s laid down whatever weight he has to shoulder when he’s awake. Although I love him all the time, I feel so tender toward him when he allows himself to be vulnerable with me. It’s times like this I truly understand the Castaviran marriage promise; that kind of trust is like a gift.
19 Hantar
More riding in the wagon, more discussion, less fruitful this time. Still, it’s bringing us together as a unit, which is important.
24 Hantar
There hasn’t been anything to record, so I decided not to waste pages on saying “nothing to report.” I wouldn’t even have written now except I wanted to remind my future self why there’s so big a gap in the record.
26 Hantar
Another wedding, Audryn and Terrael this time. I know I wrote I remembered very little of the ceremony from my own wedding, but I remembered enough to note certain key differences, namely that their unborn child was explicitly made part of the union. Audryn said afterward, when I asked her, a couple who are already expecting a baby when they make their marriage vows like to recognize the child as part of the family they’re creating, make it feel welcome even though it wasn’t conceived after the vow like Castavirans are expected to do.
For some Castavirans, it’s become a superstition that has all these horror stories attached to it, which is the other reason Audryn didn’t tell anyone about being pregnant until after Terrael came out of his depression—she didn’t want to deal with people criticizing her or warning her about what might happen to her baby because she’d flouted tradition. I think it’s horrible that anyone might tell an expectant mother her child would be born unlucky, or deformed, or mentally deficient, just because of when it was conceived, but Audryn told me nobody takes those people seriously. Even so, it was a burden she didn’t need.
It was a beautiful ceremony, much quieter than mine, but with all our friends attending, and they both looked so happy it made me cry and Cederic teased me about it. He really is less formal than he used to be, even in public, though I’m sure he still feels the pressure of maintaining the dignity of the Emperor’s office. He hasn’t said anything to me about maintaining the dignity of the Empress-Consort’s office, and I haven’t asked, for fear he’ll tell me I have to stop making jokes in public. I’m sure if there were anything inappropriate in my behavior, he’d tell me.
No study today thanks to the wedding. We all needed a break anyway. Theory is good, but we need some way to experiment, and no one’s figured out how to test our theories using actual magic. A rest day is probably what we need. (Though Terrael may be incapable of not thinking about the problem, since it’s not as if he can turn off his brain. Hopefully Audryn knows how to keep him distracted, and by distracted I mean lots of legally sanctioned sex.)
27 Hantar
A big storm blew in about ten o’clock this morning, and we had to make camp and huddle in. We (the mages) discussed for most of the morning and eventually decided we will focus our efforts on discovering what’s keeping the magic from fully combining, though that broke down into an intellectual argument (i.e. we weren’t fighting, just passionately defending our own sides) about whether we’re looking for a literal thing, or trying to identify the conditions that have to change. I finally sent everyone to their own tents to think about the points we’d all made, and we’ll make a decision tomorrow.
Cederic and I spent most of the afternoon together in our own tent, talking as if we were any other married couple. We told each other stories of our childhood, him more than me, which makes sense because half the stories of my childhood aren’t the kind you want to remember. He grew up in the north, in a town west of where Durran is in my world, and was a perfectly ordinary boy until he entered school and turned out to have a prodigious memory and a thirst for magical knowledge. I told him, “I can just picture you as a skinny little boy with big eyes, using long words at all your teachers.”
“I was actually a very quiet student,” he said, “because everything I was taught came so easily, and seemed so obvious. I thought there must be something wrong with me that I did not struggle as my classmates did. I realize that sounds arrogant, but in truth I felt awkward for many years.”
“That I can’t imagine,” I said. “What changed?”
“I came to realize I had a gift I could share with others,” he said. “And I was fortunate to have teachers who realized why I was so quiet in group lessons and so forthright and confident in my individual tutoring sessions. They encouraged me to take extra study in magical theory and put me on the path that led me to the Darssan, and then to the Kilios rank. Eventually I felt comfortable enough I could make friends, like Denril—”
He stopped, and rubbed his forehead as if it ached. “I still cannot understand how our friendship turned so sour,” he said. “I respected his understanding of magic and his passion for the priesthood. I never thought he resented me at all.”
I left my chair to sit in his lap and put my arms around his neck. The chair creaked alarmingly, but didn’t collapse. “You had what he wanted,” I said. “Fame and recognition. And then it wasn’t enough that he had the most high priesthood—he wanted you to have nothing, or his accomplishment wasn’t enough. Some people are like that.”
“You are very wise,” he said, putting his arms around me. “And beautiful. And you fit so nicely into my arms. I think we may have been destined for one another.”
“I don’t know that I believe in destiny,” I said, “because how sad if you’re meant for just one oth
er person in the world and you never meet her?”
He nuzzled my neck. “But I did,” he said in my ear, “and every day I hope I am becoming more perfectly someone you will want to spend the rest of your life with.”
“I feel the same,” I said. Then we moved on to the kind of conversation that doesn’t need words.
Chapter Seven
28 Hantar
Surprisingly, the mages came to the unanimous decision that the problem is conditions aren’t right for magic to come fully together, and we need to work out how to make that change. This is based on the idea that the divergence kathana was meant to alter the conditions under which magic could be worked, and the convergence might not have altered them back properly. Personally, I’m not convinced, but we have to start somewhere, and even if we take this approach and find out it’s dead wrong, we’ll have proved something.
We know those long-dead mages wanted to make it so you didn’t have to be a green-eyed mage to work magic, and that condition’s obviously not in force anymore. But there might be other conditions still in effect, namely the fact that th’an and pouvrin still exist; they couldn’t possibly still be separate if the magic were combined. So we’re going to start by analyzing both to see if they’re different in some fundamental way, because that might be a hint to what conditions need to change. We hope. As I wrote, it’s something.
29 Hantar
Research turned into substituting th’an for pouvrin and vice versa. Maybe this isn’t the combined magic we’re aiming for, but it certainly seems as if they’re different versions of the same thing.
30 Hantar
Nothing new to report. I had to stop the mages from playing around with interchangeable magic this morning and focus on the real task. Time for a new approach.
2 Jennitar
Another big storm. We’re only three days out from Barrekel at this point. I sat in on the strategy meeting this afternoon, though I didn’t have anything to contribute, I just thought I should understand what we intend to do when we reach the city. Mattiak’s plan is to send an envoy ahead of us, announcing Cederic and requesting an audience with Arron Domenessar.
(I forgot. I did have something to contribute; I asked if it didn’t send the wrong message that we were making a request, and Mattiak said “We’ve got three divisions of the Balaenic Army behind us. He’ll know it’s not really a request.”)
Then we will have a royal processional into the city and to Dessani Manor, the seat of government in Barrekel, and we’ll sit down with Domenessar and make our case.
“Can you call out the troops if Domenessar refuses?” Cederic said.
“Possibly,” Mattiak said. “If I ordered them out in my own name, I’d be charged with treason, but since I’m already a traitor—” he grinned—“I don’t have anything to worry about in that quarter. However, Domenessar is the ultimate commander of the Black and Brown Armies, as the King’s representative, and Roebart and Soessen may not want to go against him. And I’m not going to do anything that will pit our armies against each other. We should be prepared for the possibility we will leave Barrekel with no promise of troops in the spring.”
“Without the Barrekellian troops, we’re in a bad position,” Drussik said.
“Nothing we can do about that,” Mattiak said, “except be as convincing as possible. I think, if we can show him Balaen won’t be subjugated by Castavir, and if we can promise his title isn’t in danger, Domenessar will back us.”
“I cannot promise he will remain Lord Governor,” Cederic said, “as I have no idea whether our new government will have such a position. However, from your reports I believe him to be a capable administrator, and I intend to keep all such men and women in power, if only to minimize the pain of transition. So I can guarantee him something.”
“I thought we were going to use her Majesty’s nationality to sway him,” Bronnok said.
“We will,” Mattiak said, nodding at me. “A Balaenic co-regnant with a Castaviran can’t help but make Balaenics feel more comfortable.”
“But will they be offended that I’m Empress-Consort and not Empress?” I said.
“The Empress-Consort has power in the government,” Cederic said. “The Consort may ratify laws, hold hearings, pass judgment in court and declare sentencing, speak in Council, and make political appointments in the Emperor’s name. In some situations, the Emperor and Empress-Consort are expected to counsel together to make a decision. The Emperor has the final say, but he cannot effectively rule without the support of a strong Consort.”
“I hope he’ll understand that,” I said.
“We will make certain he does,” Cederic said.
I’m still not sure I’m fully qualified for this role. I don’t know much about passing laws or sentencing criminals. But Cederic is so completely confident in my abilities I’ve resolved to prove him right. I hope it will be a while before I have to act as Empress-Consort, because I think I have a lot of reading to do.
Reading. I’m going to make Terrael teach me to read Castaviran. We can’t spend all day studying magic, and I’m tired of feeling illiterate (because I am, in Castaviran anyway).
3 Jennitar
Castaviran alphabet very finicky for such a simple, straightforward language. Naturally I’ve been spelling everyone’s names wrong, and I’m going to continue to do so, since we use a different alphabet and the words have to be transliterated anyway.
Also: horse riding lessons for when we go into Barrekel. Three soldiers, plus Nessan, who I think was there for the entertainment. I guess it was a little funny, those poor men trying to help me remember which side of the horse to mount on (there’s a right side?) and how to hold the reins. All of them were no doubt in terror every time the beast sidled away from them with me on it, envisioning what might happen to them if they let the Empress-Consort get trampled or kicked or mauled or whatever the beast might decide to do. They told me she was the most docile mare they had, and assured me she would not try to toss me off, but I saw how the beast looked at me and I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for her moment.
5 Jennitar
Despite the fact that I’ve turned a th’an into a pouvra, we still can’t repeat the trick. (Well, it’s the binding pouvra, and it doesn’t seem to do anything, so maybe I’m wrong that I succeeded at it.) I’m almost grateful we’ll be in Barrekel tomorrow morning, because we’re getting cranky and upset with each other’s failings and I want everyone to leave it alone for a couple of days.
More horse riding. I was allowed to ride by myself today, with none of my helpers leading the beast. I tried not to feel too cocky about my accomplishment. That’s what the beast wants. I think her name is Clover, or Pansy, or something botanical. She has them all fooled.
6 Jennitar
Positive things that came of meeting with Arron Domenessar:
1. We didn’t leave at a run, pursued by his guards.
2.
I can’t think of anything else. I was prepared, as I always am, for the worst to happen. It just turns out I didn’t know what that was.
We reached Barrekel last night, or its outskirts anyway, and made camp on the far side of the city from the military outpost “just in case” as Mattiak said. That should have been my first warning things would not go well. Mattiak is close enough to the commanders of the Black and Brown Armies that he uses their praenomi, but he didn’t want to put us in a position where we might look like aggressors.
I asked him if he was going to meet with them that night, and he said, “I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to suborn them by meeting with them before we’ve talked to Domenessar. As far as they’re concerned, we’re still loyal Balaenic soldiers, and at worst they’re going to wonder why we’re this far east. I’ve sent messengers to let them know I’ll drop by tomorrow.”
“Tell me the truth. Will they follow you if Domenessar forbids it?” I said.
He sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It will depend on whether I
can convince them where their loyalties should lie. Asking them to betray their King, even a weak and foolish King, to follow a foreigner may be too much.”
“But we need those troops, don’t we,” I said.
“Do you want a comforting lie, Sesskia?” he said.
“You know I never do,” I said.
“Then yes, we need those troops,” Mattiak said. “At our current troop strength the Castaviran forces outnumber us three to one. King Dugan seems confident he will be able to join the Helvirite forces to ours, which narrows that gap to just over two to one. Not only do we need Black and Brown, we need them not to fall into the former Empress’s hands.” He took a deep breath and let it out explosively. “You might want to direct a few prayers toward the true God and hope for the best tomorrow.”
So I did. I don’t know if the true God wasn’t listening, or if I’m not good at prayers, or if this is all part of some elaborate divine scheme, but—I’m getting ahead of myself again. I’d like to leave it at this, because I hate remembering, but I swore I’d make this as accurate as I could. So here it is.
We sent off the envoy first thing in the morning, a handful of soldiers and Terrael and two other mages (side note: Audryn told me she gets so anxious when Terrael goes off on these assignments for Cederic she has to go to their tent and lie curled up in a ball until she stops shaking and reliving memories of how he looked when I brought him back to camp. I don’t blame her. Even though I’m fairly confident Domenessar isn’t going to order him tortured, I can imagine how it feels watching him ride away) bearing the double flag and sealed messages in addition to the proclamation Terrael will read publicly.
Everyone in my group of researchers was too keyed up to study anything, not to mention we depend on Terrael to guide our experiments and take notes on what we discover. So I grabbed Audryn and Sovrin and had them help me dress up in my Imperial robes.
I think I wrote they came from a museum in Colosse and are about a hundred years old, but they look as if they’re brand new thanks to a kathana that preserves them. Fortunately no Balaenic is going to realize how out of date our clothes are, not the way they would if I came to Dessani Manor wearing one of those high-waisted, full-skirted gowns in printed cotton and my hair wrapped around a paper cone to make it stand straight up and fountain out from the tip. Some fashions were meant to go out of style.
The Unconquered Mage Page 8
