The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  “I promise,” I said, because his tone of voice frightened me, and if he thought Vorantor would make me want to argue, then something serious was happening.

  We stood together and waited for a few minutes. Everyone was still, almost unmoving. I noticed Cederic clenching his hand into a fist and then forcing it to relax, clench/relax, at least a dozen times before a door on the third level, high above, opened with a loud clang, and a few dozen people emerged and came down the ramps to meet us.

  (This is another thing I haven’t mentioned. About half the living quarters are on the second level, and all the facilities and the other half of the living quarters are on the first, and the third is entirely unoccupied. The population of the Darssan used to be much bigger.)

  They walked single-file, even though the ramps are broad enough for three people to walk side-by-side comfortably, and I was certain, looking at the procession, that they were doing it to look more impressive. Though that could just be my impression in hindsight, knowing more of Vorantor now.

  Cederic watched them impassively, his hand now relaxed—or maybe it was only open rather than clenched, because I could tell by the way his jaw was tight that he was in no way relaxed about any of this.

  Eventually the procession came to the bottom of the ramps and the man at the head of the line approached us, while the rest of the men and women following him bunched up behind him. The man held out his hands to Cederic, who clasped them by crossing his arms so right hand took right hand and so forth. “Thank you for the invitation,” the man said.

  “We are always happy to welcome you and our other friends to the Darssan, Denril,” Cederic said.

  “I am glad to hear it,” Vorantor said, and then he looked at me, and I didn’t like it. He had the smile of a shark, a toothy, humorless smile. He had a receding hairline, which made him look older than I suspected he was (early thirties, the same as Cederic), and wore his black hair pulled back the way all the mages of the Darssan did—all the newcomers wore their hair this way—but he and his friends wore richly colored and heavily embroidered robes that fell past their knees, tied with metallic-looking gold ropes that ended in tassels as thick as my wrist, over pale gray trousers almost the color of my own.

  Vorantor also wore an earring made of a square-cut ruby that could feed a family of ten in Thalessa for a month, and that made me dislike him more. I don’t know if the earring means something, or if he’s just showing off how important he is, but I’ve stolen much better than that from the noble and wealthy of Balaen, and if he thinks it’s something that will impress me, he is utterly wrong. Not that I imagine he worries much about impressing me; no doubt he cares more about what the God-Empress thinks. I suppose I’ll find that out soon.

  Anyway, he looked at me, and he said, “And you are Thalessi, our visitor from the shadow world,” and that surprised me, because it had to be Cederic who told him about me, and I didn’t know he understood how personal praenomi are to Balaenics or that he wasn’t allowed to give my praenoma to a stranger on my behalf. It made me realize for the first time that we really are friends, and that’s so strange, given that I once thought that was impossible.

  Even with the buffer of my placename between us, I was uncomfortable having his attention on me, so I just nodded and said, “I am.”

  I wasn’t sure at the time why he made me so uncomfortable, other than his resemblance to a shark, but now I have time to think, I feel as if I’ve been protected in the Darssan. Vorantor’s arrival, even though I didn’t know then that there was something sinister about it, disrupted that protective little world. I’d managed to convince myself I could stay there indefinitely, even managed to pretend the world’s fate wasn’t in the balance because I finally had friends and a place where I didn’t have to conceal my magic, and that was stupid.

  And speaking of the shadow world, I finally understand why they call it that. The loenerel is still traveling through miles and miles of wasteland, but every now and then we pass things that are, well, shadows. Barns or houses you can see through, or people walking around doing things that would make sense if you could see the world they were actually interacting with.

  Once we drove entirely through some kind of gathering hall and we could see its interior, complete with people dancing. The shadows don’t persist—sometimes we see them in the far distance, and they fade in and then out again—but they do appear frequently, and Sovrin said that although they never saw them in the Darssan (no idea why not) they knew from the news they got from outside that the shadows were showing up more often and staying for longer than they used to. Just more evidence of the approaching disaster. This also reminds me I didn’t ask her how they get news from outside, if the Darssan is so isolated. Not that it matters anymore.

  Audryn just stopped by to see if I’m still alive. I hid the book before she entered. It’s not that I don’t trust her, because I do, but the fewer people who know I have this, the less likely one of them will reveal its existence to Vorantor, even though I’m sure they wouldn’t mean to. But I’m taking this as a sign I need to turn out the light and try to sleep. I can’t believe I’m actually looking forward to arriving in Colosse. I can’t believe I ever had the innocence to write that the God-Empress was never going to have anything to do with my life. More tomorrow.

  3 Lennitay

  I’m no longer faking illness. Cederic took one look at me when I came to breakfast and ordered me back to my room. Then he brought me food himself. This was to give him an excuse to speak to me privately, to make sure there wasn’t anything more wrong with me than (as we determined) motion sickness. He offered to send Vorantor to me, as he knows some healing magic, but I declined, and he didn’t push. I know Terrael and Audryn said they were still friends, but from what I overheard between them, it’s a friendship on the brink of falling apart.

  Right. I haven’t reached that point yet. Vorantor didn’t say anything more to me, and Cederic said a few things that sounded like hospitality ritual, and then Vorantor said something like “don’t let us keep you from your work” and everyone broke into their groups and went back to their research.

  Hahahaha.

  What really happened was that everyone broke into groups and pretended to work, because Vorantor’s people spread out and started “helping” by making corrections to their th’an or offering suggestions about which book to refer to. I followed Cederic to our table, since I had nothing else to do, and Vorantor came with us. More accurately, he strode a few steps ahead of us, as if he were leading the way, and that annoyed me. I know he was Wrelan here before Cederic, but he has no right to act as if he’s still in charge. Cederic didn’t seem to mind.

  When we got to the circle, Cederic showed Vorantor the books we’ve been translating, starting with the Eddon book. They had a technical discussion I probably could have followed, since it was about everything Cederic and I have been working on with regard to pouvrin and th’an, but I was too busy worrying about why Vorantor was even here.

  I was certain it was all due to me, even though he was putting on a good show of being interested in our research, and I was right, which makes me furious as I’m writing this. Vorantor wanted me for his own purposes, and it makes me even angrier to remember how they were talking as if they were collaborators instead of Vorantor waiting for the right moment to reveal the truth.

  I despise him because he thinks of me as a prize, as a thing, and I swore no one would ever use me like that. But there isn’t much I can do about it now. Maybe when we reach Colosse, Cederic will think of something, or the God-Empress will change everyone’s plans.

  They talked for several minutes, and I ended up flipping the pages of a book I couldn’t read, looking at the pictures. I’m probably just as happy I can’t read that one, because based on the illustrations, it’s a sex manual, and what it’s doing with the rest of these books is a mystery. Then Vorantor said, “Thalessi,” and that brought my attention away from the picture of three people tangled together
. “I would love to see your magic, if you don’t mind,” he said.

  “Of course,” I said, and did the fire-summoning pouvra almost in his face. I regretted it before the fire died away, and cursed myself for letting my annoyance override my good sense. I’m sure making myself seem dangerous was a wonderful choice that made Vorantor decide I had nothing to offer him and leave me alone. Fortunately, Vorantor didn’t seem angry or frightened, and he didn’t flinch. He might smile more, but he seems every bit as self-controlled as Cederic.

  “Fascinating,” he said. “Will you show me the others?”

  I looked past him at Cederic, hoping he could give me guidance, but his face was completely expressionless, as always. And then I saw his hand was open, his fingers spread, and he flexed his fingers a few times. Five. But I know seven pouvrin, counting the walk-through-walls one I don’t use—and then I realized what he was telling me, as clearly as if there were a mind-speaking pouvra we both had access to.

  I said, “Yes, but I won’t be able to show you how I can see in the dark,” and I summoned water, then caught it and turned it into a sphere and flew it around for a bit (even in my nervousness, it was hard not to make it hit the back of Terrael’s head, just for fun) and I had Vorantor go behind one of the bookshelves and hold up so many fingers, and I looked through it to tell him how many.

  Cederic, standing with his back to Vorantor during this test, gave me another meaningful look, this one of thanks. He may trust Vorantor more than I do, but I saw he thought we might need the advantage of him not knowing about the walk-through-walls and concealment pouvrin, and he was right. I didn’t realize he could be as paranoid as I am. It’s funny how we have far more in common than I believed in the beginning.

  Vorantor was impressed, and not in a child-doing-tricks way. He asked a lot of questions about pouvrin, how to learn them and what it feels like to use them, and were there any similarities between pouvrin and th’an. I told him what we’d learned, and I didn’t hold anything back, in case Cederic had already told him things. I think it may be another advantage for him to believe I’m cooperating, so I hope he couldn’t tell I was furious about being forced to go to Colosse, and in that way.

  And I have to admit Vorantor is easily as intelligent as Cederic, because he grasped the implications of our work immediately. On the other hand, he said nothing about the Codex Tiurindi, nothing about the worlds coming together, and at the time I assumed it was because they both knew what needed to be done and talking about it was irrelevant. I was wrong.

  Eventually, their discussion wound down, and Vorantor said, “I would like to speak with you privately, Cederic. We have so much to catch up on.”

  Cederic nodded, turned to me, and said, “Thank you for your help, Sesskia.” Then he and Vorantor walked away toward the corridor, leaving me gaping for a moment at the abruptness of his farewell. It took me less than a second to decide I had to hear whatever they were about to say to each other.

  Yes, I know I’d told Cederic I wouldn’t use the pouvra like a thief, and I felt slightly guilty about using it on him, but I was tired of everyone but me knowing what his relationship with Vorantor really was. And he had told me to keep them a secret from Vorantor, which is close to giving me permission to eavesdrop.

  I used to be better at justifications.

  And I got what eavesdroppers are proverbially supposed to get, which is, nothing good. I don’t regret it. Cederic would have told me the details later, but hearing Vorantor’s words from his own mouth—I’m glad I know what kind of man he actually is. I

  Dinnertime. I’m surprised Cederic is always the one who comes for me. I think he knows I’m writing and is trying to keep anyone from finding out about this book. I think writing while the loenerel is moving is making me queasier, but there’s no way I’m going to delay any longer. It’s supposed to take fewer than three days to reach Colosse, and I’m determined to have caught up before then, because who knows what might happen?

  Chapter Ten

  3 Lennitay, after dinner

  So. Eavesdropping. I followed Cederic and Vorantor, keeping behind groups of mages and acting as if I were interested in their discussions. When Cederic and Vorantor left the cavern, I lagged behind them as they moved along the corridor until they were out of sight, but not out of hearing—fortunately they weren’t wearing those sandals. I stayed close enough to know which one of the sitting rooms they entered, which was the one Cederic and I had used when I read to him, and then they shut the door and I stood alone in the corridor, trying not to panic.

  I wrote that I’ve only used the walk-through-walls pouvra once. It’s frightening. It makes you mostly insubstantial, which means it’s impossible to breathe, and alters whatever you walk through to be insubstantial too. But you can still feel, and it feels as if you’ve been turned to liquid, and you’re flowing through the cold stream that is the other object, and if you don’t concentrate, you’ll be swept away and mingled with it.

  But I also feel if I try to pull away from the other stream, I could go too far the other way and become solid in the middle of whatever I’m moving through, which would make it become solid too, and that sounds like one of the more gruesome deaths I can imagine. But I was sure whatever Cederic and Vorantor were about to discuss was important to me and not just to them.

  So I took a few deep breaths, did the concealment pouvra (because coming through the wall completely visible would ruin everything), prayed the walk-through-walls pouvra wouldn’t negate the concealment, and went straight at the wall before I could think too hard about it.

  I felt that moment of transition, that sensation of being fluid and the horrible feeling of having all my organs exposed to the wall’s near-immaterial substance, and then I was through and standing next to the door. Cederic and Vorantor were seated across from each other, and Cederic was using a th’an to pour water for them. The pitcher was steady and he spilled not a drop, which made me proud and a little smug on his behalf, because I’d bet Vorantor couldn’t do as much. He can’t write th’an on air, either.

  They were chatting, mostly small talk about people they both knew and I didn’t. I paid close attention to this conversation, so I could record it more accurately later, but I didn’t bother remembering that part. I leaned back against the wall and prepared to wait for a while, but a few seconds later, Cederic said, “I hope you are convinced by this, Denril.”

  Vorantor sipped his water, put the glass down, and said, “I was about to ask the same of you.”

  “Sesskia’s arrival nearly brought down the Darssan around our heads,” Cederic said, which was news to me. No one ever talked about the day I came here, and while Cederic had said the kathana was dangerous, I had no idea just how dangerous that was. “Imagine the devastation if the transfer had not been confined to a single individual.”

  “You know I have never downplayed the extent of the coming catastrophe,” Vorantor said. “I know very well how bad it will be. Which is why we have been working so hard to find ways to minimize it.”

  “It will be impossible to protect everyone, Denril,” Cederic said, in a voice that implied they’d had this conversation a dozen times before. “We have to prevent it happening entirely.”

  “If you would allow yourself to think rationally—” Vorantor began.

  “Do not accuse me of irrationality,” Cederic said, sounding so intense that Vorantor flinched back. “We worked side by side for years. I disagree about the results of our research. That hardly makes me irrational. You are the one who sits there and counts casualties and talks about acceptable losses instead of working with me to prevent the coming disaster!”

  “I apologize, Cederic, my words were poorly chosen,” Vorantor said, but I’m pretty sure he was lying. He wanted—still wants—Cederic to be off-balance in Colosse, so he can get him to do as he demands. “You are correct, we disagree, but time and again our research has indicated that complete prevention of the worlds’ coming back together is impossible
. Containment is the only solution.”

  “We are close to summoning the Codex Tiurindi,” Cederic said, calmer now, and he definitely surprised Vorantor. “And thanks to Sesskia’s input, we will be able to read it when we do.”

  “Astonishing,” Vorantor breathed. “You did not put that in your letter.”

  Cederic actually smiled. “I wanted to tell you to your face and see your reaction.”

  “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with my surprise and delight,” Vorantor said, laughing. It was a strange conversation. At times, they sounded like mortal enemies, and then they could joke and laugh together like old friends.

  “Entirely,” Cederic said. “Now, Denril. Please see sense. The Codex Tiurindi will show us how to keep the two worlds apart permanently. No future generation will have to struggle to prevent chaos the way we are right now. I want us to work together again. Please.”

  “I was unaware Cederic Aleynten knew how to make requests,” Vorantor joked, but it made Cederic recoil as if he’d been slapped. “You know the contents of the Codex are in large part a mystery. We don’t know what we will learn from it. The end is fast approaching, old friend. We no longer have time to entertain your…optimistic ambitions.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Cederic said.

  “I mean it is time for you to work with me,” Vorantor said. “You have failed to prove your theory is correct. I, on the other hand, have a great deal of proof on my side. The God-Empress sees the need for action, now, and has entrusted me to carry out her orders. I am to collect what you have learned and bring it back to Colosse for the Sais to study.”

  “Denril—” Cederic said. His voice was rising.

  “Don’t shout, Cederic, you know it doesn’t affect me,” Vorantor said. “You have a choice. Stay here in the Darssan, with your mages, and face destruction—you know this is too far from civilization for my kathana to protect you. Or come with me and have a part in saving the world.”