The Summoned Mage (Convergence Book 1)

by Melissa McShane

  “I see,” I said, and then couldn’t think of anything else to say. I tried not to imagine what punishment that might be.

  The collenna lurched to a halt. “My God, I am sorry—please accept—I will be more diligent—” the master babbled, turning around in her seat, and this time I could see the th’an. It was far more complex than the ones on the loenerel and the war wagon had been, and I was struck so hard by the feeling I ought to recognize it that I felt dizzy in addition to my fear for the collenna master’s life.

  But the God-Empress said nothing, still staring off into the distance, and soon the collenna moved on. I breathed more easily; I’d been afraid I was about to witness a punishment first-hand. I relaxed too soon, but that’s a different part of the story.

  The God-Empress seemed completely sane all morning. She lost her distant look after a while and pointed out landmarks, and I began enjoying myself. Colosse is almost as old as the disaster, and has grown up in much the same way as the palace, if less haphazardly; the palace has the disadvantage of being seen by its possessors as an outward representation of their divine power, and being frequently rebuilt accordingly. Colosse is just a big city that’s adapted to the needs and desires of its residents over the centuries.

  And it’s nothing like anything I’ve seen in my travels, but then I don’t think anything in my world is as old as Colosse. There are tall domed buildings where mages perform kathanas for those who can pay (and sometimes for those who can’t, depending on the mage) and buildings containing nothing but swimming pools and facilities for exercising, as if people don’t get enough exercise walking around and doing manual labor, but I suppose if you have magic readily available a lot of the manual labor is done for you.

  There are three buildings that look like that giant’s building blocks dropped out of the sky, completely unadorned, that the God-Empress said contain books, and if you pay money you can go in and look at any of them you want. I don’t know if I believe her. They’re bigger than the biggest libraries we have in Balaen—the size of even one of those buildings would be enough to contain thousands, tens of thousands, of books, and that there are three of them…!

  Though that was another thing I learned; buildings that perform a particular function all look alike. So the libraries look like rectangular blocks, and the mage buildings are all domed, and some of them are smaller than the others but they all have the same shapes. So there are almost no signs anywhere, even marking the streets. It’s expected you’ll know what services are offered based on the shape of the building.

  I don’t know if this is laid down by law, or if it’s tradition, and I couldn’t begin to guess. But since there are only so many types of building, even this otherworlder woman felt familiar with the city after only a short time. I saw a few shadowy people, but only three or four, and all of them were dressed and laden like travelers. I suppose if nothing occupies this space in my world, it makes sense that there wouldn’t be many things to be shadows in this one.

  Around noon, the collenna stopped in front of a single-story red-roofed building (honoring the virtue of Patience) that had arched doorways opening onto a central courtyard filled with little tables, which meant it was an eating place, and half the God-Empress’s soldiers went inside. We waited for about ten minutes before they returned, trailing an elderly man who didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

  The God-Empress stepped off the edge of the collenna’s seat exactly as if she expected to be caught, which of course she was, so I mimicked her and was conveyed to the ground with barely a wobble. The moment the God-Empress’s foot touched the pavement, the elderly man prostrated himself and said, “It is an unlooked for honor, my God, and I hope you will be satisfied with my humble offering.”

  The God-Empress walked past him without a word, and I followed her into the cool darkness beyond the courtyard. Here, there was only one table, an oblong thing about six feet long with chairs set at the far ends, and it’s only a slight exaggeration to say it was bowing under the weight of a feast that could have fed twenty.

  I realize now the man knew the God-Empress was coming that day, but my first thought was astonishment that he’d pulled the meal together so quickly. We sat, and her soldiers ranged themselves around us, and more people came out from what smelled like the kitchen and served us. I thought it all looked delicious and only realized I’d let myself become complacent when I was startled by the crash of a plate the God-Empress knocked out of the elderly man’s hand.

  “I will have red,” she said, “red is the color of the day, you will give me red,” and the elderly man looked as if he were going to faint. A younger woman stepped forward and offered the God-Empress a new plate, on which was a slice of beef cooked nearly raw and some slices of tender beets. I breathed more easily—even the plate was red. This was a clever woman.

  The God-Empress allowed her to place it before her, then delicately began cutting her meat and chewing with pleasure. I pointed at dishes randomly and was served by people who clearly had no idea what to make of me, but were grateful I didn’t make any outlandish demands. I was so worried on their behalf I don’t remember what I ate, except it tasted good. I do remember the final course, which was something sweet and creamy and cold topped with candied cherries, and I asked for seconds and nearly ate myself sick on it.

  Afterward, the collenna took us down to the Myrnala Coell River, which has sandy shores and reeds that move with the current, which is faster than the Myrnala’s. We dismounted again and the God-Empress walked toward the river, slowly, removing pieces of her clothing as she went until she was once again dressed only in her thin shift and her ruby choker. And she kept walking.

  She didn’t stop until she was waist-deep in the river, swaying in part because of the water’s movement and in part because she was caught up in some reverie. I stood watching her from the shore until she said, “You are ungrateful for the river’s gift.”

  “Oh!” I said. “I apologize, Renatha, I believed it was…something for God alone.” I struggled to remove my dress, hesitated about my underclothes, then decided to leave them and my jewelry on and waded out to meet her. And it felt wonderful, so cool in the afternoon heat, though I felt my shoulders begin to burn the way my nose already had. I mimicked her swaying and wondered what else I was supposed to intuit. She could probably have had those soldiers drown me. I wonder what would happen if I tried to use the walk-through-walls pouvra on water? Nothing good, probably.

  Anyway, we stood like that for several minutes. Boats floated past—it’s a big river—and in the distance I could hear children shouting. I’m glad the God-Empress didn’t take offense at other people using her river, because I don’t think I could have stood by quietly and let her hurt children. But she just stood there, swaying, and I stood there, uncomfortable but at least cool for once. Then she said, “Raise the river.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I said, and that was true both on a semantic level (because she’d used really archaic language that time) and on a comprehension level. She opened her eyes and looked at me, and I took a step back, because for the first time I saw true madness there.

  “Make the waters move,” she said. “I’m displeased with the river’s inability to understand my commands. It is the priest’s job to invoke power on God’s behalf. Make the waters move.”

  Now I was terrified. Not just because what she wanted was impossible for me, but because she thought I was a priest the way she did her other mages, and I had no idea what kind of behavior she expected. So I said, “Of course, Renatha, but I apologize if my…priestliness is different from what you know. My world is very different.”

  She kept staring with those mad eyes and said, “Do it, or I will give your body to the river.”

  I looked back and saw the soldiers approaching the banks. Of course she meant it. I shut out my awareness of the soldiers, and my fear for my life, and my uncertainty, and used the mind-moving pouvra on the water parting on either side of the God-E
mpress’s body. There was no way I could move the whole river, but I could do something dramatic that might satisfy her mad whim.

  I pushed the water where it met her body, shoving it back as if it were running up against something much larger than the God-Empress, and desperation gave the pouvra strength I know I’ll never be able to duplicate. The water piled high, cresting white at the top and making a wave that built until it towered over her like a gray-green canopy flecked with white.

  The higher it got, the harder it was for me to contain it, and the way it strained against my pouvra felt as if it were alive and desperate to drown the woman beneath it. I was tempted. Her death would be no loss. But I couldn’t guarantee it would kill her, and there was a part of me, the part that still can’t burn flesh, that cried out against taking even a life so cruel and terrible as hers.

  So I held onto the wave, and said, “The river knows you are God,” which I hoped didn’t sound terribly sycophantic, and waited for her to see what I’d done, then I released it harmlessly to flow away to both sides of her.

  She beamed at me, happy as a child. “Of course I am,” she said, and waded out of the river. She left all her clothes on the shore, so I did the same, and we got back into the collenna in our underclothing and continued our tour of the city. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life, nor so grateful that the Empress’s insanity dictated that no one pay attention to us. Oh, and incredibly grateful I was wearing the stupid breast band. I’ve decided never to be without one again.

  Nothing else exciting happened, and we returned to the gate we’d started from, and the God-Empress stepped off as lightly as she had before. I stumbled when I reached the ground, had to catch my balance, and was about to thank the God-Empress for her generosity in giving me her time when she said, “Kill the driver.”

  I whipped around just in time to see two of the soldiers lift the woman off her seat, and another take her head in his two massive hands and twist so rapidly the woman didn’t even have time to scream. The sound of her neck snapping was almost inaudible over the roar of the blood rushing through my temples.

  The soldiers dropped her, and the God-Empress came to stand next to the body and prod it with her big toe. “Tell the priests to train me another,” she said, and walked away, her damp shift still clinging to her perfect ass and thighs. Fortunately my body knew to ignore my shocked brain, and propelled me after her, because for all I knew I might have been next.

  “Don’t worry, I have many drivers,” the God-Empress said, and to my further shock drew my arm through hers and patted my hand. “I can see you dislike waste as much as I do. But she broke the rule and acknowledged me on a rose day, and God cannot be disrespected.”

  “I thought…it was the bad driving,” I managed.

  “What bad driving?” the God-Empress said.

  We reached her filmy red chamber, which was empty of servants, and she stripped off her shift and walked naked to a wardrobe in one corner, which she flung open, revealing richly embroidered robes in all shades of, that’s right, red, accented with gold and copper and silver. She took robe after robe from the wardrobe and tossed them on the floor behind her, held one for a few moments before wrenching at its back seam until it tore, then finally found something she liked. But she didn’t put it on; she held it out to me. “You must be rose, too,” she said, “for you are God’s chosen.”

  I did not like the sound of that, but I said, “Thank you, Renatha,” and wrapped it around myself. It was far too big for me, too big for the God-Empress even, but it was wonderfully opaque and fastened high enough in front that only a hint of my cleavage showed. She beamed again, childlike, but with a body that was definitely not that of a child. She found a robe for herself and then sat on the divan with her legs crossed under her.

  “I expect to see the kathana performed soon,” she said, and her voice and her features became sharp in a way they hadn’t been all day. “How soon, do you think?”

  “I, uh, wish I knew, Renatha,” I said, “For my part, I’m working as fast as I can, but focusing on my own work means I don’t know much about how the rest is progressing. But I know everyone is performing to their utmost abilities.” I prayed to the true God I hadn’t inadvertently said something that would condemn every mage to a sudden, neck-snapping death.

  “I see,” the God-Empress said. “Then I will allow more time. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. Talking to her is like maneuvering a maze of knives blindfolded, though that might be easier. At that point I wanted to run back to the Sais’ wing and tell Cederic we now have a deadline—though he and Vorantor probably already know this better than I do. I’ve resolved to be more diligent and to stop complaining at Terrael, now I understand what’s at stake.

  The God-Empress sat looking at me, and I belatedly realized I was dismissed. “Thank you again for the generous gift of your time and company, which I do not deserve,” I said, and backed out of there as rapidly as was polite and sensible. Then I ran. I only made one wrong turn before reaching the Sais’ wing, and the safety of my bedroom, and then I’m not too proud to confess that I ripped the robe off, stomped on it, then stood there in my underclothing and cried.

  That poor woman. All those people. Had the God-Empress decided the men and women at the eating place had paid her too much attention, and sent her soldiers back to burn it to the ground? It was so overwhelming, all the tension of worrying about whether I was going to say or do something wrong. Could I turn the pouvrin against someone in defense of my life? I hope the answer is “yes,” but I don’t want to only find that out when my life is in danger.

  After I finished crying, I dressed in comfortable clothing and wadded up the God-Empress’s robe and stuck it in the back of the wardrobe. Then I got it out and hung it up instead. She might expect me to wear it again.

  I don’t want to call her Renatha again. She may not have hurt me today, but I’m convinced she is my enemy, and for me to use her praenoma…it’s degrading to my true friendships to put my relationship with my enemy on the same standing. Even the thought of it makes me feel uncomfortable and sick at breaking that taboo, after all I’ve done to keep those customs.

  But I don’t have a choice, do I? The God-Empress might take lethal offense at my rejecting the gift of her name. And she might not direct that lethality at me. But as far as I’m concerned, ‘God-Empress’ is her aenemica now, her name turned curse, and I’ll think it every time I’m forced to say ‘Renatha’ instead.

  Well. I feel better now I’ve written all of this down, but I think I won’t go exploring tonight; I’m still on edge. And I’ve just realized I have more to tell Cederic about what’s happened, not only the part where it sounds as if the God-Empress is losing patience with her pet mage-priests; I have to tell him about feeling like I should recognize the th’an. And I have questions for him. And I’m starving because I forgot to go to dinner, I was too busy crying.

  At least all I have to look forward to tomorrow is failing to work th’an with fire. No, I can’t afford to think that way. If the kathana really only lacks my part to be ready, I have to redouble my efforts or I could cost many people, some of whom I care about very much, their lives.

  Chapter Sixteen

  15 Lennitay

  Before I can scribe my th’an with fire, I have to find a way to do the pouvra so the fire manifests as a trailing line, like ink flowing from a pen, rather than as a single mass all at once. I tried all day and failed every time.

  By midafternoon I was too exhausted to do it any longer, and Terrael made me sit in a corner and watch how other people create th’an, and it should have had a calming effect, but it only made me more tense, thinking that all their lives were at the mercy of a madwoman with command of thousands of armed warriors.

  I didn’t get a chance to talk to Cederic today; he was busy with some of the Sais doing I don’t know what. I’m not exploring tonight. Too jumpy—alertness, even a little
paranoia, those things are a thief’s friends, but too much anxiety leads to carelessness.

  16 Lennitay

  Dreamed about the soldier twisting that collenna master’s head until her neck snapped. Woke in the dark and couldn’t get the see-in-dark pouvra to work, then couldn’t sleep without seeing the dead woman’s face.

  Cederic once again unavailable. I should have pushed my way into the conversation, but I couldn’t bear the thought of looking like I go running to him for every little thing.

  Another day of failures. I asked Audryn if she knew of anything that would help me sleep, some th’an or other, and she brought me a sweet, oily-tasting drink. I only sipped a little of it and it’s making everything fuzzy. It should help.

  17 Lennitay, very early

  The drink gave me nightmares. Everyone in that eating place had the dead woman’s face, with the look of confusion she wore just before she died. Then they all fell down and shattered like the plate into ruby shards the God-Empress stitched into her clothing, except they became golden because it was a honey day—I have to remember this, I know it’s important and I can’t sleep again until I’ve written it all down—it was a honey day, and I had to dress in gold and perform a kathana by myself in worship of the God-Empress, and the kathana was to write all over Terrael’s body and

  I just threw up Audryn’s drink. I’m writing this huddled in bed. I don’t dare sleep again.

  18 Lennitay

  Well, I did sleep, eventually, and woke clutching this book against my chest, just in time to hide it under my pillow when the servant came to rouse me. She was aghast at the vomit, which did smell horrible, and brought in a couple of other servants to clean it up and bring me water and some soft, tasteless food—they think I’m ill. I didn’t correct that misapprehension.