The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2)

by Melissa McShane

  “It wasn’t much of a risk, Honored, the enemy has female as well as male soldiers,” I said.

  “Really?” said Crossar, more interested now than before, which made his needle-sharp attention even more acute. “What else did you see?”

  I’m embarrassed that my first reaction was to tell him nothing, so I wouldn’t betray Castavir. Then I felt stupid because, for one, it was the God-Empress’s army and even Castavir wanted her defeated, and for another, I was still a Balaenic citizen and wanted my people to have every advantage when it came to war.

  Then I told him as much as I could remember about the number of troops, the number of generals, the way they organize themselves, and how well supplied they were. I also told him about the God-Empress, including some details I pretended I’d learned in the camp that I’d actually learned from personal observation.

  “I don’t speak their language,” I said at the end, “but by the way they reacted when her tent burned, I think half her officers are afraid of her. Honored.” I’d realized about halfway through my speech that some of that information I could only have gotten if I understood Castaviran. I hoped no one noticed the inconsistencies. I have got to be more careful now we’re among Balaenics exclusively.

  “This is excellent information,” Crossar said, and I saw him close his lips on a sibilant that was almost certainly the first syllable of my name. He had permission to use my name, as I’d been maneuvered into giving it by the King, but it was still a presumption on a relationship we didn’t have, so his choosing not to felt like more of an honor than the King’s dubious request. Naturally, this made me even more suspicious of him: was he trying to gain my, if not allegiance, then my good will? Because basically I don’t think someone like Crossar ever does anything without an eye to his political future. And I’m certain he wants something from me. I really don’t trust him.

  We answered questions for a while, the kind of questions people of high rank ask of their inferiors that show they have no idea how anyone manages to live without a hundred thousand crowns’ income a year, then Jakssar finally did summon some servants, who took us away to be washed and clothed appropriately. The clothes are nice, but too ornate for my taste, and I don’t know where they took my old clothes. Probably burned them, so it’s lucky I smuggled these books behind a curtain instead of wrapping them in my clothes. Too bad, because I liked that shirt. These new clothes are going to make sneaking around Venetry difficult.

  Then we had dinner with the King, who asked the same equally foolish questions as Chamber had, though he did manage to stay focused on our trip and what we’d seen along the Royal Road. He also wanted to know about magic. We told him the truth about pouvrin, which made his eyes glaze over, but didn’t say anything about our having more than one. At some point we’ll have to reveal ourselves, probably tomorrow when we meet the mages, and I’m not looking forward to that. The King said “two or even three” like that was really impressive, so I’m certain walking in there tomorrow with twelve is going to disrupt whatever power structure they’ve got in place. Time enough to worry about that when it happens.

  Dinner was very, very long, with so many courses I ended up taking nibbles off some of the dishes I liked most because I’d incautiously eaten too much of earlier ones I didn’t care for. I hope they give what we couldn’t eat to the servants. Some of those dishes were delicious. We ended with after-dinner drinks, which I only pretended to imbibe, and finally the King yawned, and told us someone would take us to Fianna Manor, and left before we could finish saluting him.

  We didn’t see much of Fianna Manor in the darkness. I’d like to say it’s the same as all the other manors up at the top of the city, but none of them share any similarities aside from having walls and windows and roofs. Sizes, construction materials, floor plans, all of those are unique to each manor, which is a fun challenge for a thief.

  I’ve never stolen from Fianna Manor, so I didn’t know what to expect, and I still don’t, because we went through a side door down a narrow corridor, up stairs that had to be servants’ stairs, and into a wider, low-ceilinged corridor lined with plain wooden doors. These also are probably servants’ quarters, which makes me wonder if someone’s already trying to prove a point by pushing us to the side. If I were planning to stay, I’d care more about that. It’s still a nice, sizable room, though, with a pretty rug and matching counterpane, and a water closet, and furniture that all matches (heavy old oak, and I wonder how they got it up those stairs).

  Jeddan’s across the hall from me and his room is almost identical, except for the rug and counterpane being in different colors. I was tired enough that all I did was strip down to my underwear and cuddle up in the bed to write all of this. It’s a good, comfortable bed, too. It makes me wonder what kind of luxury some of these mages might be living in.

  I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I’m planning to stay three days and then head out for Colosse. I haven’t asked Jeddan if he wants to come with me—that’s part of what the three days are for, to see what happens with the mages and whether Jeddan would rather be part of whatever they're doing. I’d miss him if he stayed, but I know too well what it’s like to crave learning to be disappointed if he did.

  Chapter Twelve

  14 Nevrine

  I feel like I begin a lot of these entries with variations on “I wonder if I made the right choice.” I used to pride myself on being decisive. Not rash or reckless, but when your actions can potentially get you killed, waffling about them is a big mistake. So I always try to think things through, and go over all the possibilities, and then, when I’ve decided what to do, I do it without revisiting every last detail. (That’s not the same as changing plans in midstream, which happens frequently, but is a response to the situation changing, not my analysis.) It’s like I’m swimming out of my depth all the time, not having enough information but having to act anyway, worrying that if I knew more, I’d see whatever decision I’d made was the wrong one.

  In this case, however, despite having not even close to enough information, I know I made the right choice. I just wish it had been the wrong one.

  The day started, for me, with a knock on my door, and when I called an invitation, a woman entered with a steaming tray and set it down across my lap with a bow. It was scrambled eggs and bacon and apple juice and hot, black coffee, which I don’t care for but smells divine, and all the little condiments to make the meal perfect, and it was the first hot breakfast I’ve had in over a week, so I fell on it like I was starving and was really grateful no one was around to see my lapse of good manners.

  The woman left me to my breakfast with another bow, and I ate my fill, then set the tray on the floor and got up to dress. I wish I’d had my own clothes, because the ones the King forced on us gave the impression that Jeddan and I are somewhat higher class than we are, certainly people who deserve a surname and a home with two servants. Not what I wanted these mages to think of me, and I certainly couldn’t blend in very well in that getup, but there was nothing I could do about it except consider finding a servant’s room and stealing something more practical. I’d leave money, naturally.

  Anyway, I dressed—at least the clothes look nice—and then waited for a few minutes before remembering I’m not the sort of woman who sits passively waiting for things to happen, and I didn’t care if wandering through the manor was against the rules. So I crossed the hall to Jeddan’s room and knocked, then entered on his invitation. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in his own too-nice clothes. “So what do we do now?” he said.

  “Explore,” I said. “I want to meet these other mages.”

  “Have you decided what you want to do about the pouvrin?” he said. “Or, for that matter, telling everyone they’re called pouvrin, because I doubt that’s knowledge they got when they became mages. Especially since somebody came up with ‘magickers.’” He made a face.

  “I’ve been going back and forth on that all night,” I said. “On the one hand, i
f we go in there claiming one pouvra, then have to reveal more later, that makes us seem untrustworthy. But if we manifest several, who knows what kind of balance that will upset, if none of them have more than three? On the third hand, I’m leaving soon, and don’t care if they think I’m trustworthy. So I’ve decided to say I’ve got just the one, and see what happens from there. My least favorite kind of plan, but I don’t know enough to do better.”

  “That’s the conclusion I came to,” Jeddan said. He made a motion that encompassed all of him. “People see me as a threat because I’m as big as I am, and having several pouvrin will only make that worse. Better to find out what the people are like, and then reveal everything.”

  “Then let’s see if we can find our colleagues,” I said, “and maybe we’re being too paranoid. Maybe we’ll be able to share what we know and learn from them.”

  “Or maybe it will be as bad as I know you think it will, and we’ll both be leaving this place at a run,” Jeddan said.

  “I’m trying to learn optimism,” I said. “You’re not helping.”

  We retraced the route we’d taken the night before, down the narrow stairs, and went down the corridor only to discover ourselves outside. So we turned around and went the other way, through a small door into a tall-ceilinged hallway half-paneled in light maple, with skylights high above that made the place look cheery. There were two or three doors opening off the hallway that led to empty rooms with the same paneling and bare wooden floors. None were occupied.

  At the end of the hall, another hallway, this one wider, intersected ours. More doors, more skylights. We investigated each one: these were furnished, mostly sitting rooms, but also a music room and a formal dining room with a table that could seat forty diners. We saw not a single living soul in all this time, not even servants. I think, now, all the other mages are used to a leisurely morning, like we used to have in the Darssan, but while that does appeal to me, it certainly wasn’t how I was going to behave when there were so many things to explore.

  We finally found a staircase, a big one with an ornately carved railing and thick carpeting with brass stair-rods, and climbed to the next floor. That one had hardly any doors at all, and we were almost all the way to what I gauged was the north end of the house before finding anything worth investigating. That hallway terminated in the most beautiful window made of two enormous sheets of curved glass, one framed above the other, and it looked out over Venetry and the view was just breathtaking. Cities are beautiful, if only from a distance.

  We looked at it for a while, then decided to try the door on our left, which was a big three-paneled thing. It looked like three doors in the same frame, but only the outer two opened, and the middle was just a wood panel. We figured couldn’t possibly lead to someone’s bedroom, which was what had kept us from trying the other doors on this level so far.

  The room it led to was enormous. The ceiling was two stories tall and capped with a dome of glass so clear it looked as if it wasn’t even there; the silence, as opposed to the birdsong of early morning, was the only thing that dispelled that illusion. More tall windows lined the walls on two side at regular intervals, with rose-painted panels dividing them. The floor was a glossy parquet of wooden squares of different sizes and colors, like a mythical giant’s puzzle, and sunlight reflected off it to cast a glow over the other two walls, which by contrast had been covered to a height of about twelve feet with rough oak planking that was scarred and burned everywhere.

  I took a few steps into the room and turned in a slow circle. “Those light fixtures above the windows would turn night into day here,” I said. “I think this is a ballroom, or was.”

  “There’s a patio over here,” Jeddan said. He’d crossed the room and opened one of the tall windows, which turned out to be a door. “It’s a sheer drop fifty feet down, but you can see most of Venetry from it. Very pretty.”

  “I’m guessing we’ve found at least one of the places where the mages study,” I said, summoning a rope of fire and flicking it like a whip at the paneling. It made a mark paralleling an old burn scar. I tried again and managed to overlay the old mark entirely. Very satisfying.

  “How did you do that?” said a dark-haired man who entered just as I struck my target. “I’ve never seen anything like that kind of control.”

  “Um,” I said. I could see my plan start to fray at the edges. “It was a lucky stroke, I guess. I’m Sesskia. What’s your name?”

  “I—” He looked embarrassed. “I don’t think I’ve earned the right to your praenoma.”

  “We’ve met several mages in our travels,” I said, “and given how different we are from other people, it felt like kinship. My placename is Thalessi Scales, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

  “No,” he said, “no, you’re right. I didn’t think of it that way. Kinship.” He brightened. “I’m Davik.”

  “And I’m Jeddan,” Jeddan said, coming forward to exchange salutes with him. “What magic do you have?”

  “The fire rope, same as Sesskia,” he said. “Did you say ‘mages’? I haven’t heard that word.”

  “Everyone in the south uses it,” I lied—though it wasn’t exactly a lie; I’d pushed that terminology hard everywhere we’d been—“and we think it sounds more dignified than ‘magickers.’”

  “I wonder if Norsselen will like it,” Davik said, mostly to himself. “But I’m serious about your ability with the fire rope, Sesskia. I don’t have nearly that much control.”

  “Well, I might be able to show you,” I said, then remembered I wasn’t going to be here long, and he didn’t have the right vocabulary, and added, “Have you all had much success learning each other’s pou—magics?”

  “Learning each other’s—that’s not possible,” Davik said. “Some people have acquired more than one magic, but that just happens as you get better with the one you start with.”

  Jeddan and I glanced at each other, and Jeddan gave the tiniest shake of his head. I agreed with him. This was not the time to contradict this man’s assumptions. I wondered about this Norsselen he mentioned (now, of course, the name makes me scowl) and why his liking anything would matter.

  “Well, I can try showing you what I’ve learned,” I said, and directed him to take up a solid stance, which I don’t think is necessary but is something the Darssan mages find critical in scribing certain kinds of th’an, and I figured the focus might help him. Then I broke down the steps of the pouvra and tried to walk him through it, which led to us having to stop to discuss how it felt to wield the magic at all. Davik isn’t terribly bright, but to my surprise this made things easier; he was compliant instead of argumentative, and we’d almost come to common ground when a couple of women showed up, and then another handful of people, and they were all curious about the newcomers.

  We kept introducing ourselves by our praenomi, explaining of course no one should feel obligated to return the favor, and only about a quarter of the mages declined the honor. Interestingly, they all stuck together in their own corner, like a gang of toughs in the street who were dismissive of anyone not in their group, even down to a sense of low-grade menace. I kept an eye on them, just in case. Now I’ve met their “boss” Norsselen, I’m even more cautious around them. If I can’t predict what he’ll do, I certainly can’t predict what he might ask of his minions.

  So we met people, and demonstrated our pouvrin, and I was more careful this time not to look like I had tremendous control over my magic. It turns out to be difficult to pretend to be less capable with pouvrin than you are. I was glad I’d chosen one I really am less experienced with. Jeddan had no problem downplaying his pouvra. At least he’s using it, though I have a feeling he’s never going to go immaterial through flesh again, which is fine by me.

  Nobody seemed to think we were remarkable, and things were going well, when another man came through the door and said, “Ah, you must be our new members! I hope everyone’s made you feel welcome.” He was blond, white-blond, and had a l
ong jaw and freckles that made him look younger than the thirty-plus I guessed his age to be. He also reminded me so much of Vorantor, with his broad smile and his “I’m a great leader” pose, that I choked back nausea, remembering my last sight of Vorantor collapsed across the kathana circle with his throat slit.

  “My name is Norsselen,” he said, “and my magic is fire. And you are?”

  “We choose to offer our praenomi in a spirit of kinship,” I said, “but if you’d prefer, my placename is Thalessi Scales.” I said this because despite what I avowed, I had no desire for this man to use my praenoma. I’m still not certain he won’t turn out to be an enemy.

  “Thank you, Thalessi, I would prefer to maintain formality at the beginning of our acquaintance,” Norsselen said, extending his palm to me, then to Jeddan.

  “Rokyar Axe,” Jeddan said, not even pretending to offer kinship. “I can move through things.”

  “And my, um, magic is the fire rope,” I said.

  “Good, good,” Norsselen said. “I take it we haven’t demonstrated our magics for you? Everyone, let’s show our new friends what we can do.”

  The next part was impressive, and I have to give Norsselen credit for being able to point all these people in the same direction, even though I disapprove of both his methods and his motives. Everyone went to what looked like pre-determined spots in the room to form small groups. Then, exactly as if they’d practiced (because of course they had) each group took turns demonstrating a pouvra.

  Norsselen (I guessed this, and it was later confirmed) had done the organizing, and he’d at least worked out the fire mass and the fire rope were different pouvrin. There were a lot more people doing the former than the latter, which made sense to me, given how hard it had been for me to learn the rope. The largest group did mind-moving—I forgot to mention there were stacks of all kinds of things all around the room, bricks and short planks and hard rubber balls and things like that. None of them were capable of using the mind-moving pouvra on the same level as Cederic, but all of them seemed stronger than me. I’d feel inadequate about that if I didn’t remember crushing that bandit’s heart, and I try not to remember that.