The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2)

by Melissa McShane

  I turned to look at Cederic, who’d already lost interest in me and was saying, “I do not believe we need fight with one another.” He was wearing the red Kilios’s robe, which confused me at first because he burned his robe with all our other clothes the day Vorantor was murdered by the God-Empress, but then I noticed this robe’s color was faded and it was frayed at the collar and cuffs. His eyes were shadowed as if he hadn’t been sleeping well, and when his hand came to rest on the back of the chair he was standing behind, I saw it tremble.

  I saw all of that in the time it takes to draw breath and release it, and it made me so nervous I couldn’t think straight, though some of that was probably my cold. It was as if he were a stranger, someone I’d been told was important to me, but not why. I’d had him with me only in memories for so long I was afraid those memories were wrong, that they didn’t match the reality of him, and that he wouldn’t even recognize me because to him I was just a woman from a dream, too.

  That last thought, thank the true God, was absurd enough that I remembered the truth: I’d crossed half of Balaen hoping to be reunited with my husband, only to let ridiculous fears get in the way of that reunion. I pushed back the hood of my coat and said, “Cederic.”

  I think he didn’t realize who I was at first. He stopped in mid-word when I interrupted him and turned politely in my direction, as if waiting to hear what I’d contribute to the discussion. Then his eyes met mine, and a look of complete, uncharacteristic astonishment crossed his features. Somewhere nearby I heard Terrael shout my name, but I couldn’t stop staring at Cederic.

  He didn’t look as if he remembered how to move. He closed his eyes and shuddered once, the way he does when he’s trying to contain a powerful emotion. Then he opened his eyes, and said, “Sesskia,” and I was in his arms with no memory of how I’d crossed the intervening distance, laughing and sobbing at the same time, not caring how it must look to my Balaenic friends.

  Cederic held me close and whispered, “I’m sorry, love, so sorry, please forgive my stupidity,” and I said, “I meant to find you sooner, I truly did, I’m sorry,” and then I started laughing harder, I’m still not sure why, except I was so emotional it was either that or bark at the noonday sun like a madwoman.

  I’d forgotten about our audience, but Cederic hadn’t, and after a few more whispered endearments, he released me—not far, I still had a grip on his hand—and said to Mattiak, “General Tarallan, I am not certain what question to ask next.”

  “I’m nearly as surprised as you,” Mattiak said. “I assure you this wasn’t a ploy to threaten or coerce you.”

  “I believe you,” Cederic said. “But I think it changes the nature of these discussions.”

  “I hope it means we don’t have to waste time deciding whether or not to trust each other,” Mattiak said. “May we sit?”

  “Please,” Cederic said, and there was some shuffling as everyone found camp stools or folding chairs. I took a moment to hug Terrael, who for a miracle wasn’t babbling. He looks different, and I don’t know if that’s because he’s lost his magic or because he has so many more responsibilities now or just the haircut—but I learned all that later.

  We ended up in two lines facing each other, Castaviran and Balaenic, with me sitting on the Balaenic side despite my extreme reluctance to let go of Cederic’s hand. He didn’t look happy about it either, but we both knew where I belonged for this meeting, though I could see by how impassive Cederic became he was struggling not to ask a million questions that had nothing to do with the issues at hand.

  Mattiak gave me a look, when I sat at the end of our row, that was filled with a respect I’m not sure I deserved. I smiled back and him, and shrugged, and he nodded once, then turned to face Cederic.

  I was opposite a mage I didn’t know, with Terrael at the other end of the row, which was fortunate because I’m not sure I could have stayed focused on what was happening if I’d been looking at his familiar, eager face.

  “We did not realize you had doubled back until yesterday morning,” Cederic said, “and then we did not expect to find you trailing us so closely. We feel fortunate you did not seem inclined to attack us, because we were unprepared for that contingency.”

  “We were waiting for the right time,” Mattiak said. “I’d like to know why you didn’t attack us when you discovered where we were.”

  “We are not interested in attacking Balaen,” Cederic said. “We are pursuing Castaviran troops who are under the command of a madwoman who is intent on conquering Balaen.”

  “Your God-Empress,” Mattiak said. Cederic’s gaze flicked to me and away again. I wanted so badly for this meeting to be over, because he hadn’t even kissed me and I wanted that more than anything.

  “She is no longer Empress,” Cederic said. “She was ousted from power during the convergence. Castavir currently has no ruler.”

  “It’s not you, then?” Mattiak said. “You said you spoke for the Empire.”

  I gave Cederic a horrified look. “Cederic, you’re not Emperor, are you?” I blurted out, not caring that everyone turned their attention on me. I was caught in the grip of a vision of myself dressed in the God-Empress’s cloth-of-gold robes, seated on a throne next to Cederic, and I felt faint.

  He gave me a little smile. “I am not,” he assured me. “General Tarallan, the former Empress has no heir, and while there are many contenders for the throne, none has a claim sufficiently strong as to emerge the unchallenged victor. I speak for Castavir, for the moment, because my rank as chief of the priest-mages of the Empire gives me the power to anoint a successor. But before I can do so, the former Empress must be apprehended so she cannot challenge the new regime.”

  “And executed?” Mattiak said, arching one eyebrow. I swear I’m going to learn to do that someday.

  Cederic turned his tiny smile on Mattiak. “If she cannot be convinced to retire peacefully.” His smile said clearly what he thought of the likelihood of the God-Empress doing anything peacefully.

  “And then you will declare a new Emperor. Or Empress,” Mattiak said.

  “Not exactly,” Cederic said. “Bad enough that there is no obvious choice to hold the throne; the lure of power is great enough that many of the candidates passed over by me will not see my decision as binding on them, despite my right to make that decision. Civil war is coming to Castavir, and it will sweep Balaen along with it. Therefore, once we have defeated the God-Empress, I intend to offer the throne of Castavir to the King of Balaen.”

  I sucked in a horrified breath. The other Balaenics didn’t look happy either. Mattiak looked as if he were struggling to find words that would not be treasonous. “The King…I don’t think he…Balaen is a great responsibility in itself…”

  “We are aware of the King’s…limitations,” Cederic said. He looked as impassive as ever, but I could tell he was no happier about this than the rest of us. “But he is the best solution to both our countries’ problem. Many of those in Castavir who would revolt at one of their fellows being elevated above them would find no legitimate reason to prosecute their claim to the throne should a non-Castaviran hold it. None of them would be able to make common cause against Balaen because if they successfully defeated your country, they would simply be in the same position of being at one another’s throats. And Castavir’s military forces are in the hands of people who agree with my—our—solution.”

  “But your citizens will never stand for it,” Mattiak said. “To be ruled by a foreigner—”

  “We have been laying the foundation for that in the past months,” Cederic said. “We will, of course, insist on establishing the conditions under which the King of Balaen will take power. He will remove his court to Colosse, our capital city. There will be a council of advisors drawn equally from Balaenics and Castavirans. And we will expect him to marry a Castaviran woman. There are other conditions, but these are the ones on which we will not compromise.”

  “And if he refuses?” Mattiak said.

&nbs
p; “Then there will be war,” Cederic said, and his control slipped enough to show how the idea saddened and angered him. “That is not a threat; we are not interested, as I said, in attacking Balaen. I will select a ruler from among a pool of suboptimal choices, and Castavir will burn, and it will take Balaen with it.”

  Mattiak curled his hands, which were resting on his knees, into fists. “I am not the one you should tell this to,” he said.

  “I want the support of your army in defeating our former Empress,” Cederic said. “I think it would have been hard to convince you of the necessity had I not shared this plan. And I would appreciate your advice as to how we might present our proposal to your King that would be effective. It is crucial he be induced to see our sincerity.”

  Mattiak let out a deep breath. “I can’t ally with you,” he said, and Cederic went even more impassive. “That’s something King and Chamber have to approve. But I am free to pursue enemies of Balaen, and your former Empress falls solidly into the category. And, naturally, if we’re attacking the same foe, it makes sense we should coordinate those attacks. We wouldn’t want to step all over each other.”

  Cederic nodded. “And on the other matter?”

  “I owe my loyalty to my King,” Mattiak said, his face as impassive as Cederic’s. “I should not share such information with a foreign diplomat, if that’s what you are. But I am not the only one who’s observed the King closely.” He looked directly, blatantly at me, and I had to make myself sit up straight and look alert and helpful instead of shrinking from, again, the attention of everyone in the tent.

  “I understand,” Cederic said. “I respect your sense of honor. Is there anything you would ask of us? Of me? I feel myself very much in your debt.” He didn’t look at me, but I knew—and I’m sure everyone else did too—that as far as Cederic was concerned, he and I were the only ones in that tent.

  “I’m curious as to how you speak our language,” Mattiak said, “and why you sound like a Barrekellian.”

  This had made me curious as well—not the part about Cederic speaking my language, since I’ve given up being astonished at the things he’s able to do, but the fact that he speaks it with a long, drawling accent like that of those living in the southeast, especially around the city of Barrekel. It’s not that it’s a bad thing, but they all sound bored, all the time, and the contrast to the precision of Cederic’s Castaviran speech was pretty funny.

  “We have a kathana—a kind of magic—that allows a mage to speak and understand, but not read, another language,” Cederic said. “I was not aware it gave us any particular accent.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being able to speak yours,” Mattiak said. “It would be a tremendous advantage.”

  “I am afraid it would not work on you,” Cederic said. “It only affects mages because their minds have the right flexibility from working magic. Unfortunate, I think, but we have also met Balaenics who are learning to speak Castaviran the traditional way, and they tell us it is not difficult. Your language is far more complex,” he added, and he sounded impressed, which made me proud on behalf of my culture.

  “Perhaps when this is all over, I’ll make time,” Mattiak said. “I think I should meet with your commander—you did say that was someone other than yourself?”

  “General Gael Regates,” Cederic said. “She was not convinced this meeting was a good idea, but I think she will be glad to learn we could make common cause. She has not yet mastered your language, but we will provide translators. Shall we arrange for the two of you to meet here at another time?”

  “No need,” Mattiak said, rising from his stool. “If it’s all right with you, we’ll go to your camp now. I understand the former Empress is besieging Venetry at the moment, and I don’t think we should waste any time.”

  Cederic stood when he did, with the rest of us rising raggedly after him. “This has been an unexpected meeting in every way,” he said. “I am grateful to find such a sensible man in command of the Balaenic Army. I had anticipated a much greater struggle to reach consensus.”

  “I’ve heard a great deal about your character in the past weeks,” Mattiak said, “and I trust the source completely.” I was so grateful no one understood that comment, because it made me blush to know how much he respected me even if I didn’t return his affection.

  “Though it makes sense,” he said, extending his hand palm-out to Cederic, “that Sesskia’s husband would turn out to be the spokesman for an Empire.” That sent up a lot of murmuring on our side as my greeting of Cederic suddenly made sense to everyone, and I blushed harder and couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

  Cederic placed his palm against Mattiak’s with no hesitation. “Sesskia’s husband is simply very grateful to be reunited with her,” he said.

  Mattiak nodded. “I take it those…things…outside are some form of transportation?” he said.

  “Yes,” said Cederic. “They are somewhat faster than horses, so we will outpace you, but I think we should arrive in advance of you anyway, to warn our sentries.” Finally, finally he turned to me, and extended his hand. “Sesskia,” he said, with such depth of emotion in his voice that I shivered, “ride with me. I think we have much to talk about.”

  “Yes,” I said, my tongue tangling on other possible responses like Damn right we do and I am never letting go of you again. I let him help me into the collenna, which had a tendency to shift if you pushed on it the wrong way, and Cederic released its tether and it started rolling forward slowly. Then he traced a couple of linked th’an on the brass faceplate with his fat writing tool, and I shrieked and clutched at him when it jerked, then sped off faster than any horse, spraying up the snow that still covered the road into a fine white mist.

  Cederic chuckled and put his arms around my waist to steady me. “That was an unexpected bonus,” he said, and I pressed my lips to his and stifled whatever else he was going to say.

  He had to pay attention to driving the collenna, or I don’t think I would have stopped kissing him until we reached their camp. As it was, we managed a few kisses in between battering each other with questions. First, of course, was the pressing matter of why I’d been separated from him in the first place. It turned out Cederic Aleynten, Kilios and undisputed master of magic, had in his hurry to finish the convergence kathana left out a few simple but key th’an that would have returned me to the palace once the convergence was over. It took a lot of kissing to get him to stop apologizing for it.

  Less amusing was the way he looked when he described how rewriting the locator kathanas kept being pushed aside in favor of more urgent problems, like bringing order to Colosse and inventing a translation kathana, though that last was Terrael’s work. I seized on that and said, trying to distract him from his bleak memories, “So he didn’t lose his magic, after all?”

  Cederic frowned. “He did,” he said, “and I think you have guessed the common factor between all who can still work magic.”

  “The eyes,” I said. “Poor Terrael. But he seemed—I didn’t have time to look at him, but he didn’t seem incapacitated.”

  “There was a time when we thought we would lose him,” Cederic said. “He fell into a deep depression from which even Master Engilles could not rouse him. It took him some time to realize he had not lost his genius, and that his knowledge of magic was still extraordinary even if th’an no longer activated when he drew them. He and Master Engilles have become a powerful pairing, more so, I think, than even marriage can account for. He devises kathanas which she performs and adapts, and he acts as my aide. I think you will find him changed, but for the better.”

  “I’m glad. I was so worried for him and for Sovrin,” I said.

  “Master Peressten’s translation kathana works even on those mages who can no longer work magic, which has given them a new role in our endeavor,” he said. “Master Ustanz supervises our corps of translators, who travel to Balaenic cities to explain what has happened and ask for their help in bringing our countries together. She is
a remarkable leader and an effective diplomat.”

  “Are they with the army, then?” I asked.

  “All of the mages who worked on the convergence kathana are with us,” he said. “They will be overjoyed to know you are well. When the locator kathanas failed, all we could do was prove you were alive, and it was two weeks before we had the ability and time to do that.” He clenched his hand tightly on mine. “Two weeks,” he repeated, his eyes going unfocused, and I hugged him tight—tighter, because I hadn’t let him go from the moment the collenna started moving.

  I told him the short version of my adventures, from meeting Jeddan to fighting the God-Empress’s army, and he listened in the intent way he does, then said, “Why do you think the convergence created so many mages?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “All I can think is it must have been traumatic on some level we’re not aware of. Or that something about the combined worlds allowed the magic to wake up on its own terms, like how only the green-eyed mages can work magic now. But they’re able to learn magic the way Jeddan and I did, if faster—that might be part of the difference too.”

  “I look forward to meeting your friend,” Cederic said. “I owe him a debt for not leaving you entirely alone, after I—”

  I kissed him again. “I thought I told you no more talking like that,” I chastised him.

  Wry humor touched his eyes. “If you intend to kiss me every time I express my apologies for failing you,” he said, “that will almost certainly accomplish the opposite of what you intend.”

  “I could stop kissing you entirely,” I pointed out.

  “I think,” he said, pulling me close, “you are unlikely to follow through on that threat.”

  When we finally came up for air, I said, breathlessly, “I’m sure Jeddan wants to meet you too. I certainly talked about you enough.”