Slipping into Janeka Manor behind everyone else wasn’t difficult, and the halls are broad enough everyone could spread out comfortably and I could find myself a place near the rear where no one would bump into me. Mattiak was greeted at the door by a functionary in full court dress who indicated we should follow him.
I guessed he was taking us to the larger of the two audience chambers, the room where the King hears legal cases that have been sent to him by the Lords Governor because they’re too complex for their jurisdiction. It’s supposed to be an honor, but everyone knows it isn’t, because the King is indecisive and doesn’t understand the law well, and his judgments aren’t always fair. I should have realized it was an omen. Or maybe not. I’ve given up trying to decide what I should have anticipated in this whole mess.
The entrance to the audience chamber was flanked by two armed men in the uniform of the King’s personal guard. They each took hold of one of the double doors and pushed it open so we could enter. Since I was at the back, I didn’t see what brought the procession to a halt; to me it looked like a ripple of movement coming toward me, pushing everyone backward a few steps and forcing me to step even farther back or be run over. I heard some agitated murmuring, a few “what’s happening” comments, and then the King said something I couldn’t understand at all. And by that I mean it was in no language I recognized, and I think I’ve written before I know quite a few.
But I didn’t become truly afraid until I heard Cederic say something in a loud voice—I’m sure he wanted me to hear clearly—and it was, again, in that same alien language, except for two words that sent ice water rushing through me: “Renatha Torenz.”
I began prodding the people in front of me, whispering, “Keep going, damn it!” and eventually they all shuffled through the door and I could slip past them to stand at the front of the delegation, right behind Cederic and Mattiak. Now I could see the King and the God-Empress were sitting side by side on a dais that rose three steps above the rest of the room, and that made me feel both cold and sick, because none of the scenarios I’d entertained had the God-Empress as anything but a prisoner.
I should have anticipated the truth. I know well how the God-Empress can captivate someone, how compelling she is if you don’t know she’s mad, and I should have disregarded what the Castavirans said about her being a prisoner. Maybe if I’d been my usual paranoid self, things would have gone differently. But I guess I wanted to believe she was no longer a threat. So my being wounded is my own fault, and so is—no, I won’t think that way. Most of what happened would have played out that way no matter how cautious we’d been. But I still can’t help blaming myself.
The King was smiling and looked smug, as if he’d engineered some grand triumph he was about to reveal. The God-Empress was as beautiful as ever, though her roots were showing and her gown was an unadorned black silk. Soldiers stood behind them in a semi-circle against the walls (the room is a big oval), and some of the mages who’d remained in Venetry stood in two loose groups on either side of the dais. Jeddan wasn’t there. Terrael wasn’t there. The Chamber Lords were not present. The soldiers were blank-faced. The mages looked uncertain.
“—not represent the Castaviran government,” Cederic was saying, and this time I understood him even though he was still speaking in that foreign language. The God-Empress’s mages must have come up with a translation kathana. It didn’t bother Cederic at all, because he went on to say, “She no longer holds the title of Empress.”
“I am God’s anointed and cannot be removed simply because an upstart palace functionary decides he would like to be Emperor,” the God-Empress said. She looked neither mad nor dreamy nor cruel, but wore an uncomfortably acute expression that told me I shouldn’t meet her eyes if I wanted to stay concealed. “You betray God when you misuse your priest’s authority to support Perce Aselfos.”
“It is you who have betrayed God, Renatha Torenz,” Cederic said, “in abusing your position as ruler of the Castaviran Empire. Your ouster was just.”
“The people can’t be allowed to decide who rules them,” the King said. “That way lies anarchy. Renatha’s forebears stabilized the Castaviran Empire and brought it to glory, and you show disrespect to your ruler when you disregard that.”
Dread replaced fear. The King using the God-Empress’s praenoma was bad news. Cederic seemed to realize that. “Renatha Torenz lacks the support of the citizens of Castavir,” he said. “If she remains in power, the Empire will destabilize and civil war will result. As Balaen is inextricably tied to Castavir, it will be drawn into the conflict as well.”
“Do not threaten Garran,” the God-Empress said. Now I felt sick. The King using the God-Empress’s praenoma might be excused by Castaviran customs being different, but he would only allow her to use his if he felt a personal connection. She laid her hand on the King’s forearm and said to him, “You see how Cederic Aleynten seeks to increase his own power by challenging yours.”
“I have no interest in political power,” Cederic said, addressing the King and ignoring the God-Empress entirely. “My statement is not a threat, it is simple fact. Bringing two countries together requires a strong, unified government, not an Empress whose grip on the throne is insecure.”
“I agree,” the King said. “And I have a solution.”
Cederic was caught in the middle of saying something else, and his head jerked up in surprise. “A solution, your Majesty?”
“Yes,” the King said, and to my increasing horror took the God-Empress’s hand in a caressing gesture. “Our two countries will be joined by marriage. Renatha and I will wed, and we will share the rule of Balaen and Castavir. I will bring stability to Castavir, and Renatha will lend her strength to Balaen.”
The room went completely silent. For once, Cederic didn’t know what to say. The God-Empress said, “Gael Regates, you may serve our united kingdoms if you renounce your association with the traitor Perce Aselfos now.”
I turned to look at Regates, who seemed stoic, but whose eyes were wide and panicked. “You…I will not…” she said. The soldiers around her shifted, glancing at each other as if assessing their options.
“Perce cannot protect you,” the God-Empress said. “But God is merciful. I choose to spare your life. Reject my gift, and I will have to destroy you. Your soldiers will not protect one whom God has turned away.”
Regates was shaking now. She too glanced from side to side and, by her expression, didn’t like what she saw there. “I…accept, God-Empress,” she said, and I had to keep from sucking in a sharp, horrified breath.
“You will address me as Queen Renatha,” the God-Empress said (I just can’t stop thinking of her as that). “I choose to use the title bestowed on me by my future husband.”
Regates bowed. “Yes, Queen Renatha,” she said.
“Your Majesty,” Cederic said to the King, his voice calm, but with an edge that revealed how much strain he was under. “Renatha Torenz is mad. She will give Balaen nothing but destruction. We are here to offer you the throne of Castavir—you need not ally yourself with her.”
“Renatha told me you hated her, Aleynten,” the King said, “but I didn’t realize you were so far gone you would make such cruel accusations. I wanted to crush you and your followers, but she in her kindness chose to offer you the chance to put aside your bad feelings and accept her as your ruler again. I see you care nothing for peace.”
“Castavir will not recognize her as its ruler,” Cederic said. “We will fight to keep the throne from her.”
“She has Balaen’s support, and that of my army,” the King said. “General Tarallan, take this man and his followers into custody.”
Mattiak stepped forward. “Your Majesty knows I have been a loyal servant of Balaen for many years,” he said. “But you are making a mistake. You are putting Balaen into the hands of someone who will turn on you when she has lulled you into believing you are in control. I will not be party to my country’s destruction.”
The King blinked as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Commander General, I ordered you to take that man into custody.”
“I will not,” Mattiak said.
“General Regates,” the God-Empress said, making a little gesture with her finger. Regates immediately drew her sword, followed swiftly by her soldiers. Cederic’s mages went for their boards. Mattiak turned and gestured at his men, who also drew their swords—I can’t believe they let everyone come into that room without disarming them, the King is an idiot—and moved to engage Regates’ men. The soldiers along the wall came forward rapidly. The mages on either side of the dais exchanged glances, as if they weren’t sure what to do. And Cederic roared, “STOP!”
I’ve written before that Cederic has a tremendous presence. Everyone actually stopped. Cederic turned in a slow circle to encompass the room in his gaze. To my eye, he looked as if he might snap if given the right provocation. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “There are two countries lying inextricably entwined that must come together or go on clashing for a century or more. You, Garran Clendessar, have the opportunity to unite them. Castavir will throw its support behind you, but only if you do not ally yourself with this madwoman. Take what we are offering you. Embrace peace.”
The King looked horribly conflicted. He glanced at the God-Empress, who gave him a look of such perfect wounded sorrow even I would have been fooled if I hadn’t known she’s madder than a bag of starving weasels. He looked back at Cederic. “I—” he began.
The God-Empress leaned forward and fixed Regates with her mad eyes. “Kill them all,” she said.
Regates shouted a command, half her soldiers brought their swords up, and then it was carnage. The Castaviran mages, caught in the middle of the group, had no chance to use their boards. Mattiak’s men dove in to protect them, but some of those swords found their marks, and two mages fell screaming.
I dodged out of the way of battling warriors, circling around to get nearer the King and my mages standing uncertainly beside him. Regates’ soldiers were fighting each other as well as Mattiak’s; it seemed not all of them were afraid of the God-Empress’s threat. A few of Cederic’s mages stood back to back and were scribbling madly, though they kept being interrupted by the jostling of the melee.
Then fire erupted and died as my mages attacked, only to realize they couldn’t burn anyone without burning an ally, or maybe they weren’t sure who their allies were. I shouted, “Attack the King’s men! The soldiers!” That didn’t do anything but confuse them, since I think only half of them recognized my voice, but I still didn’t want to give up my concealment advantage even though I wasn’t sure what I’d do with it. I kept shouting as I ran toward them, and to my delight one clever person both recognized my voice and understood what I said, because a couple of the King’s soldiers flew backward into the wall backward.
What a terrible place to stop telling the story, but I’m falling asleep and lost track of that sentence. I’ll finish tomorrow.
3 Hantar
I spent yesterday with Audryn, who’s having a really hard time and needed reassurance, and that left no time for writing. I think we managed to cheer each other up, at least as much as Audryn can be cheered with Terrael gone. That’s far better than writing, any day.
So—Castavirans fighting Castavirans, Balaenics protecting the Castaviran mages, one of my mages knocking down some of the enemy soldiers. I turned reflexively to watch them fall and saw the God-Empress dragging the King by the hand—not literally, he was still on his feet, he was just dazed by the noise and furor—toward a small door at the rear of the room.
I darted after them, shouting something like “She’s getting away!” and had to fling myself through the closed door because I got there just as she shut it in my face. It led to a narrow hallway I’d never been in before that I guessed let out in the King’s living quarters, but we didn’t get that far, because I shouted “God-Empress!” and dismissed the concealment. “Let go of the King.” The translation kathana was still in effect, though I wasn’t sure how much farther its range might reach.
The God-Empress turned around, still gripping the King’s hand. “Sesskia!” she said, her voice filled with delight. “My dear sister! I so hoped you would come. I did tell you God would raise up more mages to serve her, didn’t I? And you, as God’s most high priest, did just that. I’m very pleased with my new priests. Thank you.”
“You’re her sister?” the King said, now thoroughly confused.
“She doesn’t have any sisters, your Majesty,” I said. “She had them all killed when she took the throne. She probably didn’t tell you that, did she?”
“Don’t listen to Sesskia, dearest, she’s always been jealous of how the others take up all my time,” the God-Empress purred. “Sesskia, I forgive you for everything you’ve done. I want us to be close again. Don’t you want that?”
“I’d be afraid I’d get a knife in the back if I were close to you,” I said. I lashed out with the fire rope. She moved fast as a snake and put the King between us, making him cry out in pain and forcing me to dismiss the pouvra. I couldn’t get close enough to use the mind-moving pouvra, couldn’t set her on fire without hurting the King, couldn’t think of a single thing I could do to kill her. Because that was what it had come to—the two of us facing each other, and me the only hope Balaen and Castavir had of avoiding war. That feeling of rightness I’d had fighting Norsselen filled me again. I was pretty sure I’d feel sick later, but at the time, it seemed like the only solution that one woman’s death would spare thousands of lives later. And I couldn’t do a thing.
The God-Empress’s expression turned into a snarl. “You spurn me,” she said. “You spurn my gifts. I’ve never been anything but generous to you and this is how you repay me. I didn’t even punish you for permitting Cederic Aleynten to disrespect me. I can’t allow you to continue to live.”
“I don’t know how you plan to make that happen,” I said. Her eyes focused on a point past my head, and I began to turn around, but I wasn’t fast enough.
Sharp pain ripped through my back. I screamed and fell forward to get away from the soldier and the sword that slashed down at me again, barely missing me. It hurt so badly I forgot every pouvra I’d ever known, could think only of crawling away, but there was no away, there was only the swordsman and the God-Empress and the soft scratchiness of the rug that extended the length of the hall, red with my blood.
The God-Empress said, “Hold,” and went to one knee in front of me. She grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her, making me cry out again. “I told you, Sesskia, God must not be mocked,” she said. “You pretended to be my sister, but I knew all along you were false. Your death will not appease God, but it’s a start.” She let go of me, made a signal, and with my last ounce of concentration I worked the walk-through-walls pouvra and fell through the floor.
I didn’t know where I was going, or if there were even a space for me to fall into; I just knew if I didn’t get away, I’d be dead. Luckily, what was immediately below that hallway was an unused guest bedroom, and I went substantial before I landed on the bed. I lay there for a while, my head and ears buzzing from the gray mist surrounding me, then I got up, clenched my teeth on a scream, and set about finding something to bind my wound so I could make my way to safety without bleeding to death.
I dragged the sheets off the bed and tore one into pieces, a large piece to fold and press against my back, and a couple of long ones to bind the pad securely to me. Taking my coat off hurt like hell, and I had to sit down and rest a few times during this process, but eventually I felt capable of leaving the room. I was so tired. I remember trying to conceal myself, and flickering in and out of sight, so in the end I had to leave Janeka Manor the old-fashioned way, by sneaking out a side door and counting on darkness to conceal me until I could tumble behind a stone bench near the hedge bordering the property.
I made it out just ahead of several of the King’s guard, who shouted and flailed a
bout in the darkness, then I stumbled around to the front of the manor, where the clamor was even greater. I thought I heard Cederic’s voice rise above the noise of shouting and screams as lightning snapped in short bursts across the broad, winter-dead lawn, but everything was echoing in my head, so I thought I must be mistaken. I know now it was Cederic, in a panic over not being able to find me, but that came later.
Once the guards were gone, I scrabbled around until I found a gap at the bottom of the hedge and forced my way through, biting back a scream as the branches dug into my wounded back. I found a hiding place in an alley of trees planted at irregular intervals and rested again, then realized I didn’t know where to go. I would probably be safe at Fianna Manor with Jeddan and my mages, but that would leave me separated from Cederic again, and he would be truly frantic at not being able to find me.
I couldn’t go to the God-Empress’s army, obviously, and if Regates had survived the slaughter, the Castaviran Army might not be safe either, depending on how many of its officers and soldiers she was able to convince to follow her. That left the Balaenic Army, which had its own problems; I was pretty sure Mattiak wouldn’t allow the King to retain control of it, but even if he managed to gather the troops that had been left to defend Venetry, the Castaviran Army still outnumbered him, especially with the God-Empress’s troops rejoining it. So he would have to move.
Right. He’d have to leave. So I needed to move quickly before they left me behind.
I stepped out of hiding and began walking rapidly toward the main road. I’d chosen that hiding place because in winter the trees, in their unorthodox arrangement, cast strange shadows that obscured more ordinary ones. They also blocked vision enough to make flitting impossible. I was staggering when I came out into the open, and my back felt numb and cold from pain, but I turned in the direction of the front gate and did an experimental flit of about a hundred yards.
The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2) Page 33
