The Wandering Mage (Convergence Book 2)

by Melissa McShane

  He looked in her direction, wondering what new interruption she’d come up with, and thought, How strange, she looks so much like Sesskia. He blinked, focused again, took in the round face, the mass of dark blonde hair imperfectly contained by brass hair clips, the green-gray eyes fringed by thick black lashes, and felt as if he’d been flung headlong from one of those collennas into the frozen ground, because he could not remember how to breathe.

  He closed his eyes, opened them again, fearing that his first glance had been correct and this was merely some Balaenic woman who resembled his wife. Her eyes were still fixed on him, and she stood poised on the balls of her feet, waiting. Waiting for him to react. “Sesskia,” he said, and she flung herself at him, sobbing and laughing at the same time, something only she could manage. He put his arms around her and clung to her, words pouring out of him that even he couldn’t understand, though “sorry” and “my fault” seemed to be most of them.

  “I wanted to find you sooner, truly I did, things just kept happening, I’m sorry,” Sesskia babbled, then lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him, and her laughter increased, making him smile as joy filled his chest, buoying him up as much as her strong presence did.

  “How are you here?” he murmured to her.

  “I—it’s too long a story,” she said. “What about you?”

  “Also too long for right now,” he said. He released her and turned to face General Tarallan again, only dimly aware of the man’s presence because all his attention was focused on the gloved hand tucked into his. “General Tarallan, I am not sure what question to ask next,” he said.

  “I’m nearly as surprised as you,” the general said. “I assure you this wasn’t a ploy to threaten or coerce you.” He looked at Sesskia as he said this, and surprise, then uncharacteristic rage, threatened to overwhelm Cederic, because the look he bestowed on Sesskia was not that of a friend. Cederic glanced at his wife. She was looking at Cederic with such love in her eyes that it dispelled his anger entirely. Foolish of him to hate the general simply because he had the good sense to realize how wonderful Sesskia was.

  He nodded at the general. “I believe you,” he 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,” General Tarallan said. “May we sit?”

  “Please do,” Cederic said, and there was a general commotion as everyone found a seat, forming two lines facing one another, Balaenic and Castaviran. Sesskia withdrew her hand from his, smiling sadly, and went to take a seat on the Balaenic side. Cederic’s hand felt colder than the air could account for, and he closed it into a fist. Now he regretted the necessity for these negotiations. What he wanted was to take Sesskia somewhere that they could be alone and learn where she had been all this time, what she had done, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until they both forgot their own names. What he was going to do was talk to this man and convince him of the rightness of Cederic’s cause.

  This man who has the effrontery to fall in love with my wife, he thought, then dismissed the ignoble thought. He rested his hands palm-down on his thighs and examined his counterpart. General Tarallan had a rugged face that at the moment wore an amused, rueful expression, and Cederic found himself filled with compassion for the man. How did I feel, all those weeks when my love for Sesskia was not returned? And he has no hope at all.

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

  “We were waiting for the right time,” the general 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,” the general said. Cederic flicked a glance at Sesskia, who looked as if she were as eager to have this conversation over with as he was. What had she told them about Castavir, or the convergence? Would they think she was a traitor for having such close associations with a Castaviran mage?

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

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

  “Cederic, you’re not Emperor, are you?” Sesskia blurted out. She looked utterly horrified.

  Cederic gave her a reassuring smile. “I am not,” he said. “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?”

  “If she cannot be convinced to retire peacefully, yes.”

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

  “Not exactly,” Cederic said. This was where it became tricky. “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.”

  The Balaenics, including Sesskia, reacted with varying degrees of shock. General Tarallan looked as if he’d eaten something foul. “The King…I don’t think he…Balaen is a great responsibility in itself….” he said, as if he were searching for words that would not be treasonous.

  “We are aware of the King’s…limitations,” Cederic said, hoping his own turmoil didn’t show past the impassive façade he’d spent so many years perfecting. “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,” the general 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?”

  “Then there will be war,” Cederic said, feeling the now-familiar sickness that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought of the consequences of failure. “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.”

  General Tarallan 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 with you. And I would appreciate your advice as to how we might present our proposal to your King that would be effective. It
is crucial that he be induced to see our sincerity.”

  The general let out a deep breath. “I can’t ally with you,” he said, and Cederic’s face tightened into greater impassivity. “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 that we should coordinate those attacks. We wouldn’t want to step all over each other.”

  Cederic nodded. It was more than he’d dared hope for. “And on the other matter?”

  The general’s face was as impassive as Cederic’s surely was. “I owe my loyalty to my King,” he said. “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 turned his head to look directly, blatantly at Sesskia, who cringed a little when everyone’s eyes followed his gaze, then sat up straight and glared defiantly back.

  “I understand,” Cederic said. “I respect your sense of honor.” He looked away from Sesskia to once again meet General Tarallan’s eyes. “Is there anything you would ask of us? Of me? I feel myself very much in your debt.” Thank you for bringing her here. Thank you for sheltering her. Thank you for restoring my heart to me.

  The general smiled as if he could read Cederic’s thoughts. “I’m curious as to how you speak our language,” he said, “and why you sound like a Barrekellian.”

  “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.” He risked another glance at Sesskia—if he kept looking at her, he might lose control entirely—and wondered why she seemed so amused. Something to ask her later. Soon. Immediately.

  “I wouldn’t mind being able to speak yours,” the general 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 kind of 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 very difficult. Your language is far more complex.”

  “Perhaps when this is all over, I’ll make time,” he 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 that we could make common cause. Shall we arrange for the two of you to meet here at another time?”

  “No need,” General Tarallan 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 everyone else 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,” the general said, “and I trust the source completely.” He smiled wryly, and this time Cederic could feel nothing but compassion for him, compassion and a sense of comradeship in their shared affection.

  He extended his hand to Cederic, palm-out the Balaenic way, and added, “Though it makes sense that Sesskia’s husband would turn out to be the spokesman for an Empire.” That sent up a lot of murmuring on the Balaenic side. Apparently Sesskia had been at least a little circumspect in what she told her fellow countrymen.

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

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

  “Yes,” said Cederic, “and they are somewhat faster than horses, but I think we should arrive in advance of you anyway, to warn our sentries.” He saluted the others, then, finally, his heart pounding with joy, said, “Sesskia, ride with me.” He extended his hand, and she took his and gripped it hard. “I think we have much to talk about.”

  She gave him a look that clearly said she thought that was the most profound understatement anyone had ever uttered. “Of course,” she said, and let him help her into his collenna, which shifted under her weight because the previous th’an’s magic had not yet run out. He climbed in after her, released the tether, and reflected that he had never fully appreciated how narrow its seat was; she fitted snugly in next to him, her hand still linked with his.

  He leaned forward a little to draw the th’an on the brass face plate, bracing himself against the familiar jolt as the magic propelled the collenna forward. Sesskia, unprepared, squeaked and clutched at the front of his coat to steady herself. He laughed, and put his arms around her. “That was an unexpected bonus,” he said, “I—”

  She transferred her grip from his coat to his neck and kissed him, cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. He let the writing tool fall into his lap and pulled her closer to him, feeling like a starving man offered a ten-course meal as he returned her kisses. The reality of her presence was so much better than memory.

  He had to break away from her to make sure the collenna was not veering off course, then drew her into his arms again and sighed with profound contentment. “I cannot express how I feel to have you with me,” he said. “I am so sorry I failed you, my love.”

  “How did you fail me?” she said. She put her own arms around his waist and snuggled close with that brief shimmy of motion that always drove him mad with desire for her. Now he wished the collenna were larger. And enclosed.

  “The kathana should have returned you to Colosse,” he said. “I…was in a hurry, and…I omitted a few th’an. I never imagined I might make such a mistake.”

  She laughed, a low, rich sound. How long had they been separated, that he’d forgotten the sound of her laugh? “Cederic Aleynten, Kilios and undisputed master of magic, performs a flawed kathana—am I right that it’s the first time you’ve ever done that?”

  “You are,” he said. “Sesskia, I am so sorry—”

  She reached up to kiss him, firmly, then again when he tried to say something else. “No more apologies,” she said. “I forgive you for making a mistake, and you should forgive yourself, considering that it probably made that whole negotiation possible. I wouldn’t have been with the Balaenic Army, and you and Mattiak wouldn’t have had such an instant rapport.”

  “You must be friends, to use his praenoma,” Cederic said, trying to sound casual. Hearing her speak the man’s name so off-handedly roused his irrational jealousy again.

  “We are,” Sesskia said, and now she sounded a little too casual. “He’s a good man.”

  He tightened his grip on her, fractionally. “And he is in love with you.”

  Sesskia went tense. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed,” she said.

  The way she said it made the jealousy vanish, leaving him feeling guilty for ever having entertained it. “Better for both of us that I did,” he said. “I might have said any number of cruel things in my ignorance.”

  “I was afraid you might be…” Sesskia’s words trailed off. She brought her hand around to run her fingers along his hairline at the base of his neck. He wasn’t sure how he would complete that sentence either.

  “Is it arrogant for me to say that I am certain of your love for me?” he asked. “I love you, Sesskia, and because of that I can understand perfectly well how a powerful, honorable man might fall in love with you. And I can see that you feel nothing more for him than friendship. So no, I am not jealous of him except in the sense that I am jealous of everyone who was able to share your company these past months when I could not. Sadness, possibly, when I think of how I would feel if you did not return my love—though not
enough that I would stand aside and let him win your affections.”

  “I’m a little annoyed that you think I need your permission to fall in love with someone,” Sesskia teased.

  “Permission? No,” Cederic said, straight-faced, “but I assure you if I thought you were attracted to someone else, I would do everything in my power to convince you that I am the superior choice.”

  “I already know that,” she said, and they kissed until the collenna’s th’an nearly ran out, making them lag far behind the others.

  “Tell me what happened while I was gone,” Sesskia said when he had refreshed the th’an. “I already know the locator kathanas stopped working, and I am certain—” she poked him in the side—“that you were so busy with other things that you couldn’t spare the time to fix them and find me.”

  “Sesskia, I am sorry—”

  She kissed him soundly again. “No more of that,” she said.

  He smiled wryly at her. “If you intend to kiss me every time I try to apologize for failing you so utterly,” he said, “you will almost certainly achieve results opposite to what you intend.”

  “I could stop kissing you entirely.”

  “I think you are unlikely to carry out that threat.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, and the way she responded proved him right.

  “Colosse was in flames, literally and figuratively,” he said after a few minutes. “And we had so many mages who could no longer work magic. It took several days for us to marshal our resources, and more days to bring the city under control.”

  “Is Terrael…he lost his magic, didn’t he?”

  “He did. And I take it you realized the common factor among those who can still work magic.”

  “The eyes, yes. But I thought Terrael would be devastated. He seems…better than well, actually.”

  “There was a time when we thought we might lose Master Peressten,” Cederic said, frowning at the memory. “He fell into a black despair that even Master Engilles could not rouse him from. It took him many days to realize that his life was not over, that he still understands magic in ways no one else ever has, even if th’an no longer activate when he scribes them. He is the one who devised the translator kathana, he and Master Engilles—he does the research, she performs the kathana. They work well together, better even than their marriage would account for. I think you will find them both changed, for the better.”