Chapter Eleven
25 Jennitar
No time for research, because Cederic told me this morning (I went to bed early and slept like the dead for ten hours, and he was at Lethess all day, so this was the first I’d spoken to him since yesterday around noon) all about what happened, which was a surprise on every count:
1. Granea Amelessar was cautiously welcoming of our Imperial party.
2. She had a lot of questions about the political situation, including the King’s upcoming wedding.
2a. All the Balaenic cities have been receiving handbills announcing this blessed event, playing up the new spirit of union between our countries.
3. Amelessar thinks the King is a spineless weasel not fit to govern a herd of goats. (This was her exact phrase.)
4. She wants to meet the Balaenic woman who thinks she’s capable of governing both countries.
So the result of all this is we went back to Lethess this morning specifically for me to meet the Lord Governor. I asked Cederic, “Are you sure she understands I’m a nameless nobody? This isn’t at all the welcome I expected.”
“I did not make the explicit point that you have no surname,” Cederic said, “but I made no secret of it. Lady Amelessar did not comment on that. She is an unusual woman. When I asked about the raids Lethess had made on our Castaviran towns, she said she believed there had been misunderstandings arising from the original violence between Lethess and Pfulerre, and she put an end to those raids when she learned about them. I could not tell if she was being disingenuous, which disturbs me, as I am usually good at discerning motives. But she also seemed unconcerned about the size of the escort we brought to the meeting, which suggests she understands our security concerns and is not offended by our precautions. Overall, she is a woman I think we would do well to ally with, even if her province is not large or tactically important.”
“Having the allegiance of one Lord Governor is a step toward convincing the others to join us,” I pointed out, “so it’s worth doing.”
“I agree,” Cederic said. “We will again meet her outside the city—her suggestion. I wish I could tell you what to be prepared for.”
“Then I’ll just have to be prepared for anything, as usual,” I said, which made him laugh.
I found out the horse’s name is actually Thistle, which strikes me as a good name for her—apparently soft and pretty, but spiky if you handle her the wrong way. She’s still behaving herself. For now. And I’m getting more comfortable with riding, though I don’t think I’ll ever love horses the way Mattiak does. He’s more friendly with Thistle than I am and has chastised me for not being nicer to her. I’d tell him he can ride her if he likes her so much, but even I can tell he’s far too big for her.
Anyway, she was docile enough when we rode to our meeting, which was at a pavilion set up near the city limits. Even the smallest, poorest houses of Lethess are brightly painted. It’s a matter of civic pride to look good even if you’re having trouble feeding yourself, which is really the only criticism I have of the place. We could see some of these houses nearby, painted yellow or turquoise or bright green like candies, and it made me sad it wasn’t safe for us to ride into the city and see some of the beautiful buildings Lethess is famous for, or walk on the beach.
The pavilion was watched over by a detachment of men in the Lethess city guard uniform, something I’m glad to say doesn’t strike fear into my heart, because Lethess is probably the only city I’ve never stolen anything from and therefore have never had to escape the local constabulary.
Huh. I never realized how much I like the place until I wrote about it.
They looked stern enough, though I know they aren’t nearly as efficient as, for example, Thalessa’s guardsmen, and I’m pretty sure they could have fought us off if we’d been inclined to attack Amelessar. They watched us approach without showing any nervousness, and we dismounted about twenty yards from the pavilion, a good safe distance for both of us, and Cederic and I, with Mattiak and about half a dozen soldiers, approached the tent and damn if they didn’t actually salute us. Not the royal salute, but definitely one of subordinate to noble. That baffled and cheered me at the same time.
There were only four people inside the tent. Two of them were guardsmen, but bigger than the ones outside. They were also unarmed. I think they were Amelessar’s personal bodyguards. I know we had them outnumbered, and our soldiers had their swords, but they stood like men who were capable of taking someone’s head off with their bare hands.
The other two were women. One of them had gray hair and a deeply lined face, and wore trousers and shirt of a very fine make. The other was younger, with dark blond hair like mine but streaked with white—I think she was close to fifty—that she wore pulled tightly back from her face. She wore a silk gown with a full skirt that looked like it would be difficult to run in, and her expression was completely neutral. She was seated in one of three chairs, none of them the folding camp kind, and had her hands neatly folded in her lap.
I looked up at Cederic, who was surveying the room. He said, without turning his head, “General Tarallan, if you would ask your men to withdraw, and please give them your sword.”
Now I looked at Mattiak, who clearly thought this was the worst idea Cederic had ever had, but he removed his sword belt and handed it to the nearest soldier, and that soldier and the others left the tent. Cederic inclined his head toward the younger woman and said, “Thank you for your welcome, Lady Amelessar. May I introduce the Empress-Consort, Sesskia of Balaen.”
I nodded to her, trying to copy Cederic—I feel awkward not knowing how to salute people, whether there are degrees of respect I owe people of different rank—and Amelessar nodded back, equal to equal. I took this to mean she hadn’t yet made up her mind how to treat us rather than a deliberate slight. She indicated the chairs and said, “Thank you for coming. Please sit.”
We took our seats, and Cederic said, “I have instructed the villages who claim to have been raided by your people to cease raiding in return. I hope this will mean an end to hostilities.”
“I’ve investigated what you told me and determined my people were to blame as well,” Amelessar said. “We want to live in peace with our new neighbors.” Then she smiled, and added, “We recognize we’re in a weak position, given that your city—Pfulerre, is it?—is twice our size. So I admit our desire for peace isn’t exactly noble.”
“I do not intend to rule a subjugated Balaen,” Cederic said. “But I cannot yet guarantee that every Castaviran town will be as amenable to that goal. This is why I request your fealty. Bringing our countries together requires both to desire that outcome.”
“I’m not yet convinced your plan is sound, Aleynten,” Amelessar said. Her face had gone back to that neutral expression. “But it’s your Empress-Consort I want to talk to. Sesskia of Balaen. Are you ashamed of having no surname, that you use our country’s name instead? And offer your praenoma so freely?”
“I’m not ashamed,” I said, trying not to look startled at her directness. “But I think everyone should be aware I want to represent Balaen’s interests in bringing our countries together rather than those of a single city. And I think—we think—an Empress-Consort ought to show her people she trusts and respects them by offering the gift of her praenoma.”
“And you believe you’re qualified to bring our countries together,” Amelessar said.
“I’ve traveled Balaen for ten years,” I said. “I’ve lived in every major city and I’ve visited hundreds of smaller ones. I know what our people are like and I think I know what they need, or at least what they say they need. I know what it’s like to be poor and I’ve seen how the rich live, and I think they’re not so different as we imagine. And I’m committed to seeing that Castavir doesn’t dominate Balaen, and that Balaen doesn’t overrun Castavir. I wouldn’t say I’m the most qualified, because I don’t know every person who might fill this role. But I’ve already risked my life to save this world, so I think that puts me at the front of the line.”
“This world,” Amelessar said. I kicked myself mentally for that slip. “You claim our countries were once two worlds, and our current situation is the result of them coming back together.”
I had no idea what Cederic was thinking and didn’t dare look at him for fear of showing weakness. “It’s true,” I said.
“And you were a part of this…convergence? That’s what you mean when you say you risked your life?” Amelessar said.
“I was responsible for bringing them together safely, yes,” I said.
The older woman said, “They had to slip into each other, correct?”
That startled me. “Yes,” I said.
“Then you must know the walk-through-walls pouvra,” she said. I nearly fell off my chair.
“You are a mage,” Cederic said, sounding slightly shaken—probably I was the only one who noticed.
The woman raised one hand, then brought it down to slide through the back of Amelessar’s chair, taking on the strange glinting shift things get when they’re immaterial. I looked at her closely for the first time and realized that, yes, her eyes were green-grey behind those wrinkles.
“I have been a mage for twenty years, and Granea has protected me for five of those,” she said. “It wasn’t until the convergence, when all the other mages began appearing, that I dared show my abilities in public. Lethess has become a haven, these last few months, for those who need its shelter.”
“We saw you had the characteristic eyes of a mage, Aleynten,” Amelessar said, “but I couldn’t be certain—even if you were a mage, that might not make you someone we could trust. Then you told us about the convergence, and it was clear you were downplaying your abilities as if you were afraid we’d fear you. That concerned me, because it suggested you might be concealing your powers to catch us off-guard before attacking. So I decided I had to meet your wife. I wanted to know if you’d married some Balaenic woman for a show of egalitarianism, or if you were sincere in what you claimed.” She looked at me for a long moment, then said, “You should have married a noblewoman. It would boost your claim with the Lords Governor.”
“We were married well before all of this, Lady Amelessar,” I said, feeling irritated, “and Cederic is intelligent, but he’s not a heartless pragmatist.”
“I meant that as a commentary on my fellow rulers,” Amelessar said, “not as a slight on you. Show me what you are capable of.”
It took me a second to realize she was talking about magic, and then I despaired, remembering what we’d learned about magic weakening and how exhausting this was going to be. But I made both kinds of fire, then threw water at the back wall of the pavilion, went insubstantial, and finally concealed myself, which got a reaction out of the meaty bodyguards. “I can do others, but most of them don’t have obvious effects,” I said, feeling too tired for anything else—I don’t think it was real tiredness, just the emotional weariness.
The older woman watched me intently, and when I was done, said, “I didn’t know there were so many pouvrin in the world, let alone that a person might possess so many of them. I manifested this one at my awakening, and I learned the see-through pouvra almost by accident—by way of an old book I happened upon in the course of my work. I was a librarian in Garwin for many years.”
“It took a lot of effort,” I said. “Though it seems some of the new mages have learned others…by accident, I suppose you could say.”
“We’ve seen that too,” the woman said. She held out her hand, palm-first, and said, “I wish to give you the freedom of my praenoma, which is Orenna.”
“And I am Sesskia,” I said, saluting her and completing the ritual even though she already knew my praenoma.
Orenna and Amelessar exchanged glances, then Amelessar rose. “I will insist on keeping my position as Lord Governor of Lethess, or whatever it will be called when this transition is complete,” she said, offering her hand to Cederic.
He saluted her, Balaenic-style, with no hesitation, and said, “I would be a fool to remove you from office, I think.”
“You would,” she agreed. “Give me a few days to spread the word, and then Lethess would like to welcome you formally…your Majesty.”
“My thanks, Lord Governor,” Cederic said, inclining his head to her. Amelessar turned to me and extended her hand in salute. “Your Majesty,” she said, “I think you will serve both our countries well.”
“I’m honored by your trust, Lord Governor,” I said, “and I wish you would call me Sesskia.” I was taking a chance, but I felt instinctively I wanted her as a personal ally and not just as a…I don’t know what the Lords Governor and the consuls are to us; vassal sounds so archaic, subordinate sounds as if they don’t wield any power. Anyway, whatever that is, I wanted something different from her.
She smiled at me, this little self-deprecating smile I’ve seen often on her since. “Then I offer you the freedom of my praenoma, which is Granea,” she said, “and I thank you.”
There wasn’t much more to say, but I did talk to Orenna for a while, which resulted in me going into Lethess itself, finally, to talk to the Lethessian mages, with Mattiak as my scowling bodyguard. It was his decision, even though I fought him on the grounds the Commander General had better things to do with his time than babysit. He countered by saying if I were assassinated, Cederic would kill him and none of those things would matter.
They were a much more timid lot than ours. With no King to declare mages were not dangerous, they’d been hunted, and a lot of other mages had been killed. I think the only things that’ve spared our combined countries more bloodshed are the relatively great spaces between our cities and the fact that the armed forces of both countries are concentrated in only a few places. Though we’ve heard a few stories of places where Balaen and Castavir are getting along, which is heartening, or would be if it didn’t point up so starkly how bad it was elsewhere.
Anyway. The Lethessian mages were thrilled to see me even before they knew I was their new Empress-Consort, and I’m pretty sure about half of them weren’t convinced about that. But you’re either a mage or you aren’t, and they were all impressed at how many pouvrin I had. After demonstrating magic to them, I really was tired, which reminded me to ask if they’d noticed any changes over the last few months, and every one of them said they’d noticed it was getting harder, and more tiring, to work magic, and it had in fact been a gradually increasing problem. So I guess that’s one more thing toward proving that theory.
A few of them were from Thalessa, and we talked a bit about the city, and what had happened there. There was quite a bit of destruction, they’d said, big chunks of the city just crumbling. I guess the remnants of those failed Castaviran settlements were still large enough to interfere with the convergence. It meant Thalessa was in enough turmoil those mages escaped easily by comparison to some.
None of the five had come from the poorer side of town, so we didn’t have a lot of shared experiences. I think they guessed I’d been destitute, because by the end of the conversation there were a lot of pauses that said they didn’t know how a pauper brat from the wrong side of town was qualified to rule anything more than a dung heap. It made me uncomfortable enough that I excused myself, saying I’d return sometime and not sure I meant it.
Then it was time for dinner, and now I’m so exhausted I can’t believe I managed to write all this down. Tomorrow I have to work on this problem of magic…I hope it’s not disappearing. I can’t bear the thought of not having it.
26 Jennitar
Well, if magic is weakening—which is to say, we know it’s weaker, yes—but if it’s growing weaker over time, it’s so gradual we can’t see it happening. More of the mages in our camp are taking part in our research. The news that magic was fading was like a revelation—everyone had noticed the problem, but thought it was their imagination or something, and now everyone has theories about what’s happening:
1. Magic is draining away and not being replenished.
2. The worlds are diverging, and taking the magic with them.
3. Magic is spreading out to a concentration too thin to be used.
4. Th’an and pouvrin are less effective because of some characteristic of the new world.
What we’re working on now, though, is determining whether the effect is a result of the magic not being fully combined—and we’re also working harder than ever on finding out how to make that happen.
I say “working harder” but the truth is, I’m afraid to push us to our limits because those limits seem to be closer than they used to be, and we can’t afford to have anyone collapse. I’m guessing it will be as hard to recover from that as it is to work pouvrin and scribe th’an now. So I’ve moved our little group from the camp into the palace, which is a better environment for research, and make sure we take frequent rests and eat regularly.
I’m worried for Audryn in particular, who’s already tired from her pregnancy—her stomach is visibly rounded, and she let me feel the baby kick the other day! I don’t know what we’ll do when spring comes and we go to war. She seems to take it for granted she’ll be part of the attack, but she’ll be at least seven months pregnant and the idea of risking her unborn child bothers me. It’s something I’ve put off discussing with her, because she gets very touchy when anyone suggests she get special treatment because of her condition, like they’re blaming her for her accidental pregnancy interfering with our work. But we’ll have to talk about it sometime, and soon.
Things aren’t going well in Pfulerre. We had dinner with Radryntor this evening, and she seemed cranky. It didn’t occur to me that it might have something to do with us until she said, “You met with the leader of that Balaenic city today, yes?”
“We did,” Cederic said. “I think we have resolved the issue of your towns being raided. It seems to have been a misunderstanding.”
“It was a misunderstanding that left some Castavirans dead,” Radryntor said. “I hope you will see justice is done.”
“Balaenics were killed in those conflicts as well, Lady Radryntor,” I said. “We think it’s better that both sides acknowledge the mistakes they made and move forward.”
“We were the ones aggressed on,” Radryntor said, her tone of voice growing less friendly.
“My investigation says in two of the five instances, Castavirans attacked Balaenics,” Cederic said. “I hope you are not saying you are dissatisfied with my handling of the situation.”
“Of course not, your Majesty,” Radryntor said, but she didn’t sound any friendlier. “It’s my duty to ensure the safety of Pfulerrians in these troubled times.”
“That would probably be best achieved by reaching out to Lethess in friendship,” I said. “I’m sure you have a lot of things you can offer each other. There are so many things Castavir has that Balaen doesn’t.” I caught Cederic glancing at me and hoped I wasn’t laying it on too thick. Balaen has just as many things to offer Castavir, but with as prickly as Radryntor is, I figured stroking her ego wouldn’t hurt.
“I’m sure you’re right, your Majesty,” Radryntor said, but in a way that told me she would rather chew glass than make friendly overtures to the foreigners. “We are certainly conscious of our oaths to this new country and the duty we owe our Emperor.” Which was code for We are more valuable to you than this little Balaenic city, and you’d better not forget it. She definitely wants us to acknowledge her importance.
I’m afraid she may get angry enough to withdraw her support entirely, but Cederic says not to worry, she just needs to feel as if she matters. Which she does. I just wish she weren’t so bigoted. She treats me with barely enough politeness not to give me any reason to object. If I could figure out a way to win her over, I would, even though I dislike her personally.
29 Jennitar
Three days of experimenting with magic, both trying to work out if it’s diminishing and finding out what will has to do with bringing magic together. The current theory is that we should be exercising will the same way, either by bending our will, or exerting it, or something in between, and something in between seems most likely. It’s also the hardest thing to figure out, because you’d think either you’re trying to make something happen, or you’re letting it happen, and there’s no middle ground. But since we already know we can’t work each other’s magic the other way, it’s all we have left.
I’m so tired all the time. Cederic keeps looking at me as if he wants to order me to stop, but he knows how important this is. Also, he runs himself to the edge of his endurance so often he’d be a hypocrite to object when I do. We’re all being careful not to exhaust ourselves, to eat well and nap if and when we can. A few more mages have joined our little group, which is good except we have to take time to show them what we’ve done, and that feels so—not really a waste of time, but it makes everything go more slowly, and those of us who were part of the convergence kathana are starting to feel the same urgency we did back then. We need to make progress, and soon.