Chapter Eighteen
6 Shelet, evening
I’m grateful, right now, to have this book, because I need to write all this out. It’s funny—before I got out my pencil I read back over the other books, just a few of the entries, and I never realized how much I was defining myself by what I worked out in these pages. Cederic thinks I have a generous heart, but right now I feel vindictive and cruel and I hate those feelings but I can’t set them aside. Crossar betrayed my family and he might as well have murdered my parents and Bridie. And now that I have the power to destroy him, I want to see him suffer. I want him to know what it’s like to lose everything. It would be justice, I think. But I don’t know who I’d become if I went through with it.
It was after dinner. Cederic and I ate alone in our tent, which we do more frequently now. I think both of us feel the need for privacy after spending the day being public figures. Cederic was very quiet, but I didn’t feel much like talking either, so I didn’t think anything was wrong.
Today was long, and full of discussions and messengers going back and forth between the armies and between the Barrekellian forces and the city. I don’t know what Gradden told Domenessar about why he hadn’t followed orders—possibly that they needed time to break camp. True God knows what Domenessar thought of the Balaenic Army not moving either. I guess they’re still working out the logistics of combining the divisions.
It was fun to imagine Domenessar getting more and more furious, and wonder when that fury was going to turn into apprehension and then fear. But it’s not as if he had the forces to do anything about it. I’m happy, because having to give him a quarter of the Empire would have been disastrous, worse than giving Crossar Venetry. If that’s what happens.
Anyway, Cederic was quiet, and it wasn’t until the meal was nearly over that he said, “Sesskia,” in a way that told me he was gearing up for an unpleasant conversation. I felt my meal begin to roil in my stomach. “Sesskia,” he repeated, “there is something we should discuss.”
“What is it?” I said, holding on to my calm demeanor.
He looked away from me. “It is about our promise to Caelan Crossar,” he said.
Now I felt really sick, because I hated thinking about that. “He did what he said he would,” I said. “We can’t go back on our word.”
He shook his head. “The agreement was that he would deliver us Arron Domenessar,” he said. “He failed to do that.”
“But,” I said in surprise, “we have the troops. He brought us support.”
“Sesskia,” he said, “what I am telling you is we are not technically bound by that promise. I told him what the terms of our agreement were and he did not keep his side of the bargain.”
I opened my mouth to protest and then it hit me. We didn’t have to keep that promise. We didn’t have to give Crossar power. I wouldn’t have to see my family’s betrayer elevated to the rank my father had tried to secure. I grinned. “I like that,” I said. “Can I tell him?”
Cederic didn’t smile. “I said ‘technically,’” he said. “But it is dishonorable. The spirit of our agreement has not been broken. We should not take advantage of this.”
I clenched my fist under the table. “He’ll be a terrible ruler,” I said. “He’ll use his power to benefit himself and he might even challenge you someday. We can’t afford to let him have it.”
“It would cost us our honor to refuse,” Cederic said.
“It would not,” I said. “How is it dishonorable to protect the Empire?”
Cederic looked at me in silence for a moment. Finally, he said, “I am going to let you decide.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Shouldn’t we decide this together?”
“Your heart is bound up in this,” Cederic said. “You say you want justice when what you want is revenge. I don’t want you resenting me for forcing you to reward a man you justifiably hate. You need to decide where our honor lies: keep our word, or protect the Empire. You were the one wronged, Sesskia, and if choosing not to keep that promise is what will satisfy your need, I will not speak against it and I will accept your judgment as the honorable thing. I trust you to do what’s right.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel guilty so I’ll keep that promise,” I said.
“No, I am not,” he said. “I want to use that loophole as much as you do. Caelan Crossar could be disastrous for our rule. But this is not about the kingdom. This is about how you were hurt by him. If he becomes viceroy, we will have to deal with him often, and I don’t want you to have to face him with hatred and bitterness in your heart, because that will make you someone you are not. I will not tell you to forgive him, but I think you need to find a way to break the power he has over you.”
“He doesn’t have any power over me,” I said.
“He controls your emotions simply by his presence,” he said, “and he is a reminder of what you have lost. You are stronger than he is, but I think you’ve forgotten that.” He stood up from the table. “This is your choice, and I trust you to make a good one,” he said, “because I love you and I have faith in you.” He left the tent, left me gaping and unable to say a word. The noises of the camp seemed muted now, as if they were coming from farther away. I sat there for a few minutes, not thinking of anything, and then I found my book and wrote this.
I don’t care what Cederic says, I don’t think it would be dishonorable to hold Crossar to the letter of his agreement
That’s not true. There’s a part of me hidden deep inside that knows we’d be cheating him. The information he provided did give us the allies we needed, because the truth is Domenessar was only important because he could order the Black and Brown Armies to join us, and knowing about my Dad let us bypass him and go straight to the generals. That couldn’t have happened if I were still just Sesskia the wharf rat.
But…I really think it’s a bad idea to give Crossar so much power! Maybe he is a competent ruler, I don’t know. But I know he’s always going to put his own interests ahead of those of the Empire, and if he decides his interests mean betraying us to take the Imperial throne for himself, he’ll do it, and he’s clever enough he might even succeed.
No. I can’t lie to myself. I don’t give a damn about what kind of ruler he’ll be. Well, I do, but what I really care about is crushing him into the ground. If I let him win, I’ll be betraying my family as much as he ever did. How can he be rewarded for that? How can I stand to see him triumph after what he’s done? I can’t do it. I don’t care if it’s not honorable. I can’t.
It’s been fifteen minutes since I wrote the last and I’m more confused than ever. I feel as if I’m at war with myself: part of me wants to see Crossar humiliated, but then there’s the part of me that cringes at what I’d become if I do that. It’s the part of me that felt guilty at not being able to forgive Roda—but she was penitent, and she only made a mistake. Crossar doesn’t care that he destroyed my father and he did it on purpose. Don’t I have a right to avenge him?
Cederic was right; this is about what I need. I just can’t tell which decision will make me whole again. Will satisfy the pain he’s caused me. I wish I could talk to Roda, but even though she’s entitled to a say in what kind of justice Crossar deserves, she doesn’t have the authority to make this decision for the Empire. So it’s down to me. And I’m a selfish, vindictive woman who can’t let go of the past.
6 Shelet, midnight
I sat for about half an hour after finishing that last entry, staring at the page and wondering if there were anything else to write. When I finally concluded there wasn’t, I put the book away in my pocket and went to find Cederic, who was standing outside the picket lines talking to Gradden. “I’ve made a decision,” I said.
Cederic immediately broke off his conversation and saluted Gradden, who mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of the Black Army. I know now we’re moving out in the morning, and I wish I could see Domenessar’s face when he sees the Barrekellian forces leaving the city. His loss, since he was too greedy to make the right decision.
“Should I summon Caelan Crossar?” Cederic said.
“Yes. I want us to speak to him privately,” I said.
“May I ask what you’ve decided?” he said.
“I’m afraid if I tell you, I’ll change my mind,” I said, “because I’m still not totally sure I’ve made the right decision.”
He took my arm and we walked through the camp together. “I am certain you have,” he said, “because I trust you. And I will support you no matter what you tell Caelan Crossar.”
At the command tent, I sent a messenger to find Crossar, and Cederic told everyone they were done for the day—it was nearly sunset, so that wasn’t so strange, except Cederic usually works until midnight. But no one wanted to argue with the Emperor, especially since most of them had other, more enjoyable things to do. We went into the empty tent and sat and waited. Finally Crossar arrived. “I assume this couldn’t wait until morning,” he said.
“You assume correctly,” I said. “Have a seat.”
He sat without a trace of nervousness. He clearly didn’t think we could do anything to him. “Your information proved essential,” I said. “Thank you.”
“I live to serve my country,” he said, with a smirk that said he was lying.
“And now you want to serve in a grander capacity,” I said.
“I gave you the Armies, you give me Venetry,” he said.
I leaned forward. “That was not the agreement,” I said. “You were to give us Domenessar. I notice he’s not riding with us. You failed.”
Crossar’s eyes narrowed. “A technicality,” he said. “We both know the nature of the power you wanted.”
“Nevertheless, you failed to deliver on your promise,” I said, “and we don’t feel bound by that agreement. You get nothing.”
Crossar leapt to his feet. “How dare you cheat me!” he shouted. “I gave you what you needed and you betray me!”
“Like you betrayed my father?” I said. “You ought to know how it works, Crossar. All that matters is getting what you want, no matter how many promises you have to break. You don’t deserve to rule in Venetry because you’re a lying traitor who will only keep faith with your Emperor as long as it benefits you.”
“I swore an oath,” Crossar said, breathing heavily. “I want this kingdom to prosper. I only turned on your father because he was in the way of that. You will give me what you promised or I’ll—”
“Sit down,” I said. To my surprise, he dropped back into his seat. “I’m not finished. You betrayed my father. You’re a lying opportunist and you only keep the promises that benefit you. And I’ll be damned if I turn into someone like you.”
I had his full attention. I went on, “I would be completely within my rights not to keep that promise, and you were a fool to make a vow that specific. But I’m not dishonorable. And you gave me a heritage I never expected. So we’re keeping that promise. You get what you asked for. But listen closely, Crossar.”
I stood up and took two steps to loom over him. “You’re not getting this because you earned it or because you forced us into it,” I said. “You’re getting it because I choose to give it to you. Everything you have, everything you are from this moment on, is thanks to me. If you have power, it’s because Alenik Daressar’s daughter gave it to you. Without me, you are nothing, and I can take all of that away just as easily. So think carefully before you decide to betray this Daressar, Crossar, because I’m not my Dad, I’m suspicious and distrustful and I love this Empire, and if I so much as suspect you’re trying to use it for your own selfish purposes, I’ll destroy you.” I took a step backward. “You’re dismissed, Lord Crossar.”
Crossar looked in Cederic’s direction. I could have told him he wouldn’t get any sympathy from that quarter. He stood, slowly, then bowed to me, vassal to ruler. “Your Majesty,” he said, and left the tent.
Cederic put his hand on mine. “That was not the decision I expected,” he said, “but it was clearly the right one.”
“Was it?” I said. “Or will it just motivate him to strike at us sooner?”
“That is a man who responds to power,” he said, “and I think he has finally realized that in coming to us, he can no longer exercise that power through others. He has lost what power he had in Balaen, and he will never be satisfied with being an ordinary man. He thought to deal with us from a position of power without remembering he has none. You reminded him he rules at our sufferance and that there are consequences arising from that, namely that he can lose his power at any time. Not that we would be so autocratic, but the possibility is there.”
“That makes me feel better,” I said. “And I think my Dad would approve.”
“I think your father loved you, and would be proud of the woman you’ve become,” he said.
“I hope so,” I said. “And thank you for having faith in me. I was close to making the wrong decision.”
He gripped my hand tighter. “You are as human as anyone, love, but you have a generous heart and I have never known you to be cruel,” he said. “You might have been a good choice for Empress without me.”
I hugged him, and said, “Don’t ever say that again. It fills me with horror that I might not have you with me.”
“Then, as I have sent everyone away for the night,” he said, “I think we should retire to our tent and remind each other of why we need one another so much.”
So we did. I do love him. Sometimes I think back on how we first met and I’m astonished that we were able to go from that to love and marriage and trust and everything we have together. I’m worried it can’t last, that we’re going to run up against something too big for us to get past, and start fighting, and discover character flaws we can’t endure, because this seems too good to be true. And yet it is.
I read some of this book to Cederic while we were snuggled up together, before I wrote this, the part about going to Venetry to rescue Terrael, and he said, “I was even angrier than you realized. It was fortunate you were unconscious, because I lost my temper and would have turned it on you instead of on the soldiers who brought you to me. And I never want you to be the recipient of my anger again.”
“But am I any better than those soldiers, really?” I said. “They didn’t deserve it either.”
“No, but with you, added to the guilt and shame of having lost my temper would be the agony of seeing you look at me in pain and betrayal,” he said. “And the fear that you might not be willing to forgive so readily a second time.”
“I understand that,” I said. “You have a temper, and I have a tendency to run away when things are bad.”
He tightened his arms around me and said, “If you run away, I promise I will follow you and make things right.”
“I know,” I said. We lay still and quiet together until we both dozed off. Then I woke up and had trouble falling asleep again, so I wrote even though I’d planned to record this in the morning. Writing helps me relax, though I think it’s the contrast between sitting here in the chilly tent and lying cuddled up in a warm bed that helps me fall asleep again. So I’m going to do that, because tomorrow’s going to be a busy day, heading out to Teliarne.
7 Shelet
So we’re not going to Teliarne after all. We were breaking camp when a scout arrived, looking as if he’d ridden for days without rest. His horse didn’t look much better. I don’t think I’ve ever felt sympathy for a horse before, but it was hard not to feel sorry for the animal. He brought terrible news which I’ll sum up:
1. The God-Empress’s troops (they call it the New Army, but we all know who’s driving it) left Venetry a week or two ago even though the snows are still fairly heavy in the north.
2. They went to Duberin, which is a Castaviran city west of Colosse and one of our allies, and demanded they swear allegiance to the God-Empress. (The scout only heard rumors about the details, but he was certain they did not say “allegiance to the God-Empress and the King of Balaen.)
3. Duberin, which is a heavily fortified if not heavily defended city, defied them. I think this was insane. They should have pretended to swear allegiance and then turned on the God-Empress later. Cederic said that was out of character for Castavirans. I told him Castavirans are crazy. He agreed with me. I think he was proud of his countrymen.
4. The God-Empress set the entire Castaviran Army on Duberin, which was overwhelmed in days. Then she let the troops destroy it. Raping, looting, killing—there’s almost nothing left of the people of Duberin. The consul who defied her was disemboweled and left to die in the city square.
5. The God-Empress sent out messengers describing what she’d done and promising the same to any city that failed to acknowledge her rule.
This changes a lot. She’s almost certainly on her way to Colosse and if we don’t get there quickly, it’s going to suffer the same fate. So we sent messengers to Teliarne and we set out as fast as we could for Colosse, or rather for a ford across the Myrnala that will let us cross over so we can go to Colosse. The Helvirite Army is going to meet us there, and I hope it moves quickly, because we are heavily outnumbered right now, even with the Barrekellian forces. Mattiak doesn’t look happy at all. He and the generals have been in conference with Cederic and his advisors, going over maps of Colosse and trying to plan a defense of a city the Balaenics have barely seen. That’s assuming we get there in time to set up a defense as opposed to having to fight street-to-street.
The whole thing makes me sick because I’m helpless right now. All I can do is work with the mages to figure out how to stop magic from fading. Our army may be outnumbered, but we definitely have more mages than they do, since all the Balaenic mages left Venetry and Cederic “retrieved” his mages from the Castaviran Army. Unfortunately, Cederic’s mages aren’t battle mages, and the Balaenic mages still don’t have a lot of experience. And with magic becoming so weak, we’ll be even less effective. So we’re all focused on figuring out the pouvra that makes magic visible, and we’ll see what happens next.
8 Shelet
We’re in contact with the Firtha thanest now, fearing the day when the message will be We’re overrun and then silence. Duberin’s closer to Colosse than Barrekel is, and we’re all pushing ourselves as hard as we can without collapsing. We make only a minimal camp each night, though we still eat well, since no one wants the army to be starving and exhausted when we meet the enemy.
It’s as if this pouvra doesn’t want us to master it. To me it feels like it’s slipping away even if I don’t try to exercise my will on it. I’m having to be cheerful and positive so no one gets discouraged, but privately I feel on the verge of despair. We’ll reach Colosse in nine or ten days, which seems like forever when we’re thinking about how fast the God-Empress’s army can move, but it’s almost nothing when we’re trying to discover, or create, or shape a pouvra we can barely comprehend. My biggest worry is we’ll get it to work, and it won’t matter because what it reveals is incomprehensible to the human brain. But I keep all these worries to myself and this book. I don’t even tell Cederic because he has enough worries of his own and there’s nothing he can do about mine.
9 Shelet
It’s working. It really is. People have begun seeing flashes of something when they try to work the pouvra, like…well, no one’s really agreed on what they’re seeing, but it’s nothing we’ve ever seen in working pouvrin before, and the Castaviran mages are seeing it too! That was one of the things we weren’t sure of, whether we could make the pouvra have an external effect rather than just affecting the mage working it. This is incredibly heartening.
10 Shelet
The pouvra keeps collapsing, probably because we’re trying too hard. It’s so exciting, feeling so close. It’s also that the pouvra is the strangest shape any of us have ever seen. It’s like it’s trying to exert an influence on the world around it, but not in the sense of working magic, like the fire pouvra influencing the world by creating fire. From what I’ve seen when it’s my turn to observe rather than work the pouvra, I’d say it’s trying to create some kind of field that alters vision, like a lens or heat haze. That tells us it’s working, since it would make sense it would need to change our perceptions. I wonder if the magic is out of sync with the world, or if it’s just invisible. Out of sync might suggest a solution to bringing magic together, but it’s too soon to make plans based on unsupported assumptions.
11 Shelet
We did it. We just don’t know what it means yet.
We (the mages) had breakfast together this morning because Cederic left at dawn to ride with the generals. I don’t know what they find to talk about all day, and I’m not sure I want to know, if their lengthy discussions mean they’re having trouble coming up with strategies to defend Colosse. We mages have a strategy of our own: we break up into groups centered on the fourteen of us who can work the revelation pouvra, with everyone else observing. This is hard but necessary, because when you’re bending your will to manifest it, you can’t pay attention to anything else or it slips away as if you’d tried to force it.
So seven of us work the pouvra and the rest of the group watches and takes notes, and then when the mage gets tired, the other one takes her place. We have to break for rests frequently, and for some reason this pouvra makes you hungry, so I feel like I’m eating all the time, probably because I am. In general it feels like trying to climb a slippery wall; you have to move slowly and watch where you put your hands, or you slide backwards and have to start over. Fortunately, climbing walls is something I have experience with.
I was partnered with Jeddan—I love working with him—and it was his turn to work the pouvra while we watched. This gets boring fast, so I didn’t realize the blurriness in my vision was anything more than eyestrain until somebody near me drew in a sharp breath, not very loud, but enough to be heard over the creaking of the wagon. I blinked a few times and realized the blurriness was extending outward from Jeddan in all directions, a faint haze that was like the finest gauze you could imagine, finer than anything human hand could produce. I realized I was holding my breath and let it out slowly, not wanting to disturb Jeddan’s concentration.
Then Jeddan said, “I’m feeling a buzzing numbness in my feet and hands. I’m not concealed, am I?”
“No, it’s working—don’t get excited!” I said.
“I’m not,” he said. His voice sounded remote, like he was thinking about something other than what he was saying. “Don’t tell me what it looks like. I’ve got the shape of the pouvra surrounding me and I’m afraid if I try to picture something else, it will fall apart.”
I waved everyone else to silence (unnecessarily) and watched as the haze spread. Then other shapes appeared within the haze. They were round, globular really, and the color of mud, as if someone had mixed together a dozen colors of paint and dunked them in it. It was…underwhelming. I’d hoped for something beautiful, but this didn’t even look like magic. Then I wondered if it was magic at all. Maybe we’d revealed something else.
“Nobody tell Cederic I did this,” I said, and I reached out to grasp one of the blobs. Nothing bad happened to me or Jeddan. The blob went through my fingers as if it were just an image of a blob. Then the haze shrank in on itself, and Jeddan opened his eyes. “I think I dispelled it,” I said.
“I don’t think so. I had to let it go because the tingling was turning into fiery burning,” Jeddan said, tucking his fingers under his arms and flexing his feet in their sturdy boots. “What did it look like?”
“Ugly blobs,” Tobiak said. “Are we sure it’s really magic?”
“I had that thought, but what else could it be?” I said. “There are people who study the nature of the world—if it was made up of blobs, you’d think we’d have heard about it.”
“And they’re too big and too dispersed to be part of people, or animals, or even plants,” Relania said.
Jeddan stretched. “So we know what it looks like,” he said. “Next we need to make it do things without being absorbed by pouvra or th’an.”
“I couldn’t touch it,” I said, “so it will have to be magic that does it.”
“Sesskia, see if you can manage it. I want to see them,” Jeddan said. “Try bending your will before picturing the pouvra. I felt as if it were sliding into place around me, like it was there the whole time and I just couldn’t see it.”
“I’ll try that,” I said. I settled down cross-legged with my hands resting on my thighs, closed my eyes, and let my mind sink into the state where my will is pliant and able to take on the shape imposed by the pouvra. I did as Jeddan suggested and bent my will without having a shape in mind, which is harder than it sounds. You have to reject all the impulses that come to mind, hunger and thirst and muscle pain, and accept that those things are part of who you are and willing them away is only temporary. You have to…I don’t know. Become humble. Bow before the implacable power of reality.
And it worked. I saw the pouvra as if it were angular shapes rising out of the sea, taking the place of the volition I’d given up, shaping me to their desire. My feet and hands started tingling, but I stayed relaxed and examined the pouvra as if I were looking at my own body, something so familiar I wasn’t surprised out of my reverie. It was smooth, and flowing, like water through a reed contorted in ways no real plant could have mimicked, not and still let water flow freely. I flexed that immaterial shape and saw it bend and try to whip away from me, so I made myself relax again and it steadied. Then I watched it, not trying to interact with it.
It didn’t give any hint as to what it was for any more than any other pouvra does. It’s not as if the fire pouvra has flames surrounding it or the concealment pouvra looks like it’s made of glass. I wondered what it would be like to observe the other pouvrin this way, but realized it would be impossible because when you work a pouvra (normally, that is) it shapes the magic and then disappears. So the fact that this one persists tells me it really is maintaining whatever field or lens it is that makes magic visible. It’s very strange, and if we weren’t becoming so desperate, I’d want to examine it more closely.
Eventually my hands and feet started to hurt, and I had to release the pouvra and open my eyes. “Well?” I said.
“If that’s magic, it’s just a bunch of blobs floating around,” Jeddan said. “We can’t touch them, and the only time we saw them respond to anything was when two of them drifted close together. They didn’t join together, they sort of pushed each other apart.”
“It was like the wrong ends of two magnets,” Tobiak said. “They didn’t even touch each other, but they moved apart really fast once they came close enough together.”
“I think we can assume magic isn’t supposed to look like that,” Terrael said, “because we already know magic hasn’t come back together. Maybe whatever made those blobs stay apart is what’s keeping that from happening.”
“Let’s see if anyone else has made progress,” I said, “teach them the key to the revelation pouvra, and start making plans. We need to work out why they repel each other, we need to learn if that’s what’s keeping magic apart, and we need to find a way to overcome that.”
So we spent the rest of the day working on the revelation pouvra, with the result that all fourteen of us could work it and maintain it by dinnertime, at which point we were all so exhausted we never wanted to think about magic again. Right now I feel as if I’d walked all day instead of riding in the wagon, which isn’t well-sprung but is better than nothing. Though I found out Thistle came back with us, and I suppose I could have ridden her if I hadn’t needed to work with the mages.
I can’t believe I even considered that.