Chapter Seven
28 Hantar
Surprisingly, the mages came to the unanimous decision that the problem is conditions aren’t right for magic to come fully together, and we need to work out how to make that change. This is based on the idea that the divergence kathana was meant to alter the conditions under which magic could be worked, and the convergence might not have altered them back properly. Personally, I’m not convinced, but we have to start somewhere, and even if we take this approach and find out it’s dead wrong, we’ll have proved something.
We know those long-dead mages wanted to make it so you didn’t have to be a green-eyed mage to work magic, and that condition’s obviously not in force anymore. But there might be other conditions still in effect, namely the fact that th’an and pouvrin still exist; they couldn’t possibly still be separate if the magic were combined. So we’re going to start by analyzing both to see if they’re different in some fundamental way, because that might be a hint to what conditions need to change. We hope. As I wrote, it’s something.
29 Hantar
Research turned into substituting th’an for pouvrin and vice versa. Maybe this isn’t the combined magic we’re aiming for, but it certainly seems as if they’re different versions of the same thing.
30 Hantar
Nothing new to report. I had to stop the mages from playing around with interchangeable magic this morning and focus on the real task. Time for a new approach.
2 Jennitar
Another big storm. We’re only three days out from Barrekel at this point. I sat in on the strategy meeting this afternoon, though I didn’t have anything to contribute, I just thought I should understand what we intend to do when we reach the city. Mattiak’s plan is to send an envoy ahead of us, announcing Cederic and requesting an audience with Arron Domenessar.
(I forgot. I did have something to contribute; I asked if it didn’t send the wrong message that we were making a request, and Mattiak said “We’ve got three divisions of the Balaenic Army behind us. He’ll know it’s not really a request.”)
Then we will have a royal processional into the city and to Dessani Manor, the seat of government in Barrekel, and we’ll sit down with Domenessar and make our case.
“Can you call out the troops if Domenessar refuses?” Cederic said.
“Possibly,” Mattiak said. “If I ordered them out in my own name, I’d be charged with treason, but since I’m already a traitor—” he grinned—“I don’t have anything to worry about in that quarter. However, Domenessar is the ultimate commander of the Black and Brown Armies, as the King’s representative, and Roebart and Soessen may not want to go against him. And I’m not going to do anything that will pit our armies against each other. We should be prepared for the possibility we will leave Barrekel with no promise of troops in the spring.”
“Without the Barrekellian troops, we’re in a bad position,” Drussik said.
“Nothing we can do about that,” Mattiak said, “except be as convincing as possible. I think, if we can show him Balaen won’t be subjugated by Castavir, and if we can promise his title isn’t in danger, Domenessar will back us.”
“I cannot promise he will remain Lord Governor,” Cederic said, “as I have no idea whether our new government will have such a position. However, from your reports I believe him to be a capable administrator, and I intend to keep all such men and women in power, if only to minimize the pain of transition. So I can guarantee him something.”
“I thought we were going to use her Majesty’s nationality to sway him,” Bronnok said.
“We will,” Mattiak said, nodding at me. “A Balaenic co-regnant with a Castaviran can’t help but make Balaenics feel more comfortable.”
“But will they be offended that I’m Empress-Consort and not Empress?” I said.
“The Empress-Consort has power in the government,” Cederic said. “The Consort may ratify laws, hold hearings, pass judgment in court and declare sentencing, speak in Council, and make political appointments in the Emperor’s name. In some situations, the Emperor and Empress-Consort are expected to counsel together to make a decision. The Emperor has the final say, but he cannot effectively rule without the support of a strong Consort.”
“I hope he’ll understand that,” I said.
“We will make certain he does,” Cederic said.
I’m still not sure I’m fully qualified for this role. I don’t know much about passing laws or sentencing criminals. But Cederic is so completely confident in my abilities I’ve resolved to prove him right. I hope it will be a while before I have to act as Empress-Consort, because I think I have a lot of reading to do.
Reading. I’m going to make Terrael teach me to read Castaviran. We can’t spend all day studying magic, and I’m tired of feeling illiterate (because I am, in Castaviran anyway).
3 Jennitar
Castaviran alphabet very finicky for such a simple, straightforward language. Naturally I’ve been spelling everyone’s names wrong, and I’m going to continue to do so, since we use a different alphabet and the words have to be transliterated anyway.
Also: horse riding lessons for when we go into Barrekel. Three soldiers, plus Nessan, who I think was there for the entertainment. I guess it was a little funny, those poor men trying to help me remember which side of the horse to mount on (there’s a right side?) and how to hold the reins. All of them were no doubt in terror every time the beast sidled away from them with me on it, envisioning what might happen to them if they let the Empress-Consort get trampled or kicked or mauled or whatever the beast might decide to do. They told me she was the most docile mare they had, and assured me she would not try to toss me off, but I saw how the beast looked at me and I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for her moment.
5 Jennitar
Despite the fact that I’ve turned a th’an into a pouvra, we still can’t repeat the trick. (Well, it’s the binding pouvra, and it doesn’t seem to do anything, so maybe I’m wrong that I succeeded at it.) I’m almost grateful we’ll be in Barrekel tomorrow morning, because we’re getting cranky and upset with each other’s failings and I want everyone to leave it alone for a couple of days.
More horse riding. I was allowed to ride by myself today, with none of my helpers leading the beast. I tried not to feel too cocky about my accomplishment. That’s what the beast wants. I think her name is Clover, or Pansy, or something botanical. She has them all fooled.
6 Jennitar
Positive things that came of meeting with Arron Domenessar:
1. We didn’t leave at a run, pursued by his guards.
2.
I can’t think of anything else. I was prepared, as I always am, for the worst to happen. It just turns out I didn’t know what that was.
We reached Barrekel last night, or its outskirts anyway, and made camp on the far side of the city from the military outpost “just in case” as Mattiak said. That should have been my first warning things would not go well. Mattiak is close enough to the commanders of the Black and Brown Armies that he uses their praenomi, but he didn’t want to put us in a position where we might look like aggressors.
I asked him if he was going to meet with them that night, and he said, “I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to suborn them by meeting with them before we’ve talked to Domenessar. As far as they’re concerned, we’re still loyal Balaenic soldiers, and at worst they’re going to wonder why we’re this far east. I’ve sent messengers to let them know I’ll drop by tomorrow.”
“Tell me the truth. Will they follow you if Domenessar forbids it?” I said.
He sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “It will depend on whether I can convince them where their loyalties should lie. Asking them to betray their King, even a weak and foolish King, to follow a foreigner may be too much.”
“But we need those troops, don’t we,” I said.
“Do you want a comforting lie, Sesskia?” he said.
“You know I never do,” I said.
“Then yes, we need those troops,” Mattiak said. “At our current troop strength the Castaviran forces outnumber us three to one. King Dugan seems confident he will be able to join the Helvirite forces to ours, which narrows that gap to just over two to one. Not only do we need Black and Brown, we need them not to fall into the former Empress’s hands.” He took a deep breath and let it out explosively. “You might want to direct a few prayers toward the true God and hope for the best tomorrow.”
So I did. I don’t know if the true God wasn’t listening, or if I’m not good at prayers, or if this is all part of some elaborate divine scheme, but—I’m getting ahead of myself again. I’d like to leave it at this, because I hate remembering, but I swore I’d make this as accurate as I could. So here it is.
We sent off the envoy first thing in the morning, a handful of soldiers and Terrael and two other mages (side note: Audryn told me she gets so anxious when Terrael goes off on these assignments for Cederic she has to go to their tent and lie curled up in a ball until she stops shaking and reliving memories of how he looked when I brought him back to camp. I don’t blame her. Even though I’m fairly confident Domenessar isn’t going to order him tortured, I can imagine how it feels watching him ride away) bearing the double flag and sealed messages in addition to the proclamation Terrael will read publicly.
Everyone in my group of researchers was too keyed up to study anything, not to mention we depend on Terrael to guide our experiments and take notes on what we discover. So I grabbed Audryn and Sovrin and had them help me dress up in my Imperial robes.
I think I wrote they came from a museum in Colosse and are about a hundred years old, but they look as if they’re brand new thanks to a kathana that preserves them. Fortunately no Balaenic is going to realize how out of date our clothes are, not the way they would if I came to Dessani Manor wearing one of those high-waisted, full-skirted gowns in printed cotton and my hair wrapped around a paper cone to make it stand straight up and fountain out from the tip. Some fashions were meant to go out of style.
But I like the Imperial dress, which is a narrow-skirted underdress of fine white silk with successively shorter robes in shades of rose and violet layered over it and secured with a wide sash with tiny crystal beads embroidered onto it. Audryn told me it’s tradition for Empresses to wear their hair loose with this outfit, but I told her in formal settings, Balaenic women wear their hair twisted up in back and secured in a neat roll, and going in with my hair loose would make Domenessar think he could treat me like a child.
So we finally got my hair arranged, and I was walking around, trying to get used to the short steps I had to take because of the skirt, when Cederic came in to change and I had to shoo my friends away. When they were gone, he put his hands on my waist, and said, “It is a pity you do not have time to get dressed twice, because I find myself very interested in removing those robes from your body and exploring what I find there.”
“You’d mess up my hair,” I said, but I put my arms around his neck. “But I will have to change later, and I suppose I could use some help.”
“I volunteer,” he said, with a little smile that dared me to kiss him, so I did. Then he kissed me. And then we were on our way to mussing me completely until I came to my senses and pushed him away. “We have to show self-control, Cederic, we represent an Empire now,” I told him.
“You make it very difficult for me to maintain my self-possessed demeanor,” he said, but he stepped away from me and undressed. “But then I remember it is beneath the dignity of the Emperor for him to sweep his wife off her feet and kiss her thoroughly in public.”
“I’m glad you’re allowed to do that in private,” I said. Cederic’s Imperial clothing is similar to mine, except he has wide-legged loose trousers and a sleeveless shirt to go under all his robes, which are gold as well as violet. “I’m still worried I won’t know what to say to Domenessar. And I feel slightly awkward knowing I stole his wife’s ruby bracelet five years ago, even though he can’t possibly know it was me.”
“Speak the truth,” he said, “though of course not about the bracelet.” He crouched over his trunk and came out with a couple of black velvet boxes, each about ten inches square and two inches deep. “If General Tarallan is correct, and I see no reason to doubt him, Domenessar prizes plain speaking. I imagine he will respect you for giving him direct answers.”
“Unless he thinks I shouldn’t speak to him at all because I’m a woman,” I said.
“In which case there is nothing we can do, since I prefer you remain a woman,” Cederic said. He opened one of the boxes and removed a thick circle of gold. “It would be inappropriate for us to wear the Imperial crowns, as they are for full state occasions, and the semi-formal coronets were lost in the palace’s collapse. These are the Torques of Rule worn by a Castaviran Empress and her Emperor-Consort over three hundred years ago, and while Domenessar will not know their significance, I think they will be a powerful reminder to us of why we are here.”
I accepted the one he held out to me. It’s a semi-circle—more than a semi-circle, almost a full circle, but with a palm-width arc cut out of it—of gold that looks like a braided rope, only rigid. At both of the open ends are golden maple leaves. It has just enough give to slip around my neck, where it settles so the leaves brush my collarbones. It is heavy. If it really is solid gold, and why wouldn’t it be, I could sell it and live off the proceeds for a year. Not that I would—oh, that’s right, it’s actually mine and not something I stole.
It’s going to take me a while to get used to the idea that I’m wealthy now, at least in the sense of having the use of the riches of the Castaviran Empire (if we win). I don’t actually own this Torque of Rule so much as have it on permanent loan. But that’s so close to owning it makes no difference.
I wonder about the wisdom of putting a thief on the throne of two countries. Though…who better than a thief to safeguard the treasures of a kingdom? Something for me to think about. Maybe I need to stop calling myself a thief.
Anyway.
I put mine on, then Cederic and I examined each other’s costumes for flaws (and managed not to examine anything else, thank you very much), then he offered me his arm and we went to where the Imperial party was gathering.
I wasn’t looking forward to riding Buttercup, or whatever the beast’s name is. Even though she’d been well-behaved during my riding lessons, I knew she was just waiting for the best, most humiliating time to drop me on my ass. This processional through the streets of Barrekel would qualify. But I smiled, and let a soldier help me mount—I don’t know where they found a saddle that would accommodate my narrow skirt, but it’s even less comfortable than the regular kind—and gripped the reins the way I’d been told, not clutching them like they’re my worst enemy’s throat, and followed Cederic and Mattiak and the flags out of the camp toward Barrekel.
Barrekel is the second-largest city in Balaen, after Venetry, and it’s growing fast. A lot of people on the east coast would like it to be our capital, since it’s more central (and there’s some concern about Venetry being so close to the Fensadderian border), which means there are people who, without coming out and saying it, would like Arron Domenessar to be Balaen’s King. It has no city wall, just three big arches where the major roads converge on the city, that mark the unofficial city limits. Much as I feel at home in Venetry, I like Barrekel’s architecture, which has a southern influence with all those big windows and covered promenades. There always seems to be some kind of construction project going on when I come here, which tells me it’s a prosperous city—though from all the times I’ve stolen from the wealthy of Barrekel, I already knew that.
People came out to watch us as we passed. They were mostly silent, whispering to each other, but I could hear the occasional louder murmur. That was reassuring, because it was clear some of them had seen the handbills we’d sent on ahead with Terrael’s envoy or heard his proclamation and were enlightening the others. On the other hand, nobody cheered our names, which satisfied Sesskia the thief perfectly, but worried Sesskia the Empress-Consort quite a lot. I’d hoped at least some of them would welcome us, but that wasn’t the case. At least they weren’t throwing things.
We proceeded in this manner through the arch, very slowly, giving the beast no opportunity to turn on me. The crowds were growing thick now, and the murmuring was louder. Then one of the flag-bearers shouted “Make way for Cederic, Emperor of Balaen and Castavir! Make way for Sesskia, Empress-Consort!” and the murmuring got really loud.
Someone shouted “What happened to the King?” and someone else shouted “Who cares?” A few people cheered. A few more people scuffled over who knows what. Cederic still had his usual public face, smooth and impassive, though he was waving at the crowd and nodding at people who didn’t acknowledge him. I guess we were more entertainment than Barrekel had seen in a while.
I’ve never been inside Dessani Manor, but I’ve seen it several times. It’s got a wide colonnade surrounding it, roofed against the summer sun, and its walls are stucco the way about a third of the buildings in Barrekel are, white that blinds you in the full sunlight but looks drab on an overcast day like this one.
We passed through the colonnade into a courtyard surrounded on three sides by a covered porch that led deeper into the manor. We dismounted—I had help, but I still was awkward—and a man dressed in royal livery, with the knot of rank on the shoulder that said he was seconded to Domenessar’s household, indicated we should follow. Our group was arranged in a way that was supposed to convey some subtle hints about each person’s status, but all I knew was I walked next to Cederic and everyone else was arranged around us, which made me feel relieved that an assassin would have to work really hard to get at my husband.
I was surprised at how plain the inside of Dessani Manor was. Some kinds of plain are really just a type of elegance, flower arrangements with a single rose and a pile of exquisitely arranged pebbles, or a simple gold chain whose links are perfection, but this was the kind of plain that says the person who owns the house can’t be bothered with interior décor. I guess that makes some sense, given that this is the center of government and not someone’s home, but in all the other cities where the Lord Governor lives somewhere other than where government business is handled, the government manors at least look as if someone cares about their appearance. I don’t know that it means anything, but it was strange.
We ended up at a pointed archway (this was another thing about the manor, it didn’t have a lot of doors, at least on the ground level, mostly open archways and a few curtained openings) through which we found a chamber about forty feet on a side, with a dais and a carved wooden chair at the far end.
I watched Cederic for cues and stopped when he did. Terrael, at the front of our group, stepped forward and said, “Lord Arron Domenessar, the Emperor of Castavir and Balaen, Cederic Aleynten, and the Empress-Consort, Sesskia of Balaen.” Then the people standing in front of us stepped to the sides, parting in the middle as neatly as a ship’s prow parts the waves, and I got my first look at Arron Domenessar.
He is extremely handsome. I mean, I love my husband, I think he looks wonderful, but objectively, Domenessar is the sort of man people fantasize about. He has wavy light brown hair, a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and the most perfect nose I’ve ever seen. My first thought, on looking at him, was He and the God-Empress would have the most beautiful children. My second thought was He does not look friendly. His perfect mouth was pinched, like he’d smelled something bad, and his brow furrowed in annoyance, which made him look marginally less handsome.
Cederic took three steps forward, so I did too. He inclined his head slightly and said, “Lord Domenessar. Thank you for your welcome.”
I bowed my head too, but said nothing. We both knew he hadn’t welcomed us, unless you count not having us attacked and killed as a welcome. Domenessar sat in silence, glaring at us. Cederic, as usual, looked impassive. I tried to look friendly and open. Then Domenessar said, in an unexpectedly ugly, gravelly voice, “Is this a joke?”
I looked at Cederic, who raised an eyebrow and said, “I assure you, we are entirely serious. I intend to rule Balaen and Castavir, and I assert I will do it more responsibly than Balaen's current king, something I am certain you believe.”
Domenessar stood rapidly. “You come into my audience hall and mock me and my people and you expect my compliance with your farce?” he shouted.
Cederic didn’t flinch. “No mockery was intended,” he began.
“And there you do it again!” Domenessar said, and I realized what the problem was. Cederic’s drawling Balaenic accent sounded exactly as if he were doing it on purpose to copy Domenessar’s speech.
“Lord Domenessar, the Emperor learned our language from someone from Barrekel,” I said, seizing on a lie as easier than explaining about kathanas and risking a true eruption if he were one of those afraid of magic. “His accent is in no way a mockery of you. It truly is how he speaks.”
Domenessar turned on me. “You,” he said, slightly calmer but still with that furrow to his brow. “You call yourself Sesskia of Balaen. What is your surname?”
“I don’t have one,” I said, feeling my stomach begin to churn in anxious anticipation.
“No surname? What is your placename, then?” he said.
“I am from Thalessa,” I began.
“That’s no answer,” he said, his voice growing louder.
“You will not speak to the Empress-Consort in that tone, sir,” Cederic said, his voice icy.
“She’s not my Empress,” Domenessar said. “What is it, woman?”
I stiffened my spine, but I knew the second the words left my lips, it was all over. “Thalessi Scales,” I said.
Domenessar began to laugh. “A fishmonger?” he exclaimed. “And you choose to set her on the throne next to you? Is she really the best you could do in your grab for legitimacy?”
“Sesskia’s birth is irrelevant,” Cederic said. I glanced at him and saw his fist was clenched so hard the tendons were standing out on his wrist. “She is a strong, intelligent woman who will defend your country against all comers. Especially the weak, easily-led man currently sitting on your throne.”
“And you think you can do better, foreigner,” Domenessar said.
“I am certain of it,” Cederic replied coolly. “I have the backing of the Castaviran Empire and I now request the support of the Lords Governor of Balaen. Support my claim, and you will have power in the new government. Choose to follow Garran Clendessar, and I cannot promise your safety.”
Domenessar glared at him. “You, Tarallan,” he said without looking aside. “What are you doing attached to this farce?”
“It’s no farce, Domenessar,” Mattiak said. “The King has thrown in with a madwoman who will bring Balaen to destruction. I’ve given my allegiance to the Emperor.”
“And you’ve given him the forces of the Balaenic Army, no doubt,” Domenessar said. “The more fool you.”
“Then you will not support us,” Cederic said.
Domenessar turned and flung himself back into his chair. “You’ve got balls of solid brass, that’s for sure,” he said, “but you don’t have anything else. You don’t have the right to rule Balaen, and your fishmonger wife sure as hell doesn’t have a claim to it either. But you’re right about one thing: Garran Clendessar’s time is done. And I intend to do something about it.”
“You will raise your standard against your King,” Cederic said.
“Why not? It seems everyone is doing it,” Domenessar said. “Come spring I’ll raise the country against him. They already look to me as their ruler; this will simply make it official.”
“You won’t have the Army,” Mattiak said.
“Neither will you,” Domenessar said. “I’ve already sent word to Generals Gradden and Ellert that they’re not to allow you into the military encampment. You may be Commander General, but they take their orders from me. Come spring we will ride out against that city of yours again, and from there I will bring Balaen under my rule and crush you foreigners under my boot.”
“You are making a mistake,” Cederic said.
“Not as big as the one you have, trying to claim superiority over Balaen when you’ve no authority,” Domenessar said. “Get out of my hall. And be grateful I think so little of your power I don’t just have you killed.”
Without even thinking twice I began to work the fire-rope pouvra. Let him think little of my power when he’s writhing in pain on the floor, I thought. But Cederic turned and looked at me, exactly as if he knew what I was thinking, and shook his head, the tiniest of gestures. I glared at him, but subsided. I still think the fire rope should be an option in the future. Fishmonger.
Cederic said, “I am sorry we could not come to an agreement. Thank you for your time,” and turned and walked away too rapidly, not waiting for our escort to keep formation. I had to trot along in my tiny constrained steps to keep up with him. We swiftly left the manor and as swiftly mounted our horses and rode out of Barrekel. The crowds had dispersed somewhat while we were inside, but gathered again quickly. I half-expected them to intuit what their Lord Governor had said and scream and throw rotten vegetables at us, but they just muttered as they had before, and after what felt like two forevers we were back at the camp and dismounting. I stumbled coming off the beast, and Cederic caught my elbow to keep me from falling, but he squeezed so tightly I had to suppress a gasp. He didn’t notice.
“General Tarallan, you must go immediately to the Barrekellian forces and give orders to its generals,” he said. “We must claim their allegiance now, before they have time to think Domenessar’s instructions over thoroughly.”
“Your Majesty, if Domenessar has already sent Roebart and Soessan their orders, it’s probably too late,” Mattiak said.
“So long as Domenessar has not yet fielded an army, it is not too late,” Cederic said. “We must gain their allegiance to join us when spring comes.”
“But Domenessar’s going to raise his banner in spring,” I said.
“He will try. He will not succeed,” Cederic said. “Now, General. If you please.” It didn’t sound like a polite request. It sounded like the command of an Emperor. Mattiak gestured to Bronnok and Drussik, nodded at Kalanik—sometimes I think they have some kind of mind-reading pouvra—and once more mounted and rode away from the encampment.
“General Kalanik, pass the word that we will ride out in the morning,” Cederic said. “I wish to meet with the quartermasters in half an hour to assess our supply situation. We will proceed to Teliarne to gather the Helvirite Army, and we cannot depend on them to have the supplies our forces will need. Sesskia, come with me.” He took my hand and pulled me along after him, forcing me again to trot to keep up with his longer stride. I yanked on his hand, which didn’t make him release me—he has a grip like a clocker crab—but it did slow him down enough that he looked at me, registered the annoyance on my face, and stopped and let go of me. “I apologize,” he said. “Will you walk with me?”
This time, he offered me his arm, and I hooked my hand around the crook of his elbow and we proceeded, more slowly, to our tent. Once inside, he stepped away from me, sat down heavily on the flat lid of his trunk, covered his face with one hand, and said, “I do not believe I have ever been so close to killing someone as I was in that audience hall. You should not have had to endure such insults.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me that would happen,” I said. “I thought making the point that I’m Balaenic would matter more. I should have realized these nobles won’t respect anyone who doesn’t have ‘ssar’ after their name.”
“The more fools they,” Cederic said. He stood and put his arms around me. “And we cannot make the point that you are the most powerful mage of your country when we do not know if those we speak to fear magic. I have been a fool myself, in every respect. I should have remembered your countrymen are not like mine.”
“We’ll find a way,” I said, not really believing it. “Help me out of this dress, please?”
“I am afraid we have no time for that,” he said with a chuckle.
I grinned at him. “I know, but I’m not going to sit around in this getup all day, and I think we both have at least enough self-control not to attack each other just because we happen to be in our underwear. Well, I do. You’re usually a slave to your lusts.”
He laughed and began untying the sash. “I am so glad to have you with me,” he said, “and I cannot imagine anyone better qualified to rule beside me, common or not.”
“There’s always Joena Lerongis,” I said.
Cederic wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something awful. “Joena has many sterling qualities, but an Empress-Consort should not be quite so….”
“Indirect?” I suggested.
“I was thinking ‘amorally self-centered,’ but ‘indirect’ is accurate,” he said. He shed his own robes and folded them neatly to go back into the trunk. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for preventing me from ascending the throne without a wife. What a nightmare that would be, all those women parading themselves for me to choose.”
“Then your payment will be to come to bed at a decent hour, so I can show you the other benefits of having a wife,” I said. With that we kissed each other and parted, him to meet with the quartermasters, me to find the mages and tell them what had happened. Though Terrael beat me there, so when I arrived it was in time for them to be indignant on my behalf.
It took about an hour for us to exhaust the conversational possibilities of the meeting with Domenessar, and then we spent some time (or rather I spent some time) explaining why turning th’an into pouvrin wasn’t useful; we need to focus on identifying any unique characteristics of each. Jaemis suggested—he’s an expert at transmutation kathanas, which is probably why it occurred to him—we see if we can use magic to turn one into the other, and he thinks he can create a kathana that will reveal the process as it’s happening, so we can clearly see what the differences are. So that’s what we’re doing next.
It’s getting late and Cederic still isn’t here. It’s hard to remember he has all these people bringing problems to him, far more than he ever did in the palace or even in the Darssan, and that he would rather be with me. That makes me feel disappointed rather than angry, but I’m going to stay up a little longer and hope he isn’t so late all we can bear to do is sleep. I think we could both use the closeness of sex tonight.