4 Coloine (continued)

“I—it’s my pleasure, and your company is an honor I don’t deserve,” I said, and she beamed more widely at me and squeezed my hand so hard parts of it went numb.

“Now we should go, and don’t worry, everything’s been arranged,” she said, so of course I really started to worry. I’ve been thinking about this, and I’ve concluded that there’s really no way I could have guessed what she had in mind, since our cultures are so different, but I should definitely have been more on my guard than I was. Especially since everything she said suggested that she was deep in some delusion. If I’d tried harder to work out what that delusion was, things would have gone differently—but, then, I’m alive, and so is Aselfos, so I’m not going to reproach myself too much.

The God-Empress linked her arm with mine and skipped—yes, actually skipped—out of the room, forcing me to skip along with her in those stupid silver heels. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall and take her down with me. When we came to the checkerboard floor, she went from skipping to hopping, always landing on the black marble. “It’s not a moss day, can’t touch the moss!” she said happily, and I stumbled along after her. Even so, I was thinking this was far from the worst thing she could do to me. And that was true, right up until we came to our destination.

The room was almost identical to the throne room, with the black and white patterned floor and the crystal lamps, though the walls were painted dove gray instead of mirrored, and of course there was no throne. Instead, there was a dais of black marble at the far end of the room, surrounded by men wearing chicken helmets and knee-length black tunics all standing with their backs to it.

The God-Empress slowed from her manic hopping to a slow, measured walk with an erratic beat: step-slide, step, step, slide-step, over and over again, and after a few missteps, I was able to follow her. It took several minutes for us to reach the dais this way, which gave me plenty of time to speculate on what would happen when we got there.

When we were within fifteen feet of it, I was able to look more closely at the men and realized that they were wearing full armor under their poorly-fitting black tunics, which were thin linen stretched taut over the metal plates at their shoulders and chests. All of them were focused straight ahead, not on us, which was probably safer for them and for me; I was just as happy not to be noticed by them.

The God-Empress brought me up the three steps to the top of the dais and gently pushed me one way and then the other until I stood exactly where she wanted me, which was to my eyes a random spot left of center. She took my hand again and stood next to me, and we waited. My feet became sore, but I was afraid to shift my weight, because my mad companion was motionless, but poised as if listening for something.

“Don’t worry, he won’t forget,” she whispered, and I was trying to decide whether I should ask her for clarification when a concealed door in the dove-gray walls opened, and more soldiers in black tunics came through single-file and marched toward the dais. Three men dressed in the costumes I’d seen courtiers wear when they attended the God-Empress in her throne room, but entirely in black, walked in the center of the line. I didn’t recognize two of them, but the man in the middle was Perce Aselfos.

He has a handsome face, with a strong nose and deep-set brown eyes, but his appearance was marred by the beginnings of a large bruise on his right cheekbone and a split lower lip. He looked furious. The other two men watched him warily, exactly as if they expected him to bolt, or hit one or both of them.

“Oh, Perce, you look wonderful,” the God-Empress said in a breathless, happy voice. “Come up here and stand next to Sesskia.”

Aselfos glowered, but came up the steps and stood where the God-Empress pointed. The God-Empress took my hand, then Aselfos’s hand, and to my surprise put them together. I clasped his hand automatically. It was dry, and limp in mine. The God-Empress beamed, and took a few steps back. “What a perfect day!” she said. “Don’t you think it’s a perfect day, Sesskia? I’m so pleased for you both.”

I realized what she had in mind, and jerked my hand away, or tried to; Aselfos’s grip became suddenly firm, and he gave me a warning look. “You want us to be married?” I said.

I might have sounded the tiniest bit shrill, because the God-Empress’s eyes narrowed, and she said, “No, Sesskia, you want to be married. I only agreed to witness your marriage vows. You’re not having second thoughts, are you? Because I really am so happy for you, and I would hate for this perfect day to be ruined.”

I glanced at Aselfos again, and he shook his head, almost imperceptibly. My hand was starting to sweat. “I don’t—” I began, then words deserted me.

“Marriage is a sacred act, Sesskia,” the God-Empress said, waggling a perfect finger with a rose-enameled nail in front of my eyes. “You don’t want to spurn God’s blessing, do you?”

“I—” A delaying possibility suggested itself. “I am an otherworlder, Renatha, and I know nothing of your marriage customs. Would you explain them to me? Because I think making those vows without understanding them would be disrespectful to God.”

Aselfos looked at me as if I were as mad as the God-Empress. “Of course, Sesskia, I should have realized!” the God-Empress said. “It’s really very simple. You and your beloved come before God—actually, most people come before a priest, but naturally I’m happy to perform the service for you, because you are God’s choice—and declare your names, so that God knows who stands before Her.

“Then each of you announces your intent to marry, and God asks you to name the man or woman of your choosing. And of course you say each other’s names, because it would be silly to want to marry someone who didn’t want you, yes?

“Then God asks some questions to be sure you understand how serious it is and tells you what the law settles on you as a married couple. And then you promise loyalty and love to each other, though you’re free to say it however you like. And then you’re married! Isn’t that beautiful?”

It would be if Cederic were here, I thought. I was starting to panic. Obviously Aselfos had no interest in marrying me, and this was all some sick fantasy the God-Empress had dreamed up to “reward” one or both of us. I had no idea how binding this ceremony was, if neither of us meant it—and what happened if I swore marriage vows to someone when I was already married to someone else?

to be continued…

4 Coloine

It’s been the strangest day. I don’t know what to make of it. Especially the part where I felt I played a vicious game with the God-Empress, and may have won—it’s hard for me to tell when I don’t understand Castaviran culture well. Or, possibly, at all. I really don’t want to think about it, but I can’t leave things out of this record just because they’re unpleasant and uncomfortable and frightening.

But I have to get to the question of the worlds coming together first. After our lovemaking last night, which felt a little desperate, me wanting something good to hold onto and Cederic showing more than he probably intended of how afraid he was for me, we lay together and talked for a very short time about the question of what the worlds would look like when they were reunited.

Cederic, surprisingly, said, “I don’t know,” and then went silent for about a minute. Then he said, “You said the place where Thalessa is in our world has never been successfully settled, correct?”

“That’s what the mages from Helviran said,” I said.

He was silent for a bit longer. “And the ruins all overlap,” he said, but it sounded like he was talking to himself, so I didn’t respond. Then he rolled out of bed and began dressing.

“What are you doing?” I said. I felt miffed at his abruptness.

“I am going to get some maps,” he said. Then he saw my face, and closed his eyes briefly—he looked like he was wrestling with himself. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I am not used to having to explain myself to anyone. Let alone to the wife I am about to leave alone in our bed for the sake of an academic pursuit.”

“I think there are a lot of things we’re going to have to learn to understand about each other,” I said. “I’ve been alone for a long time, and I’m used to doing things without consulting anyone, too.”

He smiled at me—a real smile, not that thin little twist of the lips, a smile he saves for me—and said, “I intend to retrieve some maps that may help me answer your question. I further intend to bring them here rather than examine them in the circle chamber, so I can make use of your perceptions. Will you pardon my abruptness?”

“Of course,” I said, and got out of bed and began to dress. “I’ll be waiting.”

I didn’t have to wait long. Cederic returned with what turned out to be small versions of the large maps we’d used the day he figured out I was from the “shadow world.” He spread the Castaviran map out, then overlaid it with the Balaen map. “Where did you get this?” I said.

“I had Master Serelssor make copies of the large ones. She has a very accurate eye,” Cederic said. “Look at this. None of the major cities overlap any others. In your world, what exists where Colosse lies?”

“Nothing,” I said, starting to feel excited but not sure why. “There are a lot of smaller towns along the river, but none of them have ever grown very large. Except Garwin, and that’s much farther south.”

“Unusual, since river traffic usually encourages settlement,” Cederic said. “Can you think of any other cities located where Castaviran cities are?”

“None,” I said. “What does it mean?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, and I—”

“Don’t want to guess,” I said, grinning at him.

He smiled back. “I am rather predictable in some ways, aren’t I?” He turned his attention back to the map and touched it, right at the center of Colosse. “Though it seems as if each world has left space for its counterpart. And the ruins overlap exactly—that is the greater mystery.” He touched three of the X’s, one after the other, then let the maps roll up and stared off into the distance for long enough that I became impatient, and said, “What will you do?”

He looked at me, and his smile became teasing. “I will remove every scrap of clothing you are wearing,” he said, “and explore your body until you forget everything except the feel of my skin against yours, and then I will make you cry my name—” at which point I pulled his shirt off over his head and kissed him, and then he did exactly as he’d promised.

Just remembering that makes my body respond as if he were still touching me, which I wish he were. But he and Vorantor are working late, and while I still intend to spend the night here in his room, I don’t know when he’ll join me. And now I have no more excuses; I have to write what happened with the God-Empress today.

to be continued…

3 Coloine

She’s called me to attend on her tomorrow. I came back here to change my shirt, since Jaemis managed to spill soup on me at lunch. Small comfort that I drenched him in retaliation, but we both ended up laughing, and I was still laughing when I reached my room and found the note pinned to my locked door.

I panicked, and that’s how Audryn found me about an hour later, sitting on my bed clutching the note in my hands, once again seeing the dead collenna master’s face and unable to convince myself that it wasn’t going to happen to me or, true God forbid, someone I love. Cederic’s assurance that mages are not easy to kill was no comfort, because I still haven’t seen a mage perform a single martial th’an or kathana, except for Cederic’s experimental shield that he’s only taught to the God-Empress’s battle mages.

She—Audryn—tried to talk to me, and I don’t remember what I said, but she left about twenty minutes ago and I had to write something or go mad with fear. I shouldn’t be this frightened. I can defend myself against the God-Empress’s soldiers, and she never has those battle mages with her, who knows why, but I’m stronger than this, I know I am.

It’s been a while since I wrote the last, and I feel better, probably because Audryn came back with Cederic, and he knelt in front of me and drew me into his arms, completely disregarding Audryn’s presence, and whispered comforting things to me until I could unclench my hands from the note and put my arms around his neck.

I could tell from how tense his muscles were that he was not nearly so calm about this as he wanted me to think, but that, strangely, made me feel better—that he doesn’t want his worry to overwhelm me, to suggest that this is something I can’t endure. And I can. I’ve faced things beside which the God-Empress is nothing. All she can do is kill me; she can’t destroy who I am.

Finally, when I was rational again, Cederic kissed me, stood up, and told me to rest for half an hour before returning to the circle chamber, and that Audryn would come for me when that time was up. Then he left without glancing at Audryn, whose very expressive face as she watched him leave was utterly stunned, but she went away without saying a word. I’m sure she’ll have plenty of words for me when she comes back.

And now I’m going to lie down, and practice breathing quietly in between working the concealment pouvra and improving the speed with which I can do it. I doubt that’s what Cederic had in mind when he told me to rest, but it will calm me more than napping would, because it makes me feel as if I’m learning to defend myself. He was right when he said once I could become a ghost if I had to, and I’m not going to be afraid of the God-Empress anymore. My friends can defend themselves, and I can too.

1 Coloine, evening

That was the strangest fight I’ve ever witnessed. Cederic won, but in a way Vorantor can’t use to accuse him of insubordination. And that is because my husband—yes, I’m calling him that, and it makes me tingle all over when I do—my husband is brilliant, and frankly, Vorantor never stood a chance once Cederic decided to stop pretending he was anyone’s subordinate. The situation is too serious for that.

But, back to the beginning: not only didn’t I see Terrael at breakfast, I didn’t see Cederic either. I didn’t think that might mean they were together until Audryn and Sovrin and I arrived at the circle chamber and they weren’t there either.

Vorantor was, and he looked so smug I think I could have popped him if I had a long enough pin. He was standing at one of the walls, writing something and holding forth to a couple of the Sais, and he caught my eye and smiled at me. It was a nasty little smile, though it didn’t last long, and I didn’t need the hypothetical mind-reading pouvra to know what he was thinking: otherworlder, your side has lost.

So I started doing pouvrin, fire and water at the same time to make great clouds of steam, which definitely caught his attention, though he pretended not to notice me. The other mages didn’t have any problem coming to admire my work, and for about half an hour I demonstrated what I could do (not the secret pouvrin, but the other things) and we discussed possibilities for other pouvrin.

I need to give Vorantor’s mages credit, and remind myself that about two-thirds of them used to be Darssan mages; they’re all bright, and talented, and every one of them takes the coming disaster seriously. And it was fun to have an excuse not to work, since we didn’t have Terrael to explain what he was learning from the Codex. Regan, one of the Sais, had some clever ideas about adapting the see-in-dark pouvra to enhance hearing, and I think he might be on the right track, so we arranged to work together during the rest periods Cederic made Vorantor believe were his idea.

So, as I said, we did this for about half an hour, and then Cederic came in alone and went straight to Vorantor, who pretended not to see him at first, then greeted him cheerfully, saying, “I was afraid you might not return, old friend.”

“Why would I not return?” Cederic said, raising an eyebrow as if this were a completely absurd question.

“Well, you did seem upset about learning what a mistake you’d made,” Vorantor said, smiling even more broadly. “I’m glad you didn’t let your pride lead you to make another.”

“No, Denril, I can admit I was wrong,” Cederic said, very pleasantly. “I should have listened to you from the beginning. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

“No, of course not,” Vorantor said, clapping Cederic on the shoulder. “As I said, I have some ideas for your research. I’m grateful you were willing to follow the God-Empress’s suggestion and put yourself under my supervision. I think that’s better for everyone, don’t you? Given as how you’re two years behind the rest of us.”

“Of course, Denril,” Cederic said. “Tell me what you’d like me to do.”

At this point I was becoming suspicious. Cederic sounded far too affable, and I couldn’t believe Vorantor didn’t suspect something. But I couldn’t figure out what Cederic’s plan was.

Then Terrael came in, holding the Codex, and since he’s even worse about controlling his face than Audryn is—really, I don’t know how the two of them managed not to reveal their mutual feelings to each other—I could see immediately that Terrael and Cederic were in collusion. Vorantor still didn’t suspect anything. My estimation of his intelligence dropped by a lot today.

“Sai Vorantor,” Terrael said, “I’ve translated a bit more, and I think it’s important.”

I glanced at Audryn, who had the tiniest wrinkle to her brow. “When did he have time to translate more?” I whispered.

“He didn’t,” Audryn said. “I can guarantee that.”

“Master Peressten, thank you for joining us,” Vorantor said in that patronizing tone he takes with the Darssan mages and especially with Terrael; Vorantor doesn’t take him seriously because he’s so young, despite Terrael’s brilliance. “What have you learned?”

“Well, you know about Nialak’s Conjecture, yes?” Terrael said with such wide-eyed eagerness I was certain Vorantor would realize Terrael was playing him. Vorantor looked mystified.

“He theorized that mages have inherent abilities that allow them to manipulate th’an,” Cederic said in a low voice, sounding as if he were prompting Vorantor.

“Of course,” Vorantor said. “He…naturally, he was wrong.”

“Only for this world,” Terrael said. “The Codex reveals that in the time before the disaster, it was true. And it remained true for mages in Sesskia’s world. Just not in ours.”

“Oh, of course,” Cederic said. “You are correct, Master Peressten, that is important.”

“Yes,” Vorantor said, but he sounded uncertain.

Cederic looked at him in surprise. Really, someone had to notice how unusually animated he was. “Denril, you see the implications, don’t you?”

“I—well, of course,” Vorantor said. “It’s an example of how the magic reformed in each world.”

“No,” Cederic said, “no, it gives us part of the structure of the original kathana, of how they intended to reshape magic. Obviously they wanted to remove the requirement that someone have inherent ability to use magic. To make it more widely available. Sesskia’s world is made of the things they thought interfered with magic as it should be. I mean no slight on your world, Sesskia,” he said, and I had to admire how he could speak to me without a trace of the love that had been in his voice last night, even as his seeming indifference left me feeling a little hollow. I nodded in acknowledgement.

“So we’re justified in allowing that world’s destruction,” one of the Sais said, and I felt like slapping him with five gallons of water in the face, which is a lot more painful than you’d think. “Since it’s essentially spare parts.”

“I am sorry to contradict you, but I think perhaps you have not seen the implications of this. Our Codex-summoning kathana only worked because of Sesskia’s magic,” Cederic said, his tone of voice not at all humble. “Two kinds of magic in tandem. Magic calls to magic, didn’t you say, Master Peressten?” Terrael nodded eagerly. “The worlds are not trying to obliterate each other. They’re trying to meld.”

Vorantor gaped. “Cederic,” he managed, then cleared his throat and regained his smirk. “Old friend, I think you haven’t quite learned your lesson,” he said in a low, confidential voice. “Are you so unable to swallow your pride that you insist on challenging me? Again?”

“I’m surprised that you could accuse me of that, Denril,” Cederic said, “since it is your research that proves my assertion. At least in part.”

He went to one of the boards—I forgot to mention this, because I can’t read their language and that means most of what’s on the walls is a mystery to me, but about a third of the wall space is taken up by Vorantor’s explanation of what will happen when the worlds come together and notes for the kathana that will protect as much of this world as possible.

Anyway, Cederic went to the wall and used his sleeve to scrub out some of the writing, which made Vorantor begin to protest. “No, I am sure you will agree when you see this,” Cederic said, and then he began writing, and I won’t even try to reproduce what he said, it was so far beyond my comprehension. But Vorantor stopped in mid-rant, and the other mages were nodding, and Terrael, who’d come to stand beside us, couldn’t stop grinning.

“Did you plan this?” I whispered in his ear.

“Sai Aleynten found me this morning,” he said, blushing, which told me Cederic had found him while he was sneaking back to his own room from Audryn’s, “and told me what I needed to say. None of it came from the Codex. There’s no such person as Nialak. I think Sai Aleynten was down here studying Sai Vorantor’s research early this morning.”

“So he didn’t get any sleep last night,” I said, unthinking, and then wished the floor would swallow me up, but my gaffe didn’t register with them, probably because they were paying closer attention to Cederic’s explanation than I was. I really want to tell them. I’d like to tell everyone. Damn the God-Empress.

“I am sure you would have gotten there in the end,” Cederic said when he wound down, “but as long as I have agreed to assist you, I should no doubt do my utmost to aid this endeavor. Of course my skills are at your service.”

Vorantor walked to Cederic’s side in a daze. “Melding,” he said.

“No shame in being wrong, is there?” Cederic said cheerfully, but his eyes were cold, and Vorantor flinched away from him before he could gain control of himself.

“Of course not,” he said. “How fortunate that you were here to aid me.”

“As I swore,” Cederic said. “Now, if you’ll direct me, I’m certain you understand exactly what the implications of this new development are, and we’re all eager to hear what you want us to do.”

Vorantor glared at him, but what could he say? Cederic had behaved with perfect adherence to the letter of his vow. “If I could make a request,” Cederic added, “I would be interested in working on the problem of how our magic can work with Sesskia’s to encourage melding rather than destruction, but of course the decision is entirely yours.”

“I—certainly, since you seem familiar with the concept,” Vorantor said, and began handing out assignments. He was desperately trying to regain control, but it was too late—every person in that room knew who was really in charge.

We spent the rest of the morning laying the groundwork for our new research, the Darssan mages and Cederic and I, talking about what we already knew about the similarities and differences between our magics. Except for Terrael, who followed Vorantor around, reading things out of the Codex to him in a cheeky voice just this side of insubordination, but Terrael is the one person Vorantor can’t afford to alienate, not and still have the information in the Codex. Vorantor, of course, is designing (redesigning) the kathana, because that’s where the glory is, but no one in our group cares about that.

This afternoon I wanted to ask Cederic what it meant, in practical terms, that the worlds were going to meld—does that mean Thalessa will join this world, or Colosse join mine? What will this single world look like? But there was never time, because after lunch he immediately began directing us in practical matters, setting half our mages to creating th’an that would perform pouvrin and the other half, with me, trying to teach me to manifest th’an without going through the exhausting process I did for the summoning kathana, which would simply take too long.

Cederic asked Vorantor’s mages, the ones timing the coming catastrophe, how much time we have left, and it’s much shorter than it should be. Cederic looked grim about that and said (to me, privately) that he believes our using magic is not just causing the convergence, but accelerating it. But there’s no help for that. Without magic, the worlds will simply collide and annihilate each other. So what we’re doing is both saving and destroying us.

So I’ll have to ask him tonight, right after I pounce on him for deciding we should be married without consulting me first. I love him, and I think he’s brilliant, but it hasn’t occurred to him that one of us is capable of passing between our rooms without anyone being the wiser. Even so, I’m waiting until well after everyone’s retired before going to him. But we’re spending the whole night together. We might even sleep for some of it.

After breakfast

I had another shock just now, and I’m still working out what to do about it.

Terrael was not at breakfast. Audryn and Sovrin were at our usual spot when I arrived. Audryn looked radiantly happy. I hoped I didn’t. I hadn’t decided if I should tell them what had passed between me and Cederic. Sovrin I could trust not to give me away, but Audryn has a very expressive face, and while she would carry my secret to her grave as far as telling anyone went, I wasn’t sure she could keep her face under control.

So I decided first to tackle Audryn, who at least knew that I knew something had happened. “Well?” I said.

Audryn grinned and hugged me. “Thank you for interfering in our business,” she said. “I can’t believe neither of us knew what the other was feeling. Who knows how long that might have gone on?”

“And they spent the night together. The whole night,” Sovrin said with a meaningful smirk.

“I don’t know what that means in your culture,” I said, trying not to blush.

“It means they’re married,” Sovrin said, and Audryn blushed harder than I was trying not to. “Married, but without the public vowing, of course.”

“Married,” I said.

“It’s symbolic of the commitment you make to each other,” Audryn said. “Because you’re most vulnerable when you’re sleeping, and sharing a bed with someone means you trust that person with your safety, physical and spiritual.”

“I see,” I said.

“And every day is a new beginning,” Sovrin said, “so waking together is like a promise to meet the future as one.”

“That’s…beautiful,” I said. “So what are the public vows for, if you’re already married?”

“That’s the legal commitment,” Audryn said. “You speak them in front of a priest during a special ceremony and they grant certain legal and social rights. Who knows if that will even be possible for us any time soon, what with everything that’s happening! But we didn’t think we should wait, given how uncertain the future is. Like you said, Sesskia, we don’t want to waste any more time.”

“That makes sense,” I said, but my voice sounded distant to me, because I felt as if I might fall over if someone breathed on me the wrong way. He sees us as married. He’s pledged himself to me, as we’d say in Balaen.

And the shock isn’t that he took that step without explaining it to me first, which bothers me a little—the shock is that it doesn’t bother me more. That the idea of being married to Cederic, even so soon, fills me with joy. Maybe it’s like Audryn said, that we don’t know how much time we have, but I want nothing more than to be with him for the rest of my life, even if that’s only a few more weeks. I am his foundation, and he is mine.

I don’t have more time before I have to be in the circle chamber, or I would write about re-reading my early entries in the other book and laughing over how much Cederic annoyed me. I’m nervous on his behalf right now, wondering how he’s going to behave to Vorantor, how he’s going to reclaim his reputation. But Cederic is the greatest mage living—I don’t think it’s just my love for him saying that—and he won’t let Vorantor’s pride and jealousy stop him from saving as much of this world as he can. He might even manage to save some of mine as well.