2 Mercy #4
She suddenly cared nothing for studying anatomy.
Rising, she washed her hands in the sink by his shelves and leaned against it.
“I was distracted by the onslaught of cases at first,” she admitted quietly, “so I missed the shift in public opinion. Everything hit at once. First, the objections to Cassandane as Head Tetrarch. Then, Harion gets elected, Marzia’s elected and impeached, the riots in the north and, now, a hitherto-unheard-of beetle plague that Kadra’s still trying to gather more information on.
Allegations of a coup were the last thing we needed. ”
“You saw a chance when they focused on you.” Telmar looked thoughtful. “Distract them while Cassandane and Kadra rebuilt and steadied the government.”
That wasn’t the entire truth of it, but she nodded.
“People like nice, tidy targets.” It just hurts that they chose me at all.
She refused to allow the ache building behind her eyes to grow.
“Little seems to change. I perform in public every day, and some asshole with no knowledge of law, economics, or human decency raves that I’m a northern bitch who got the job by spreading my legs.
Then, all I’ve done gets dismissed. At this point, I’m a liability to Kadra.
This morning, I was accosted by three people, who all wanted something different, and all expected me to ferry word to him.
I feel like I’m pulled in a thousand directions! ”
Telmar opened the door to his study and indicated for the vigile outside to return the corpse to the morgue.
“Well, if you want my two denarii, politics is public theater, and you’re an excellent actress.
It’s one thing to wrest power from the ruling government.
It’s another to maintain it. You’ve borne a lot of ill-will, but you damaged the Order’s credibility. That’s something.”
“More like I’ve made another enemy. Do you know they’d planned an exorcism if I’d lost?”
It was a testament to how horrifying one must be that Telmar flinched. Little surprised him. “Hav?d, they’re more upset than I thought.”
She thought back to Silvus’s insistence that she would never be safe. “Who do you think would win in a contest of information? The Order or the Tetrarchy?”
“The Order,” Telmar said bluntly. “We’re a large nation.
News takes at least a month to travel by wagon from one corner to another.
Unless you can find a Bridger, but they’re rare here.
” At her quizzical look, he explained, “Bridgers are magi of the land of Kashyal to the south, whom we conquered before the fall of our monarchy. We’ve since relinquished it, but… ”
“Relations are poor?” she guessed.
He nodded. “Only a few Bridgers around here, and they cost a small fortune. The Tetrarchy uses one’s services at times, but she’s usually sent on diplomatic matters.
We even have a few specific Bridging points within Edessa and outside the city walls.
The rest of the capital’s warded off to prevent unwanted entry by enemies or a foreign army. ”
“Do you think the Order has a Bridger? Wait, no.” She expelled a defeated breath when Telmar opened his mouth. “Of course they do. Their coffers are at least four times deeper than the Treasury.”
“I’ve heard that they’ve two of them,” he supplied helpfully. “The Tetrarchy’s only one government. The Order’s beliefs span all thirteen lands.”
“Thank you, I feel so much better knowing that they’re all-powerful.
” She slapped the sink’s rim in frustration.
“Gods, I feel like I’m going mad. Do we let these religious fearmongers spew their drivel, pollute minds, and build toward another uprising in twenty years?
Or do we fine the lot of them and have them yell about freedom of speech? ”
Telmar raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you something that’s never helped a government. Wallowing. You’ve endured much, you’ll have to endure more, and your training isn’t going to complete itself.”
“You’re a right spot of sunshine,” she said wryly. “Ever considered becoming a Cleric?”
“I’m sure the gods are grateful not to have me.”
Afternoon veered into evening as Telmar steered her through magical history and practical application.
Each of the thirteen lands had an element of nature that its people could wield offensively and defensively, though the nature of that symbiosis remained elusive.
Whether Ur Dinyé’s storms had begotten its people’s control over lightning or vice versa remained a matter of theological and archeological debate, but there was no denying the pervasive, evolving connection, like there was with Usten and ice.
Unions of magi from different nations resulted in intriguing powers, such as her own, or the odd Illusionist—a magic that had originated in the neighboring land of Errigal—but Ur Dinyé’s magical hegemony remained lightning magi.
Even most Guildsmen who manned supply wagons to the north were at least a Fifth- or Sixth-Tier.
She’d also discovered that she’d been quite inefficient with her use of power.
Not having learned about Thresholds, she’d brute-forced her magic.
Rather like kicking down doors instead of unlocking them, Telmar had remarked at her first lesson.
Magic was a meditative process. One rune to release the Threshold matching the Tier of the rune she intended to use, then came the rune itself.
Nihumb, the rune for “Concealment” that she used to hide the full-body scarring she’d sustained from the Fall, was a Second-Tier illusion rune, requiring a steady trickle of power.
She’d been feeding it a deluge and constantly draining herself of magic by the end of a workday.
Limiting herself to only release the Second Threshold felt incredibly strange.
Her brow furrowed as she made her scars disappear once more. “It’s easier but quieter.”
“Because you aren’t wasting magic.” Telmar touched a bloodied finger to two runes on his armilla and spun a tiny sphere of lightning over his palm, weaving the delicate strands until the little ball pulsed fiercely but didn’t explode outward.
“Control is a magus’s strongest weapon. Take your Magus Supreme.
He’s the strongest in the land, certo, but he’s also a master at control.
If it ever comes down to two contenders for the position, the one with greater mastery of their Thresholds always gets it. ”
Good. A powerful man without control was a danger to everyone.
“Speaking of which,” Telmar eyed her speculatively, “how’s he holding up after his trip to the afterlife?”
She froze, her control slipping enough for scars to crawl back over her hands. She shoved them in her pockets. Distract him. “He’s alive and well as you can well see! Just buried in parchment what with having to be Tetrarch, Magus Supreme, and consequently…” She winced. “Headmaster.”
Every Magus Supreme held the position of Headmaster to pass on their knowledge to the next generation of magi. Unfortunately, most noble families whose scions attended the school weren’t fond of Kadra.
Telmar blew out a breath in commiseration. “I hear parents are complaining that his behavior is unseemly for an educator.”
“They didn’t mind when it was Aelius.”
He offered a tepid shrug and switched tacks.
“Nevertheless, you can’t put me off that easily!
Has the Magus Supreme said nothing of the afterlife?
There’s no record of anyone returning from the dead in Ur Dinyé.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the Order fixates on him now that they failed to get you. Can you imagine if he was Godstouched?”
Her heart plummeted like a stone, tongue freezing to the roof of her mouth.
Mistaking her stillness for confusion, Telmar went on, “Sometimes the Elsar take a shine to those they encounter, you know? Offer them all kinds of gifts in return for service or whatever else gods want of humans. Always a caveat, though. Take Wrath: According to the Codices, he offers men great power, which usually drives them mad.”
She forced out a laugh. “I’d rather take the ability to mass persuade enemies.”
Telmar snapped his fingers. “Coercion. A magic from the land of Ilohe.”