"We did it!" Pekka exclaimed for about the dozenth time since the mages returned to their hostel. "We truly did it! I didn't think we could, but we did it!"
"So we did." Fernao spoke in classical Kaunian rather than Kuusaman. He still looked pale and drawn, though a couple of mugs of ale had gone some way toward restoring his color. "Not quite the experiment we had in mind when we went to the blockhouse, but success is never an orphan: only failure has to look for a father."
"It was your success," Pekka said. "Everyone else thought only of holding off the Algarvians. You were the one who struck back."
He shrugged. "Ilmarinen here helped. And I have Algarvic blood in me, and I am trained in Algarvic-style magecraft. I hoped they would prove all sword and no shield, and I was lucky enough to be right. It turned out better than I thought it would, in fact."
"It turned out better than I dreamt it could," Pekka exclaimed. She sipped from a small goblet of brandy flavored with almond paste. "The Algarvians will not try to strike us again any time soon, not that way."
Ilmarinen gave her a sour stare. "If you gush any more, my dear, you'll turn into a hot spring."
She reminded herself that Fernao had needed the master mage's help to launch his counterspell at Mezentio's mages. That helped her keep her temper now. "The Algarvians are the ones gushing hot tears now," she said. "We put a lot of their sorcerers out of business today."
"Well, so we did." But even that didn't much impress Ilmarinen. He went on, "It won't bring the Kaunians they killed back to life, though."
"Did I say it would?" Pekka returned. "But it may give them less reason to kill more of them. That also counts for something."
Perhaps because of the brandy, she felt her temper slipping out from under her control whether she wanted it to or not. Had Ilmarinen argued further, she would have scorched him. To her relief, he didn't, or not very much, anyhow. He said, "Aye, I suppose that's true, not that it does the poor blond buggers they sacrificed this time any good." Then he gulped the last of the ale in his mug, slammed it down on the table, and stalked away.
Fernao stared after him. "I almost think he would be happier if we were losing than he is to have struck the Algarvians a solid sorcerous blow," the Lagoan mage observed.
With a sigh, Pekka answered, "I fear you are exactly right. He would feel more needed were that so, and we would be more inclined to make the kind of experiments he wants." She shrugged. "As things are, I am the one who judges what is important and what is not, and I say that what we did here today was one of the most important things we have ever done."
"I think you are right," Fernao said. "We proved we could project that power a long way- a lot farther than we would have tried had the Algarvians not pushed us."
"Everything we have done up till now, we have done because the Algarvians are pushing us," Pekka said. "This time, though, we pushed back."
"Aye." Fernao turned in his chair till he was facing north and ever so slightly west. He pointed in that same direction. "Along this bearing- this is the direction from which their attack came, and the direction along which we aimed our answer. If we sent a dragon flying along this line, I wonder what its flier would see after it got to the coast of Valmiera."
"We ought to do that," Pekka said, and scribbled a note to herself. "We ought to find out what our magic does in the field rather than on the testing range, as we have been using it here."
"When do you suppose we really shall start using it in the field?" Fernao asked. He passed the back of his hand across his forehead, as if wiping away sweat. "I do not know how often any one mage would want to serve as the channel through which that energy runs. Once was plenty for me, I think."
"This strike was a makeshift," Pekka said. "It might be easier if we planned it more beforehand."
"It might." But Fernao did not sound convinced.
Pekka went on, "I cannot answer your question yet, not altogether. I can say this, though: before we start work in the field, we shall have to train more mages to use these spells- ordinary practical mages, I mean, not theoretical sorcerers like the ones we have gathered here. That will take some time." She scribbled another note. "It is something we ought to think about beginning, though, is it not?"
Fernao nodded. "It may well be."
She only half heard the answer. Ordinary practical mages, she thought. Mages like Leino, to whom I just happen to be married. Could he have done what Fernao did there today? He might have- he likely would have- had the presence of mind. Would he have had the strength, the will?
Angry at herself for raising the question in those terms, she knocked back the rest of her brandy. Fernao raised an eyebrow. And what does that mean? she asked herself. Is he surprised to see me guzzle so, or is he hoping I'm doing it to give myself an excuse to do something with him?
Is that why I'm doing it?
Pekka got to her feet- indeed, almost sprang to her feet. The refectory swayed a little when she did: sure enough, she'd had more brandy than she thought. "I," she declared, "am going upstairs to bed. To sleep," she added, so as not to leave Fernao in any possible doubt about what she meant.
If he offered to escort her… I'll have to pretend to be angrier than I am, Pekka thought. But Fernao nodded. "I intend to do the same thing in a little while," he said. "I have not drunk quite enough yet, though."
"Try not to have too thick a head come morning," Pekka warned. "You will need to draft a report on what we did today."
"I remember," Fernao answered, and Pekka had to fight against a giggle. The Lagoan mage might have been Uto dutifully saying, Aye, Mother. Pekka got to her feet and hurried away. She'd had that thought about Ilmarinen a good many times. What did it mean when she also started having it about the other mages with whom she worked? That you think being in charge of them means mothering them? She wasn't sure she liked that. She was sure they wouldn't if they found out about it.
She almost ran to the stairway, as if running from her own thoughts. Had she had long legs like Fernao's, she would have gone up the stairs two at a time. As things were, she just climbed them as fast as she could. That proved plenty fast to startle two people embracing halfway up to the second floor.
Ilmarinen and… Linna? Pekka wondered if she'd drunk enough to start seeing things. Then Ilmarinen demanded, "Did you have to come by at the most inconvenient possible moment?" and his annoyance convinced her her imagination hadn't run wild after all.
"I didn't intend to," Pekka answered. "I am allowed to go up to my own room, you know."
"I suppose so." Ilmarinen sounded as if he supposed nothing of the sort. He turned back to the serving girl. "And how would you like to go up to my own room?"
"Better that than blocking the stairway," Pekka said.
Linna didn't say anything right away. Pekka hoped she wouldn't have to listen to Ilmarinen begging. That didn't suit her image of the way a master mage should act. Of course, a lot of the things Ilmarinen did failed to suit her image, and he cared not a fig. But humiliation seemed somehow worse than outrageousness.
Then Linna answered, "Well, why not? I've already come this far." Ilmarinen beamed and kicked up his heels like a frisky young reindeer. Pekka thought he would have carried Linna up the stairs if she'd shown any sign of wanting him to. The next question was, would he measure up once he lay down beside her? For his sake, Pekka hoped so. If he didn't, he was liable to be devastated.
She let the two of them go up the stairs ahead of her. Now that she'd escaped Fernao, any more rushing seemed pointless. She walked past Ilmarinen's chamber on the way to her own, but made a point of not listening to whatever was going on in there. Officially, it was none of her business. And Ilmarinen's attitude the next time she saw him would tell her everything she needed to know, anyhow.