Master Mechanic Mari.
Alain came to a halt, oblivious to the carts and wagons which had to veer around him. Mechanics are shadows. None of them matter. She does not matter. I should walk on and return to my Guild Hall.
Yet, how odd that in this city our paths crossed in this time and place. Some of the elders at Ihris told me that the illusion which is this world guides us in certain ways, sometimes toward wisdom, sometimes toward error. What led me to this street at this time? What led that Mechanic to be on that particular trolley?
How did she make me look toward her?
Did she cause that? She has not looked back. Why attract my attention in such a subtle manner and then avoid even meeting my eyes?
I am on this road for a reason. I feel that. But is this the road to wisdom or error? Is it a road the Mechanic chose for both of us? Or did something else place us both on it, both unwitting?
He knew what the elders here in Ringhmon would say. Alain considered that, thinking of the difficulty those elders would have controlling their outrage, thinking of their dismissive words toward him. If nothing matters, then nothing matters. Why not see where this road leads?
Still, the consequences if he were seen near this Mechanic again…
Uncertain, Alain took another look at the back of Master Mechanic Mari. His expression did not change, but his breath hissed in between his teeth in a momentary reaction that he could not suppress. The foresight had come to him again, once more centered on this Mechanic, and the dark mist was more ominous than what he had seen in the waste. Black as the darkest night and shot with red veins, the mist foretold danger and violence in terms he needed no elder to interpret. Oddly, once again he sensed the storm clouds from his earlier vision, pressing in toward the Mechanic from the fringes of the dark mist. The Mechanic is in peril still. Does it have something to do with this thing which thinks but does not live? What is such a thing? The Mechanic knew when I spoke of it, though she tried to hide it.
Is it some form of Mechanic troll? Trolls do not truly think or live, and Mechanics are not supposed to be able to make such things. Do I not have an obligation to learn if Mechanics can do this, so as to warn my Guild?
And if this Mechanic can control the actions of a Mage such as I, make me think certain thoughts and react to calls which were not made, then that too the Mage Guild must know.
This is not about the Mechanic. She is nothing. I have already given her warning of danger here, a warning she seems not to have heeded. I am doing this for my Guild. He repeated that to himself, but wondered how much of an illusion his rationale really was. At least it served to justify his actions while he decided what to do next.
Why hadn’t the Mechanic taken his warning? Alain felt rising irritation and ruthlessly restrained the emotion. And why, when the other Mechanics he had seen this morning had all been in pairs, did she travel alone? Was she so careless?
She had not acted careless in the waste. Desperate, certainly, especially when she risked them both to confront what proved to be the salt caravan.
What were the Mechanic’s elders like? She had said they were like his own, strange though that sounded. Did they listen to her? Had she passed on the warning, only to have her elders dismiss her words as Alain’s elders had dismissed his?
He suddenly felt certain that this Mechanic had no choice but to go onward to danger. Once again, he knew how she must feel. A strange sensation, worrisome. How to make it go away? How to release the hold she had placed upon him?
She had saved his life. Alain almost smiled before he caught himself. That was it. Several times she had “helped” him. The Mechanic had used that to influence him. No wonder the elders warned against helping.
How to cancel it out? Like canceled like. Power could defeat power. She had saved him, she had helped him. He would help her, perhaps even save her life. That would cancel whatever the Mechanic had done to him. He would be free of her.
The logic had no flaws. This must be wisdom. Alain began walking behind the trolley, staying close enough to keep it in sight, which was easy enough to do given its slow pace. The way out of error led through this Mechanic. He had gotten into it by associating with her, and now he had to get out of it the same way.
* * * *
Mari reflected glumly that the only good thing about this journey was the fact that no one dared share a bench with a Mechanic, so that no matter how crowded the trolley got, Mari still had plenty of room to herself. Unfortunately she also had plenty of time to think: about Senior Mechanics who seemed determined to trip her up, about Mages who didn’t act like Mages were supposed to act and gave warnings about things they weren’t supposed to know, and about a city full of hostile commons who seemed ready to blow like a boiler under too much pressure.
She felt some sympathy for the Senior Mechanics concerned that Ringhmon could erupt like Julesport had, but only a little. Senior Mechanics insisted on the policies which kept the commons not only under control but resenting their inferior status. As an apprentice, Mari had gotten into more than one heated argument with other apprentices over her belief that the commons could be controlled without rubbing their noses in it. She had been gaining converts to her point of view when those arguments were abruptly halted. She was called in for some extremely serious questioning by the Guild Hall Supervisor at Caer Lyn, ending in a very clear order. We know what we’re doing. We have centuries of experience. A few years ago you were living in a hovel among the commons, thinking you were no better than them. You were wrong then and you’re wrong now. Listen, learn and obey.
She had shut up like a good little apprentice, because she wasn’t stupid. But she hadn’t understood then and still didn’t understand why the Senior Mechanics refused to consider a different approach. It wasn’t as though the superiority of the Mechanics was artificial, something made up. The commons couldn’t do the things that Mechanics could. They needed Mechanics. That reality couldn’t be altered by treating the commons with a little dignity.
Nothing is real.
Blasted Mage. He believed some really strange things, and she would do best to forget them as soon as possible. She knew what was real and what wasn’t.
It wasn’t until she had spent a few moments studying the distant shape of a Mage crossing the road ahead of them, easy to make out because of the way the commons left a wide berth around him, that Mari realized she had been looking for a glimpse of one particular Mage. That one ahead couldn’t be him. Too short and too wide.
Why was she looking? He was in the past. Gone. Stop thinking about him. The job was ahead of her. Eyes front. Focus.
Eventually the trolley dragged its weary way to the Hall of City Government. The vast structure looming up across a broad expanse of courtyard was, outwardly at least, the grandest Mari had seen in Ringhmon, with a profusion of columns, balustrades, roof angles and balconies. The courtyard itself was sprinkled with larger-than-life statues of noble-looking individuals who literally looked down from their pedestals on those citizens who were trudging across the open area toward the big building.
Mari slung the strap of her tool kit over her shoulder and joined the stream of humanity. She glanced at some of the pedestals as she passed them, reading inscriptions which praised the persons whose statues surmounted them as “servants of the people.” If there had been another Mechanic with her, Mari would have made some comment about servants looking down on those they were supposed to be serving.
There were plenty of guards standing around, looking brutally alert. Mari paused to consider whether she wanted to worry about carrying a concealed weapon into the city hall. The pistol could be awkward if she needed to squeeze around equipment or take off her jacket to do anything. She didn’t want anyone in Ringhmon knowing she had a weapon if she could help it. Mari knelt down, pretending to adjust the lace of her boot. Bent down like that, Mari could slip her hand inside her jacket and reach her pistol without being seen. She opened a compartment on the outside of her too
l kit and stuffed the pistol in, then resealed the compartment. It wasn’t a great hiding place, but no citizen of Ringhmon was going to be looking in there.
Finally reaching the steps, Mari saw her path blocked by a long line of citizens waiting to be passed by the guards. That was fine for commons. Mechanics lived by other rules, and this was one time she wasn’t the least bit unhappy about that. Mari went to one side and walked up past the entire line until she reached the entry where two soldiers in highly polished breastplates were using their authority to give randomly chosen citizens a hard time.
One of the soldiers caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and swung her way, one hand going to the elaborate hilt of his short sword. “Hold on— ” Then he caught sight of her jacket. “Uh, yeah?”
That was the limit. These goons might be able to abuse the common folk of Ringhmon, but they wouldn’t get to play that game with her. Mari glared at the man. “Did you address me?” she asked.
He got the hint. “Yes, Lady Mechanic?”
“I have a contract with the City Fathers of Ringhmon.”
The guard turned to his companion, who made a baffled gesture. Mari tried to keep her temper at yet another set of people expressing surprise at her presence. The second guard called to someone inside the building. “Gerd, there’s a Mechanic here, says she’s got a contract.”
Gerd came out, his breastplate just as bright as the others, but carrying a Mechanic rifle as his weapon. Mari glanced at it, confirming that it was another repeating rifle. I don’t care what Guild policy is. If I ever get to Danalee I’m going to have a long talk with the Mechanics there about their choice of customers.
How many rifles has the Guild let Ringhmon buy? A city this size shouldn’t have more than a dozen.
I guess that’s where the money went that could have paid for truly impressive buildings in this city.
Gerd eyed Mari doubtfully. “A contract, you say, Lady?”
“That’s correct,” Mari said, annoyed by his skepticism. “Master Mechanic Mari of Caer Lyn.”
“Master Mechanic?” Gerd took one look at Mari’s hardening expression and apparently decided not to pursue that question. “What’s the contract for, Lady?”
“That’s between me and the City Fathers. I’m not permitted to discuss it with anyone else.”
Gerd thought about that for a moment, his brows lowered. Mari imagined she could almost see rusty wheels turning slowly inside his head. “Then it’s a matter for City Manager Polder, Lady. I’ll take you to him. But first we need to search that, Lady.” The guard pointed at her tool bag.
“This is my equipment. My tools. You don’t search it.” Everybody knew that. Commons weren’t allowed access to Mechanic tools, and commons weren’t allowed to search Mechanics.
“I’m sorry, Lady, but there are no exceptions.” Gerd puffed himself up in a routine which he must have pulled on countless common folk. “Those are the rules. No exceptions.”
Unbelievable. That attitude hadn’t developed overnight. Why had Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon, who had seemed to enjoy slapping her down, let the commons in Ringhmon develop that kind of behavior? Did he want to force a Guild intervention here? “You can make any rule you want, but I don’t have to pay any attention to it,” Mari said. “I don’t know why your city is so afraid of its own citizens, but I am a Mechanic. Has Ringhmon totally forgotten the treatment expected by members of the Mechanics Guild? Does Ringhmon wish to offend the Mechanics Guild? Shall I walk back down those steps this moment and return to my Guild Hall along with every other Mechanic in this city to await a formal apology from the City Fathers, and the payment of a large fine, for their actions toward our Guild?” Surely even Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon would back her up on this. No city could be allowed to treat Mechanics that way.
Mari was certain that she hadn’t yelled, just spoken very clearly, yet the two lesser guards and Gerd leaned back as if being subjected to a gale. Gerd, considerably paler now, nodded several times. Even a low-ranking guard supervisor had to realize what would happen to any city put under a Mechanics Guild interdict. It would forbid any repair of existing equipment, prohibit sales of new equipment, halt train shipments, and cut off all electrical power coming from the Mechanics Guild Hall. “Yes, Lady. I’ll take you and your bag to City Manager Polder.”
Mari, having made her point, nodded in agreement. Polder’s name was on her contract, so she knew he was an acceptable person to speak with. “All right.”
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the commons waiting in line doing a poor job of hiding their glee at seeing the guards dressed down. Some even seemed to be directing looks of approval at her. Master Mechanic Mari, champion of the common folk, she thought. Yeah. That’s me. The guards had deserved to get chewed out, but throwing her weight around had always left Mari with a bad taste in her mouth. She also knew that even though Gerd and his pals couldn’t touch her, after she left they could and would take out their public embarrassment on those commons. “There’s nothing you can do about that, Mari. You can’t fix everything.” How many times had Alli said those words to her?
Gerd whispered some instructions to his subordinates, emphasizing his words with angry gestures, then with a bow waved Mari into the building. She followed, trying to walk in a confident and competent manner. Most Mechanics adopted a swagger to their walk, a special way of emphasizing their superiority, but Mari had never been able to do it right. When she tried to swagger, it usually looked as if she were swinging her hips in an awkward attempt to look seductive. That wasn’t quite the professional image that she wanted to cultivate, so Mari had eventually decided to leave the swaggering to others.
Secretly, she had always thought the swagger looked a little silly, anyway, so she stuck to her decision even after some other Mechanics mocked her for walking like a common. They weren’t the sort of Mechanics whose opinions she cared a great deal about anyway.
Gerd led the way to an unadorned doorway and, gulping nervously, announced their presence to those inside.
City Manager Polder proved to be a small, balding man with a sharp face and a sharper smile. Mari wondered why Polder reminded her of the taller and heavier set Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon, then realized Polder’s smile was just as false as the one Stimon had sometimes worn. Twins under the skin, those two.
Mari noticed that Polder dismissed guard leader Gerd with the casual ease of someone used to exercising power. She noticed as well that Polder’s garments were very nice but not ostentatious. The man appeared to have so much power he didn’t worry about trying to impress people. That also echoed a Mechanic’s attitude in a disquieting way.
Polder led the way deeper into the building. “How was your journey to Ringhmon, Lady Mechanic?”
In no mood to be reminded of the misery she had endured, Mari responded frostily. “I’ve had better. My caravan was destroyed by bandits.”
Polder’s false smile didn’t waver in the slightest. “The Waste is a forbidding place. The Empire does a very poor job of policing its side, and the brigands there too often harass those on Ringhmon’s territory, fleeing before Ringhmon’s forces can call them to account. It is fortunate that you were rescued by a band of salt traders.”
It wasn’t surprising that Polder had learned that a Mechanic had entered the city with that group of traders. But why had he made a point of telling her that he knew it?
“You were not the only survivor so rescued, I understand,” Polder continued.
So that was it. He wanted to know more about the Mage who the traders would have said had been with her. Mari made a gesture of indifference. “There was some Mage also from the caravan. He showed up when I found the salt traders.”
“You were not traveling together?”
Mari turned a frown on Polder. No need to lie on this one. Just say what anyone would expect to hear. “A Mechanic traveling with a Mage? Are you seriously asking that?”
“No, Lady Mechanic, of course not
.” Polder cleared his throat. “I must admit to some surprise, Lady Mechanic. Our contract with your Guild specified that we needed someone extremely well qualified for the task. The best to be found in the eastern lands. Your Guild offices in Palandur insisted that you were that person.”
“My Guild had good grounds for saying I met the contract’s requirements.”
Somewhere along the way, two more guards joined them. Mari tried not to look wary as she took in their plain but very good armor and alert movements. No shiny flashiness like the gate guards. These were the sort of guards she had seen clustered around the Emperor in Palandur, guards who were chosen not for looks but for ruthless efficiency. Yet Polder, officially just the City Manager, somehow merited such wolflike guardians.
Mari started to wonder who really ran Ringhmon. The City Fathers might think they did, but Polder seemed more and more like the one in charge.
After passing through several more guarded entries and along narrow hallways lined with identical doors bearing cryptic designations, the small group halted at a wooden door reinforced by bands of high-quality metal. Polder produced a large key and unlocked the door, then rapped several times before entering.
Once inside, Mari could see the reason for knocking on the door. Three more guards were in the room, one positioned behind the door, and all watching them alertly. But then she caught sight of the machine she had come to fix, and her breath caught.
“Impressive, is it not?” Polder asked.
“Very impressive,” Mari admitted. She stepped closer, taking in the size and complexity of the device that dominated the room. She felt her spirits rising, a rush of anticipation at being able to work on this machine and prove her ability to fix it.