In a very strange way, what he was saying seemed to make sense, or at least seemed to sustain a consistent logic, if logic was the right term for something that involved walking through walls. “We can get out the same way that you got in?” Mari asked. “Through imaginary holes in the imaginary wall?” She wondered how her Guild would feel about seeing that in her report. Actually, she didn’t have to wonder, but she also wasn’t about to turn down a chance to escape.
The Mage took a deep breath and swayed on his feet. “No.”
“No?”
“Unfortunately—” Alain collapsed into a seated position on the cot next to her—“the effort of finding you has exhausted me. There were several walls to get through. I can do no more for some time. I am probably incapable of any major effort until morning.” He shook his head. “I did not plan this well. Maybe the elders are right and seventeen is simply too young to be a Mage.”
Mari stared at him. “Are you telling me that you came to rescue me, following a metaphorical thread through imaginary holes, but now that you’re in the same cell with me you can’t get us out?”
“Yes, that is correct. This one erred.”
“That one sure did. Now instead of one of us being stuck in here, we’re both stuck in here.”
The Mage gave her a look which actually betrayed a trace of irritation. He must have really been exhausted for such a feeling to show. “I do not have much experience with rescues. Are you always so difficult?”
Mari felt a sudden urge to laugh, but cut it off when the laughter made her head throb painfully. “To be perfectly honest, yes. You’re not the first guy to ask me that, by the way. Thank you for coming. Thank you for getting this far. At least I have company. Unless I’m insane or drugged and imagining all of this, of course. Maybe you’re not real.”
“I am real,” Mage Alain said. “You are not.”
“You know, that’s really not helping.” Mari spread her hands. “I have no way of getting out of here. You don’t have any more tricks?”
“Tricks?”
“Sorry. What do you call…?”
“Spells.” Alain shook his head, his weariness again obvious to Mari. “Small ones. I cannot open a hole large enough for either of us to pass through. Not for some time. The effort required grows rapidly as the size of the opening increases.”
“Well, sure, that makes sense. Does it increase by the square like an area measurement or a cube for volume or is it some exponential progression?”
It was his turn to look at her, saying nothing, for a long moment. “I do not know,” Alain finally answered. “Do those words have meaning?”
“Yeah. I guess Mages don’t spend much time on math, huh?”
“Math?”
“Never mind.” It was as if she and Mage Alain occupied two entirely different worlds even though they were sitting side by side on the cot in this cell.
“Do you have any Mechanic…tricks?” Alain asked her.
“I haven’t come up with any yet that can get us out of here.” Mari looked glumly toward the door of the cell, then her eyes fixed on the lock. “You can’t make another big imaginary hole for a while, you said. Can you make a little imaginary hole right now?”
He followed her gaze. “Yes. It will be very tiring, but I feel certain I can do that. Where do you need it?”
She stood up carefully to prevent another bout of dizziness, then walked over to the door and pointed at the armor plate protecting the lock. “Right here. About this big,” Mari added, outlining an area with her cupped fingers. She didn’t stop to think about how much sense any of this made. As long as it worked, it could be pure crazy. If she could get at the back of the lock, maybe she would be able to jimmy it open before the Mage’s imaginary hole disappeared.
“If you believe this to be important, I shall do so.” Mari watched nervously as the Mage narrowed his eyes and seemed to concentrate, then opened his eyes wide. “Hurry with what you wish to do. I cannot hold it long.”
She turned back to the door, and stopped, aghast. There was a hole there, a little bigger than she had asked for. But there wasn’t simply a hole in the armor plate. There was a hole right through the plate and the back of the lock and the lock itself and out the other side of the door. She could look through into the passageway.
Mari just gazed blankly for a second, unable to accept what she was seeing, then abruptly remembered that she needed to do something. Reaching into the hole with a fear that it would vanish and leave her hand embedded in steel, Mari fumbled for the lock bolt, which now hung in the door jamb unsupported by anything where the lock mechanism had been. She pulled out the heavy bolt, hastily looked for anything else protruding into the frame from the door, then yanked her hand free and dropped the bolt as if it were on fire. “Done.”
The Mage sighed and relaxed. The hole vanished at the same moment the sheared off bolt hit the floor inside the cell with a muffled thud. Mari studied the door, which once again looked and felt completely solid. But the end of the bolt still lay on the floor where Mari had dropped it. She pushed against the door and felt it begin to swing open. I am insane. I have to be. This can’t be happening. She pushed at the door again and it scraped open a little more. But if I’m going to imagine I’m escaping, I might as well go through with it.
She pushed open the door far enough to be able to stick her head out, searching quickly to confirm no guards were in sight, then looked back at the Mage, who was still sitting slumped on the cot. “Don’t you want to come along?”
The Mage eyed her. “You want me to accompany you.”
“Yes, I want you to accompany me! Do you think that I’d leave you in this cell? Blazes, Mage, I’m not that difficult! Come on!” He rose and walked after her as Mari slid out through the partially opened door. She paused, looking and listening for any sign of guards, but could detect nothing. “Shouldn’t they have someone watching the cells?”
Mage Alain stopped beside her. “Perhaps they do not want underlings in a position to hear things their prisoners may say. This is not a large dungeon, and seems to have had only you as a prisoner, so perhaps it is reserved for certain special needs.”
“That makes sense.” Mari took a couple of cautious steps, glancing through the grate in the door of the cell next to hers. She froze. No other prisoners were there, but carefully placed in the center of the cell floor was her tool kit. She pulled at the door, finding it locked securely, then looked around for a key. “I don’t believe it. We found my tools and we can’t get to them.”
“Your tools?” Mage Alain asked.
“They’re important! I need that tool kit.” She turned to the Mage, her hands upraised in a pleading position. “Those tools are…they’re my spells. And my…elders will give me a very hard time if I lose them. Please, Mage Alain, can you make a hole in that door’s lock as well? Just for a few seconds? Please?”
Mage Alain eyed her. “You need these things to cast your spells?”
“Yes!”
“And to undo spells?”
“Undo spells?” What did that mean? “Um, yes. I mean, unscrewing stuff and disassembly and disconnecting—”
“Disconnecting?” Mage Alain faced the door. “Then I must do this.” He stared at the lock, sweat appearing on his brow. “Quickly,” he whispered.
Mari tore her eyes from the Mage and saw a hole in the lock, though smaller than the one he had created before. Reaching in, she found enough of the lock mechanism remained to hold the bolt, but could turn the mechanism by hand to withdraw the bolt. Shoving the door to make sure it was unlocked, she pulled her hand free. “Done.”
The Mage nodded, the hole vanished without a trace, then he fell against the nearby wall, his body limp with exhaustion.
Mari grabbed him to keep him from falling to the floor, guilt surging within her. She had touched him before, but this was the first time she had held him, and his slimness made it all the more clear that the Mage was but a boy close to her in age. That
was fortunate, because she might have had trouble holding up a bigger man, but it also drove home to her that she had been pushing him hard and somewhat selfishly. “Forgive me,” she said formally, “and thank you.”
Settling the Mage into a resting position, Mari darted into the cell, hoisting her tool kit with a feeling of joy. Most of what it held were just simple tools like screwdrivers, pliers, and wrenches, but with those tools she felt more confident and complete. She ripped open the compartment on the side, finding her pistol still there. Holding the weapon, she chambered a round and released the safety, then keeping the pistol in one hand and carrying her tool kit with the other she left the cell, shoving the door shut again with her hip.
Mage Alain struggled to his feet, fending off her offered help. “I should be stronger,” he mumbled. “I can walk.”
Mari stepped back, recognizing that in this at least the Mage was like any other young man. She had stung his pride by pushing him into revealing just how weak he was. “As you will, Mage Alain.”
She walked in the lead, keeping her place slow enough to accommodate his exhaustion even though Mari’s nerves were screaming for her to run, run, run, until they got out of here. For a brief time after leaving her cell she had been in an almost dreamlike state, half convinced this was all unreal, but now she had fully accepted it and was increasingly worried about some pack of guards showing up to overwhelm them. She could use her pistol if necessary, but as when they were watching the bandits, she knew that the sound of a single shot would bring an avalanche of enemies upon her.
Together they moved down the passageway, dimly lit by oil lamps set at wide intervals. After passing several more cells, all empty, the passage took a turn and ran past a few additional cells. At the end of the hall, a door blocked further progress. Mari approached the door, her weapon poised, then halted in mid step as Mage Alain hissed a warning. “Stop. No farther.”
Chapter Ten
Mari held herself absolutely still, looking around. “What is it?”
“An alarm spell, set on the area near the door. If someone not wearing the right charm passes through it, it will alert its master or masters.”
Mari gave the Mage a level look. A big part of her wanted to just keep walking, because that sounded ridiculous. Another part of her pointed out that she wouldn’t be standing here unless something even weirder had already happened. She stood still. “Mages? Like you?”
“Not like me,” Alain denied. “This feels like the work of Dark Mages.”
“Dark Mages? What are Dark Mages?”
Alain gave her a look in which surprise could actually be seen. “You have not heard of Dark Mages?”
Mari shook her head. “I’m beginning to understand that there’s a whole lot of things I haven’t heard of.”
“Dark Mages use the same methods as the Mages of the Guild,” he explained, “but they apply their skills in different ways and undertake tasks which the Mage Guild will not. They are unsanctioned by the Guild, their works often the sort of thing no one wishes to openly admit. They do not wear robes or other distinctive garb, instead hiding among the common folk.”
“Are you saying that there are things Mages won’t do?” That was certainly contrary to the stories that Mari had heard.
Alain nodded almost absentmindedly, his attention focused mainly on the area just in front of her. “There are things which diminish wisdom, which harm a Mage’s ability to gain power and learn new spells.” He paused, giving her a sidelong look which seemed…worried?
“All right.” Mari nodded back to him, wondering why any Mage’s worries would be aimed at her. She must have misinterpreted that.
But as she stood still, her mind raced. If there were Dark Mages hidden among the commons, could there also be Dark Mechanics? Unsanctioned Mechanics didn’t exist, her Guild claimed. But then who was responsible for what she had found here? Commons, who were supposed to lack the necessary special talent to do Mechanic work? That thought was a lot scarier than the idea of Dark Mechanics. She had to ask some pointed questions. She wasn’t an apprentice now. If she demanded answers, even Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon would have to provide something in return.
But that could only happen after they got out of here. “Can we do anything about this alarm?”
Mage Alain stood silent for so long without answering that Mari started to worry. Then he shook his head. “Not yet. I need to rest, then perhaps I can get us through it without alerting its master.”
“Any idea how long you’ll need to rest?”
Mage Alain twitched his shoulders in the most minimal of shrugs. “A while.”
“Five minutes a while, half an hour a while, an hour a while?” Mari pressed.
He finally looked at her again. “Minutes? Hour?”
“Got it. A while,” Mari agreed, thinking guiltily that if she hadn’t insisted that the Mage create the hole to let her get her tool kit, he might already be able to handle this. Unfortunately, along with not learning math, Mages didn’t seem to worry about measuring time in anything more precise than morning and afternoon. She pointed to the nearest cell. “That door’s ajar. Let’s wait in there where we’ll be hidden if anyone comes along.”
“That is acceptable.” Once inside, the young Mage sat down against one wall, breathing slowly and deeply.
Mari checked for any sign of a far-listener in this cell, didn’t find any, then sat near the door, her hand holding the pistol ready, pointed at the ceiling. The throbbing in her head had faded to a continuous dull ache.
Mage Alain sat silently until she had settled. He was looking not at her, but between them, his expression revealing nothing.
What was he looking at? Oh. “Is it still there?” Mari asked.
Alain’s gaze rose to meet hers. “No.”
“That’s a relief.”
“It was never there. It does not exist. But it does remain.” His eyes stayed on hers. “Your…tools. You said you can disconnect.”
“You mean the thread? The metaphorical thread that isn’t there but is?” Mari asked. “Unfortunately, all of my tools only work on stuff that’s really there.”
“Nothing is really there,” Alain insisted.
“Blazes! I…my tools only work on the strong illusions. I can’t unscrew an allegory or disconnect a metaphor, Mage Alain!”
“You cannot?” He definitely appeared disappointed.
Absurdly, she felt bad that she couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry. Honest. But neither my tools or my training can do that. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I could.”
His eyes were on hers again. “You gave me the impression that you could do many things and do them well.”
Flattery? From a Mage? “I wish you were a Senior Mechanic. None of them feel that way.” Mari shook her head, feeling overwhelmed as the reality of their circumstances still trapped in the dungeon overcame the last traces of euphoria after the escape from her cell. “I’m not experienced enough even though I’m well-trained. This is my first job outside a Guild Hall, the first time I’ve really been outside a Guild Hall without a lot of other Mechanics around.” Life in a Guild Hall, life at the academy in Palandur, safe and simple and predictable, seemed like one of the Mage’s illusions now. “I don’t know what the blazes I’m doing.”
“You are certainly good at creating the illusion of competence, then.”
Mari stared at the Mage, who showed no signs that his comment was meant anything but seriously. He seemed to think that he had paid her a great compliment. She started giggling, fighting to stay quiet. “I’m going to have to make sure that’s in my next performance evaluation. ‘Master Mechanic Mari is good at creating the illusion of competence.’” Her sides shaking with suppressed laughter only a few steps removed from hysteria born of injury and stress, Mari slumped against the wall.
The Mage watched her intently. “Are you well?”
She managed to get her laughter under control with the help of some renewed throbs in her
head and sat straighter, wiping her eyes. “Oh, just great. I’ve got a lump on my head, I’m in a dungeon with a Mage, and if I’m honest with my Guild about what’s happened down here I’ll be locked away forever. Couldn’t be better.” Mari paused to look at the Mage’s face, no sign of emotion on it. “Do you ever laugh?”
“No. It is not permitted.”
There was that sense of pity filling her again. Mari looked away. He’s not a lost puppy. He’s a young man. He chose this life. He’s not my responsibility. “Why did you come after me?”
“There is a thread—”
“The one that’s not there but is. Yeah. But I asked why. Why did you follow that thread, assuming there is a thread?”
The Mage looked at her, and for a moment she could see the concern in his eyes. “I felt that I needed to…help you.”
Mari smiled at him. “Well, thanks.”
“Because,” Mage Alain continued, “I thought that might be the only way to break the spell you have placed upon me.”
Her smile vanished. “Spell?”
“The thread may have something to do with it. It holds us together. That is why I wanted you to disconnect it, to remove what you have done to me.”
“I—” Mari paused to try to reason out what the Mage was saying. “You think I’m doing something to you? Using that metaphorical thread? You think that I made that thread that isn’t there?”
He nodded. “It must be so. I keep thinking of you. You make me remember things that I should not. I do things when you are involved that I would not ever considering doing otherwise.” The Mage’s otherwise blank expression contained just the tiniest hint of accusation. “I do not know how you have done this to me. I thought that if I returned the help you had given me that I would be free of the inexplicable influence you have over me. But it does not seem to be working, and you say you cannot break the thread.”
Mari realized that her mouth had fallen open as she stared at Mage Alain. “Are you serious?”