Talis stared at her. “That sounds impossible. That small, that light, and that kind of performance? How could you even build that?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t look like you could take it apart, so I don’t know how it was built. And between that ancient one on the left and a current far-talker on the right were a series of far-talkers, each model larger and heavier than the one that came before, and each one with worse performance.”
“Mari, blazes, you know what that has to mean?”
“Yes. And it’s not just far-talkers. Complicated devices like electronics are regressing, getting less sophisticated and less reliable. Most Mechanics don’t realize it, because it’s happening too slowly, but seeing all of those together brought it home.”
“Like we’re forgetting how to build certain things, or losing the ability to build them,” Talis whispered, his eyes on the Senior Mechanics climbing the cliff. “The rugged, simple things like locomotives are still working well, but we’ve all seen the problems with complex stuff. And those problems feel like they’re getting worse at an accelerating rate, as if it’s all falling off a cliff.” He turned to stare at her. “The Guild has to be working on it. Our leaders can’t be ignoring whatever’s causing the problem. The Senior Mechanics can be hidebound and stupid, but this is too important to ignore. How old was that first far-talker model?”
Mari shook her head. “There weren’t any dates on any of them. I recognized the current one, and the one before that because I’ve seen a couple of those that are somehow still working, but there’s no telling how old that first one was.”
“Something’s broken,” Talis whispered. “What do we do?”
And he looked at Mari.
“I…don’t know yet,” she said. What was the matter with people? Talis had a couple of decades of experience on her, and he was looking to her for an answer to this? Why did you show me that display, Professor S’san? You wouldn’t tell me. “Draw your own conclusions, Mari.” For once couldn’t you feed me one blasted answer, so I’d know what to tell people like Talis?
“Keep me in mind,” Talis said, then headed toward the cliff.
Mari waved to Alain to let him know he could come on, then started ahead herself. By the time she and Alain had worked clear of the wreckage near the cliff, most of the other Mechanics had already started the steep climb. Mari felt a light touch as she stared at the pile of rocks she would have to climb up and looked over to see Alain pointing at the places where the timbers anchoring the trestle had been broken. Mari bent to look closely. The impressions forced deeply into the wood weren’t of rope or wire. They seemed to have been made by gigantic claws. How did the other Mechanics miss this? Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe they chose to miss it. Maybe they didn’t see anything that didn’t match their own predetermined theories. “I guess we can’t rule out anything at this point, can we?”
Alain looked thoughtful. “One possibility can be eliminated. The rulers of Ringhmon could not have done it in revenge for what happened to their Hall of City Government. They would not have had time to get here before the Mechanic train.”
“True.” Mari felt a tightness in her chest. Unless somebody helping the rulers of Ringhmon had far-talkers. Unless the wreck had been set up by some of the people on the train with me, in the last car. Was that why the Guild cargo shipment from Ringhmon was cancelled? Too valuable to lose while disposing of an inconvenient Master Mechanic with a big mouth and too much knowledge of things people weren’t supposed to know? I need to ask some questions where no one else can hear.
She nodded to Alain. “Give me a good head start up the cliff,” she whispered.
He nodded back, not asking the question in his eyes.
Mari walked to stand beside Talis, the only other Mechanic still on the beach, and waved upward. “Shall we?”
Talis didn’t appear thrilled at the prospect. “It didn’t look as bad coming down, did it? Maybe because we couldn’t see the bottom too well. But that moon’s lighting up the top just fine.”
They started up, climbing close to each other. Mari tried to think through what to ask, wishing she hadn’t already been ordered to say nothing about possible non Guild Mechanics. She couldn’t mention that unless she already knew someone would be willing to talk to her. But that left a big topic available for opening a conversation. “Talis, have you ever seen a Mage do something that you couldn’t explain? Something real?”
The other Mechanic stopped moving for a moment, his face gone to stone, then did a search of the immediate surroundings to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Put it out of your mind, Master Mechanic Mari. It didn’t happen.”
“But if I saw— ”
“No. I told you. You saw nothing.”
Mari felt her temper rising. “Facts cannot be ignored.”
Talis shook his head. “There are facts and there are facts. There is truth and then there’s truth. As far as the Guild is concerned, whatever you thought you saw, you didn’t see. No one ever sees a Mage actually do something. That’s all there is to it.”
She stared at him. “How can we follow such a policy?”
“I don’t know what the Guild’s thinking is, but you and I don’t have any alternative! Do you want to be kicked out of the Guild and imprisoned at Longfalls? That’s your choice. Beat your head against a wall and accomplish nothing, or keep your head down and continue doing good work as a Mechanic.”
Mari looked at the rocks before her, silently absorbing the information. “Do all Mechanics know this?” All but me, anyway.
Talis shrugged as best he could while climbing. “Not until they get out in the field. After that, most know something to a greater or lesser extent, depending on experience. Some are so diligent about avoiding Mages that they never learn anything to shake their confidence that Mages are total frauds. Then you’ve got the oldtimers like Saco up there,” he pointed up at one of the Senior Mechanics far above them, “who I think have honestly convinced themselves that they’ve never seen anything. Their brains are like lance-thick armor plate. Totally impervious to anything they don’t want to see.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“How do you tell somebody something that no one’s supposed to know? Something that isn’t even supposed to be real? Besides, I think most Mechanics learn like I did, by running into something we couldn’t explain and then when we asked, being firmly told to forget about it.” Talis paused, then spoke forcefully. “And like you’re learning about it. For your own sake, Master Mechanic, forget about it.”
“Thanks. I do appreciate the advice.” Mari stopped short of saying she would follow it. There was so much to take in, so many things that clashed with what she had been taught. Did you set me up, Professor S’san? Trained me not to settle for easy answers, insisted on the importance of truth in our work and our actions, and then sent me off to tangle with a system which denies truth?
I can’t blame her for who I am, though. If Professor S’san helped make me who I am, all she did was sand off the rough edges. I was already me when I got to the academy.
Me. I’m one girl. What can I do alone? Maybe everyone looks to me for answers, but if it were a matter of going against the Guild, no one would follow me.
A rock rolled behind her and she looked to see Alain laboring up the slope beneath them. One might.
How can I do that to the first friend I’ve found since leaving Caer Lyn? A guy who might even be…no, no, no. That’s not going to happen.
Especially since I don’t know what might take place in Dorcastle if I do make it there. Is whoever did this planning something else?
Is whoever did this after me for things I haven’t even done yet?
Chapter Thirteen
Alain could see the sky brightening in the east by the time another Mechanic train arrived from Dorcastle, its locomotive creature chugging gingerly along the metal lines while extra look-outs watched for more of the dangerous gaps. Alain gazed at the strange device, wond
ering how the Mechanics had created such a creature. Mari had told him that Mechanics did not use spells, but how else could something like that, or a dragon, be brought into being?
The Mechanics from the old caravan, and then the commons, inched their way across the gap where the trestle had been, using a narrow trail against the cliff just wide enough to walk single file. Most did their best not to look down into the depths where the trestle had fallen.
The last of the commons, a man who had hung back until everyone else had gone, balked halfway across, frozen with fear, eyes shut and clinging to the rock wall behind him. Alain could see the Mechanics laughing, and some of the other commons did, too. Most of the commons didn’t laugh, but were arguing among themselves. It did not occur to Alain to do anything, but he did wonder if the common would be abandoned there.
Mari swung down from the locomotive and walked onto the narrow strip, looking stubborn and ignoring comments yelled by some of the Mechanics. She said something to the commons watching as she passed them, and some of those sheepishly fell in behind her. Stepping onto the narrow area, Mari made her way to the common paralyzed with fear and put a hand on his arm, speaking in a low voice.
Everyone watched as she gently tugged the man into motion, getting him step by step across the remaining distance until the commons waiting at the end could grab him and pull him onto the wider area. Mari walked back to the locomotive as the commons called out thanks to her, watching her with different expressions than they turned on other Mechanics.
Only a few Mechanics remained behind with the original train, and Alain saw them begin backing it up as soon as the last commons were clear. He wondered if they would back up all the way to Ringhmon.
After that it was simply a matter of loading everyone aboard the new train. Alain overheard some of the commons grumbling about the freight belonging to them which remained on the stranded Mechanic train, which now would have to either await repair of the trestle or be transported overland by caravan southwest out of Ringhmon to the Silver River, where barges could carry it on to Dorcastle. The additional time involved, Alain gathered, would be substantial, and that would cost the Mechanics Guild a lot of the fees it would otherwise have earned. “At least we know the Mechanics aren’t behind this,” one of the commons muttered in a low voice, afraid of being overheard. “It’s costing them money.”
The other commons laughed harshly in agreement. “It’s costing the Mages money, too,” another suggested. “Maybe they really are innocent.” Then he laughed harder at his joke and everyone joined in, though Alain ducked his head to avoid letting the others see his lack of reaction.
He thought on that later. To Mages, the Mechanics are not only shadows but also false, being nothing like us. Mari says the Mechanics see the Mages the same way. Yet to the commons, the Mages and the Mechanics are much the same thing. I did nothing for that common who was scared to move, and neither did any of the Mechanics except Mari. Had I been wearing my robes, and Mari not been here, the actions of Mage and Mechanic would have been identical. I understand now why the commons speak of the Great Guilds as if we were one.
As everyone got aboard the new train, Mari stopped on her way back to the locomotive to tell him where she would be the second evening after they arrived in Dorcastle. “It’s a restaurant,” she explained after giving the address. “One of the other Mechanics told me about it. If you want to meet again, I’ll be there.”
Something about the way she said those words, something about the way she avoided his gaze, made him ask a question. “Do you want to meet again?”
She had looked at him, her expression uncertain, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I will be there. Why did you help that common?”
“He needed to be helped, and no one else was doing anything.” Mari gave him an angry look. “You could have helped. You understand what that it is now.”
“He is not a friend.”
“That’s not the point. Some of the other Mechanics are giving me a hard time about him being a common, and that’s not the point, either.”
“What is the point?”
“Don’t let people suffer! Don’t let anyone be hurt! If you can help, then help! What about that is complicated?” Mari demanded.
Alain thought about her words. “It is not complicated, but doing it might be…” What was the right word? “Difficult.”
“Yeah, well, that’s me in a nutshell, isn’t it?” She had gazed at him defiantly, as if waiting for something.
He had nodded to her. “It is.”
Whatever she had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Mari looked startled, then grinned. “I hope I see you in Dorcastle. But it really is up to you.”
She had entered into the back of the great locomotive beast, and he had entered the part of the train where the commons sat. Everyone was tired, so no one bothered Alain as they all tried to catch up on their sleep.
He could not sleep, though.
He knew that he should not go to that restaurant. He should not meet Mari again. Somewhere in the night, Alain had felt emotions boiling beneath the seals he had placed upon his feelings for so many years. He thought of tears, and help, and friend. Memories once safely buried haunted the darkness.
What manner of challenge was this, that threatened to devastate him as a Mage? All that he had done, all that he had endured, might be destroyed within a short time by his association with Mari. Once again he wondered at the power she had to influence him. To change him. Perhaps to ruin him.
He knew what the teachings of the elders called for when the world illusion pressed too forcefully. A Mage must retire to an empty chamber, devoid of anything but blank walls, and there work to rebuild his certainty of truth: that nothing else existed but him, that feelings and emotions were barriers to wisdom and power, that everything and anything that might connect him to the shadows which were only illusions of other people must be denied and locked away beyond retrieval. Alain had seen Mages do just that a few times while he was still at Ihris, emerging from their voluntary isolation after days or weeks with the total disinterest in the world that marked wisdom.
He should do that when he reached Dorcastle. Deny these memories, deny helping, deny friend, and especially deny Mari. That was the road back to the certainties he knew.
He recalled a lesson taught by an elder who rarely punished the acolytes, but rather enforced his will by the strength of his words. The elder had stood before them and spoken of a creature of legend, something whose hands held greater power than those of any Mage. In one hand was the power to create, and in the other the power to destroy. When he had finished, the elder held out both of his hands. “Choose one,” he had called to the acolytes.
“Which hand is which?” one of the wiser acolytes had asked.
“You will know that when you have chosen,” the elder replied.
None of them would choose, and the elder finally lowered his arms and nodded. “You see. We give you wisdom. We give the knowledge that has been gained by Mages and elders before you. If you stray from that knowledge, then in your ignorance of consequences you are standing before that creature. It will offer its hands, and you will have to choose one of them, not knowing whether your choice will destroy you. That is the price of walking an unknown path.”
He had never thought the creature would be in the form of Master Mechanic Mari. Everything he had learned told him that she was dangerous to him, that what she offered was surely the hand of destruction. But as Alain looked out the window, he realized something that had never occurred to him before. That elder had not told him and the other acolytes never to stray from the path they were taught, had not told them never face the choice in the hands of the creature. The elder had instead warned them to consider the consequences. Perhaps destruction. Perhaps something long sought.
Other elders had been much more direct in their warnings. “Male acolytes, beware of the females you will see outside of Guild Halls. They seek your undoing, to take
your wisdom from you and lure you into becoming shadows just as they are.”
Mari is taking me from the path of wisdom. I see her and feel…happy. Admit it. I will connect to the false world and to the shadows again, and my spells will dwindle to nothing.
And yet…the thread is still there. I can sense where she is, ahead of me in the Mechanic locomotive. What is that thread? What does it represent?
Do I want a wisdom which would make me cut that thread?
I have not yet been weakened. I have withstood any loss of power. What if it becomes clear that my choice is my powers—my hard-won standing as a Mage—or Mari? Which would I choose then? How could I give up being a Mage?
How could I give up Mari?
As he thought that, Alain realized that his choice had already been made.
If the elders at the Mage Guild Hall in Dorcastle sensed his decision, then Mari would not have a chance to destroy him. His own elders would take care of that very quickly.
The morning was well advanced when the train rounded a bend in the coast and Dorcastle finally came into view. The city occupied the slopes of a river valley rising above the harbor, a valley which was the first real break in the cliffs blocking the southern coast of the Sea of Bakre after the salt marshes north of Ringhmon. Dorcastle rose up from the water in a series of defensive walls which looked impressive even from a distance.