“It is,” Alain said. “Many Mages have seen warning of the storm, have seen it cloaking armies and mobs of commons, have seen it approaching swiftly, but the Mage Guild itself refuses to accept those warnings.”
“How long, Sir Mage?” Flyn asked urgently. “How long until the daughter reveals herself? How long until the storm strikes?”
“I do not know,” Alain said. “There is a sense of urgency in the visions that warns time is limited.”
“And she goes into the empire?” Flyn asked, his voice despairing.
“To seek answers that she needs. And she will not do so alone. From this time on, I will be with her.”
“That is a great comfort, Sir Mage.” Flyn turned his head to look at where his soldiers were camped. “If she announced herself today, I have no doubt that my troops would immediately march with her. And I have no doubt that we would quickly be utterly destroyed. You are surely right that she needs secrecy for now. The daughter of Jules. Of blood or of spirit, I wonder? Surely both. But it explains her to me, Sir Mage. It explains that dead dragon over there. And since you two are clearly companions, perhaps it explains you as well. Who else could awaken the man beneath a Mage? Why did you tell me all of this, Sir Mage?” the general asked. “There is no more valuable secret in this world.”
It took Alain a moment to answer, as he tried to understand the reasons himself. “I…trust you.” Was that the right word? He tried to remember exactly what “trust” meant as the general’s eyes flashed amazement. Alain’s thoughts, his feelings, were very hard to express after so many years of being forced to restrain emotion.
“Thank you, Sir Mage,” Flyn said. “I am beyond astonishment, but not beyond gratitude for your trust. I assure you that it is not misplaced.”
Alain inclined his head respectfully toward the general, just as he would have toward an elder of the Mage Guild. An extremely inappropriate gesture from a Mage to a common, yet it felt right to Alain. “How is it that the commons do not know the lineage of Jules, if they believe so in the prophecy of the daughter?”
Flyn pointed toward Alain. “Because of the Great Guilds, Sir Mage. According to legend, the prophecy was made while Jules still lived. Somehow, she knew of it. It was kept secret as long as possible, but Jules and those close to her knew that it would leak eventually, and that when it happened the Great Guilds would ensure the destruction of anyone related to her. Before Jules died, her children were hidden among the commons in different places. It must have been hard on her, but it was the only way to keep them alive. None know the lineage of Jules, Sir Mage, for that was the only way to ensure the daughter of her blood could someday be born and grow to fulfill the prophecy.”
Who had made the prophecy? Alain wondered. It must have been a Mage, for even though Mage elders disdained the legend, he had learned that most also sought to stamp it out with a fervor that bespoke belief, and the unconventional elder he had spoken with in Dorcastle had confirmed the prophecy had been made. But why would the Mage who saw the prophecy not immediately have told the elders of that long-ago day? Could that Mage have been like Alain, discovering a road that did not require obedience to elders?
Mari returned, her pack on her back, outwardly casual even though Alain could spot the tension beneath that facade. “Are you ready to go?” she asked Alain.
Before Alain could answer, Flyn unbuckled his sword scabbard, knelt, and held the weapon hilt-first toward Mari. “My sword is yours, Lady Mari, now and for as long as I live. Whatever you command shall be my law.”
Mari stared at him, then gave Alain a suspicious look. “What did you tell him? Does he know who I really am?”
“He knows who you are,” Alain said.
“Then I don’t understand why—” Composing herself, Mari touched the hilt of the general’s sword. “I don’t expect to need a sword or a general, but thank you for your offer. Now, please get up. I don’t like having anyone kneel to me. Please don’t do that again.”
Flyn stood, smiling grimly as he refastened his weapon to his belt. “You have done me the honor of accepting my offer of future service. If you ever need me or my sword, just send word. Now, let me tell you of the route you should take.” He described the way, marking a piece of paper to make a map which Alain watched Mari study carefully. When Mari had memorized the path, General Flyn stepped back and saluted. “May the spirits of all who came before us smile upon your road, Lady. Keep her safe from the storm, Sir Mage.”
The common soldiers watched them as Mari and Alain walked back eastward toward where the secret route would branch off from the pass. Mari kept her gaze set forward, her discomfort making it clear she was aware of being watched, though she occasionally looked upward with a puzzled expression as if searching for clouds.
Then one of the soldiers raised his sword and began banging it against his shield in a steady rhythm. The soldiers around him began doing the same, swords, pikes, crossbows and even the two Mechanic rifles slamming into shields over and over, the thud of metal on metal resounding from the walls of the pass.
Mari had spun around at the first noise, her face wary, then stared before turning to walk away again. “Why are they doing that? What does it mean?” she asked Alain.
“I have been told that it is a sign of great respect which common soldiers render to those who they believe have earned such a gesture,” Alain replied.
“Oh,” Mari sighed with relief. “Then it’s for you.”
He glanced back, hearing some cries of “The Mage” mingled with shouts of “The Lady!” General Flyn and his surviving staff stood rendering salutes to the departing pair. Alain felt his heart stir, gladdened that these commons felt he had earned such gestures, but he knew that the display was not solely for him. “They were also impressed by you,” he told Mari.
“I doubt it. By tomorrow they’ll have forgotten me.”
She clearly did not believe that, but Alain let it pass.
It was not until they were out of sight of the soldiers and the noise of the salutation had faded that Mari gave Alain a sharp look. “What did you tell him? That general?”
“I told him of a vision I had as we spoke,” Alain explained. “It showed him saluting you while I and soldiers stood by.”
She rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t much of a leap into the future. He did that just before we left. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. That’s all you two talked about?”
“That, and who you were. I did not speak of anything that you do not wish spoken of, but he guessed much from what I could say.”
Mari made an angry noise in her throat. “I hate being on display like that. Look, all you commons, it’s a Mage and Mechanic together! Do you think they’re lovers?”
“Lovers?” Alain asked.
“In more than the emotional sense of the word,” Mari explained shortly. “I didn’t like that sort of speculation by others about my love life when it was about other Mechanics, and I like it even less now because there’s almost a circus sideshow quality to the guessing-games. You didn’t encourage that daughter stuff, did you? I cannot believe that you told him the prophecy included Mages and Mechanics.”
“But it does,” Alain said. “And you have told me that truth matters. I thought perhaps you had already heard that detail of the prophecy as well.”
Mari sighed. “Alain, I’d prefer not to talk about that prophecy. I’m already under a lot of pressure, and talking about that makes it worse.”
“I understand. I will not mention it again until such time as you wish to discuss it.”
“Then we’ll never talk about it again,” Mari said, her voice firm. “The last few weeks have been rough. I did tell you that, didn’t I? Rushing to find you, always worrying that I might be too late…let me relax for one day at least, thinking about nothing more serious than putting one foot in front of the other.” She took a deep breath, visibly trying to relax. “He should have offered you his sword,” Mari declared. “Just like those soldiers saluti
ng you. You were the one who did so much to ensure they survived.” They were walking side by side, and Mari gave him a smile. She seemed vastly relieved not to be the object of worshipful gazes from common soldiers any longer. “What are you thinking now?”
“I am resolving to be worthy of being beside you,” Alain answered.
She laughed. “You don’t sound like you mean it, but I bet you do. A lot of guys I’ve met were the exact opposite. They’d sound completely sincere but I knew they didn’t mean a word of what they were saying.” Mari looked around. “Here we are alone together again, just like in the Waste. That seems like a million years ago.”
“It was just short of four months ago,” Alain said. “At least this time we have enough water.”
“Yeah.” The smile was gone and Mari appeared tired. “I’m worried. I’m really worried. And scared, for myself and for you. Most of my life has been spent trying to learn and understand things. Now, for the first time, I’m not sure that I want to know the answers, because of what those answers may mean. But I don’t have any choice, because our Guilds have already decided that you and I need to be dealt with because of what we’re going to do.”
“You wish to speak of the prophecy now?” Alain asked, surprised.
“No. What does— Will you just drop it? If those soldiers blab about me being that person we’ll have half the world trying to kill us!” Mari calmed as she looked at him. “As it is, I don’t know what I’d do if I was facing this alone. But I’d already be long dead in the Waste or in Ringhmon if not for you. It’s funny, but there have been plenty of times I’ve thought about what might have happened if things had been different: if you and I hadn’t met, or if you hadn’t come with me when the caravan was attacked, or if you hadn’t come into the dungeon in Ringhmon after me, or if I hadn’t talked to you again after we parted in Ringhmon. You would think that would have made things simpler, and it would have, because whenever I consider what might have happened in those cases I come to dead ends. Literally. Knowing you has complicated things a lot, but without you I’d have the simplicity of the grave.”
He thought about that. “This is also the case with me. You have saved me more than once. My path would have ended in more than one place without you.”
Mari frowned, looking ahead now. “You know, it’s because you’re a Mage. I mean, you’re a great person beneath that, but if you hadn’t had a Mage’s abilities I still would have died. Having a common with me wouldn’t have gotten me out of that cell in Ringhmon, and having another Mechanic along wouldn’t have helped either. If I’d been a Mage, with whatever special abilities I might have had, would it have kept you alive?”
Alain shook his head. “No. I do not think so. Your Mechanic skills, your knowledge, have been very important to our survival. It is as you said in Dorcastle. It matters that we have these different abilities. I do not know that they have ever been used to the same purpose.”
“You remember that? You actually do remember everything I say, don’t you?”
He took a moment to frame his words properly before saying them. “For many years, after I was taken from my parents to the be trained by the Mage Guild, I was told that only a few voices should be listened to. For many years, I listened only to the elders. When I met you, when you spoke to me, I realized that other voices should also be heard. Your words, your actions, showed me that what I been told for twelve years as a Mage acolyte was not all that was worth knowing.”
Mari gave him a look that was hard to interpret. “So are you just accepting everything I say?”
“No,” Alain said. “Simply accepting what I am told by anyone would just repeat the error. I pay close attention to what you say, and know what you say is always worth careful consideration, but each time I must decide whether it reflects a wisdom I should accept.”
She grinned at him. “Good.”
The sun had not risen much farther before they reached the cleft in the wall of the pass which marked the entrance to the hidden path. Mari squeezed through first, followed by Alain. This way was narrow and often difficult as it climbed and wove through the mountains, making for a long and tiring day of travel. “I suppose it was too much to expect this route to be a little easier,” Mari complained after one rough stretch.
“But you always prefer the harder way,” Alain pointed out.
“Why did I ever tell you that? And I never meant literally the harder way.” They found a slightly wider area walled in by heights on three sides as the sun was setting and chose to camp there, sharing some of the rations that the soldiers had given them. “We are close to enemy territory,” Alain said as darkness fell, “and my Guild may still have assassins on my trail. We should maintain a watch. I shall take the first one.”
Mari nodded wearily. “All right. Wake me in a few hours.”
“Hours?”
She managed to look even more tired. “I forgot. How do Mages tell time?”
“We watch the sun and the stars.”
“Great. When the stars tell you that the night is about a quarter over, wake me.”
“A quarter?” Alain asked.
“Oh, blazes,” Mari said. “Couldn’t your Mage elders have taught their acolytes any math at all? Wake me when you feel like sleeping.”
* * * *
They were higher up and the night grew colder than before, but they could not risk a fire. Mari watched the sun come up with a hopeful expression. “We should be heading downward today and tomorrow, and the path is supposed to get easier until the final stretch that will dump us onto the Imperial plains.”
They had been walking for most of the morning, and Alain sought for something to speak with Mari about. Since parting from Mari at Dorcastle, Alain had paid discreet attention to commons and Mechanics, and seen that they often spoke with each other, instead of following the practice of Mages, who only spoke when something had to be said. Alain wanted to speak about the prophecy, but Mari had made it plain that she did not want to talk about that.
But thinking of the prophecy and Mari’s role in it reminded him of another vision, the one in Dorcastle, and something in that vision he had not understood. “Mari, could you tell me something?”
The path had narrowed, forcing Mari to walk ahead of him so Alain could not see her face, but Mari answered in a cheerful voice. “You want to talk? That’s good. What is it?”
“What does it mean when a man and a woman wear rings?”
Mari suddenly stumbled, even though Alain could not see what might have tripped her. “Why do you ask?” she replied, in still-cheerful tones which nonetheless now held more tension.
“I have seen them, and I do not know what they mean.”
“What kind of rings?”
“Plain gold. On both the man and the woman.”
Mari stumbled again, and this time her voice was much more tense. “They mean that the man and the woman have pledged their promises to each other. That’s why they’re called promise rings.”
“Promises?”
“They’re married to each other.”
“Oh.” Alain must have let emotion sound, because Mari stopped walking, spinning about to face him.
“Oh? What does that mean?” she demanded.
“Perhaps it is something we should discuss at a later time,” Alain suggested.
“I think we should discuss it now, Alain.” Mari searched his face. “Why did you ask me about those rings? Did you really not know what they meant?”
“No, I did not,” Alain said. “Mages do not marry. It was not discussed among us, and I did not recall anything about rings from my time before being forced to join the Mage Guild.”
The tension seemed to drain out of Mari very quickly, leaving some other emotions that Alain was unsure of. She turned away and started walking again, seeming oddly deflated. “I see. Well, now you know.”
Encouraged but also anxious over Mari’s puzzling behavior, Alain kept speaking. “It was one of the things in my vision at Do
rcastle of our possible future which I did not understand, so—”
“Your vision?” Mari twisted in mid-step to face Alain. “The one at Dorcastle? The one with you and me in it?”
“Yes,” Alain agreed, feeling suddenly much more anxious. “Perhaps—”
“We had rings on? You and me? Identical rings?”
“Yes.”
“We were married in that vision and YOU DIDN’T EVEN MENTION IT UNTIL NOW?”
Alain took two steps backwards, wishing at this moment that he had remained silent. “It appears so.”
Mari was just staring at him, so many emotions showing that Alain could not sort them out. Her voice this time was very low and very intense and made Alain very nervous. “Didn’t you think that was important?”
“I did not know what it meant.”
“HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHAT IT MEANT!?”
Alain tried to stand tall in the face of Mari’s fury. “I am a Mage and—”
“I know you’re a Mage! And I’m a Mechanic who should have had her head examined a long time ago!” Mari stared off into the distance, appearing stricken now. “We’re going to be married?”
Obviously, this was the source of Mari’s upset. Alain tried to reassure her. “The vision only showed what might be. One possible outcome. There is no need for us to do anything we do not want—”
“What?” She was staring at him again, her expression even harder to read. “What are you saying?”
“Just because the vision showed us married to each other does not mean that we have to ever—”
“You don’t want to marry me?” Mari asked in a soft voice that nonetheless sounded extremely dangerous.
“I…”
“I’m waiting for an answer, Mage Alain.”
There was only one possible way out of this that Alain could see. “If you wish to marry—”
“If I wish to? What about you? And maybe I don’t wish to, Mage Alain.” Mari had somehow gotten directly in front of him again, leaning in so that Alain leaned backwards. “Maybe I wouldn’t marry you for all the jewels in the Imperial vaults!”