“This one does not understand,” Alain said.
“You are still weak, otherwise such lack of knowing would be inexcusable,” the elder said. Her voice was almost toneless, but Mari could hear undercurrents of emotion. “But this one cannot criticize the wisdom of a Mage who has done what no other Mage has. You changed that one. You used your spell to alter her. You know this.”
“I know this,” Alain said. “This one had to. To save her.”
“Many Mages have wished to save another, or harm another,” the elder said. “None could. You found the wisdom. She is the proof. What is the secret?”
Alain hesitated. “She is real. The secret lay in understanding that she was the only real thing, the only thing that mattered. That I was nothing.”
The elder nodded. Mari thought she saw the ghost of a smile on her lips. “The Mage Guild has always taught that wisdom required seeing all others as only shadows. That wisdom has never managed to advance, staying fixed in place. You have declared a wisdom which says the opposite. Wisdom lies in seeing others as real. That is the test, is it not, young Mage? Not to disregard others. Rather for each to be able to step outside of ourselves, to lose our selfish focus on ourselves, enough to see others as being as real as we are, as even more important than ourselves. Only then can we advance.”
To Mari’s amazement, Alain looked visibly embarrassed by the elder’s words. “This one is not worthy of such praise.”
“That one knows better,” the elder said. “Do you not know the term Master of Mages? It is a rank of wisdom only rarely given. I declare you worthy of that. I know many others will agree, even though the council of elders no longer commands a Guild to enforce such a decree. Or to dispute it.”
Instead of seeming abashed once more, Alain looked at Mari, then back at the elder. “The council of elders no longer commands a Guild?”
“No,” the elder said as if that was a matter of no consequence. “There has been growing discontent, as you know, with many joining you in search of new wisdom. But two things have happened. One was the events in Danalee which you described to me. Word also came from Mages who reached the city after you and spoke to the elder who did not die. That the council of elders would order such a thing was against all wisdom as Mages understand it. Even before the failure of the Imperial invasion Mages were departing, refusing their orders from the council of elders. Then came this.” The elder flicked a single forefinger toward Mari. “You, already declared to have lost all wisdom, who had told many of your emotions toward this other, did what no other Mage ever could. It was proof that the wisdom enforced by the Guild was false in important ways. The Mage Guild no longer exists. Each Guild Hall is gathering to it Mages who think in similar ways. Many seek new paths. Others cling to the old. But the Guild that once enforced its rule over Mage and shadows alike is gone.”
A thought came to Mari then, but she was afraid to voice it.
Calu, though, didn’t hesitate. “You did it, Mari.” He grinned as widely as she had ever seen. “The Great Guilds have been overthrown. They don’t rule the world any more.”
“The prophecy is not yet fulfilled,” the Mage elder said, her voice stern. “The daughter of Jules must also save the world. The chains that bound this world also held it together. The Great Guilds are gone. The old rules have vanished and new ones have not yet been found. The daughter of Jules must help the world survive these changes.”
Mari, feeling as if someone had just massively rewritten her job scope, gave Alain an accusing look. “Have you seen that Storm vision lately?”
He pondered the question. “Last night, I saw something like but unlike the earlier visions given by foresight.”
“And you didn’t mention that until now?”
“You were sleeping.” Alain paused again. “There were armies clashing, cities burning, but the mobs of commons could no longer be seen. No one sought to fight the light of the sun, but where that light shone the armies fell back and lowered their weapons.”
“Which means?” Mari pressed, knowing she sounded upset.
The elder answered her, startling Mari. “You have power of your own, daughter.” The Mage elder pointed her cane at Mari. “Use it.”
“To stop wars from happening? How am I supposed to do that? I’ve got an army. It’s been fighting a war. I wanted to be able to do this without any battles, but I couldn’t, and look at…look at…” Mari, feeling sick, waved helplessly toward the outside, to the ruins of much of Dorcastle.
The elder walked closer to Mari’s bed, looking down at her. “That young Mage saved you, daughter of Jules. It had never been done. Many had failed. But he tried. No one had ever overthrown the Great Guilds. But you tried. Wisdom does not lie in accepting what the illusion shows us. It lies in trying to change the illusion in favor of what is real. You have already cast your shadow wide and done what many said could not be.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Mari demanded.
“No.” The Mage elder studied Mari again. “I see this in you. Would you ever be…what is the word?” she asked Alain. “For…something that…pleases.”
“Happy,” Alain said.
“Happy.” The Mage elder nodded slowly, her eyes distant for a moment. “Yes. Would you be happy?” she asked Mari. “If there were no more challenges? Or if you saw ill events and could do nothing?”
“Yes,” Mari insisted. “I’d be fine with it. Somebody else should have to worry about all that.”
“Daughter of Jules,” the elder said, poking at Mari with her cane, “did not this young Mage tell you not to attempt lies before those who can see through illusions? You came to this place in the face of foresight that showed a great possibility of your death.”
“I had to,” Mari said. “If I was the only one who could—" She clenched her teeth in exasperation. “You’re saying that’s still true. But I’m not special.”
“No, you are not,” the elder said. “It is what you can do that is special. The choice remains yours. Live with the illusion made by others, or change it as you can, if you can.” She turned to go. “I am tired. Come see me, young Master of Mages, when your strength returns. You will be safe when visiting the Mage Hall.” Without another word she walked out, leaning on the cane again.
Calu closed the door behind her. “Um, wow. Can I get you anything, Mari?”
She gazed up at the ceiling, feeling awful. “Red wine and chocolate.”
“I don’t think the healers will allow you to have—"
“I hate healers. And I hate the daughter and I hate this job and I hate not being able to just work as a Mechanic and I hate having anything to do with wars.” Mari, out of breath, glared at Calu.
He nodded. “All right. Red wine and chocolate.”
“Calu?” she added before he left. “Thanks. If not for my friends, I’d be lost. You…you guys are real.”
He smiled again and closed the door behind him.
She turned her head slowly to look at Alain. “Did you have any idea the prophecy meant what that elder said?”
“No. Her interpretation does seem consistent with it, though.” Alain did not, to her eyes, look nearly regretful enough when he said that.
“Fine!” Mari snapped. “Then you have to help me keep trying to save the world. I hope you’re happy.”
He gave her a weak smile. “I am, because I am with you.”
“Oh, go to blazes.” Mari looked away, wishing that she felt strong enough to get up and beat her head against the wall. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m just waiting for life to get a little easier.”
It looked like it would be a while before there was any hope of that, though.
“Mari?”
“I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something mean to you.”
“That is not it.” She turned her head back to Alain, seeing him watching her. “You saw more, did you not? More than just the locomotive creature?”
Mari sighed, then nodded, grasping at already failing memories. “Just
fragments of things. Weird stuff. I’m having trouble remembering it. What did it all mean, Alain? Do you understand?”
“No.” He paused as if recalling something. “Not yet.”
* * * *
“General.” Mari, still in bed but propped up with pillows, smiled at the sight. “It’s very good to see you.”
General Flyn nodded, looking from her to Alain, then back at Mari. “I had to fight my way through a solid wall of healers to get in here. You look remarkable well for what I was told of your injury. I had heard it was a mortal wound.”
“Alain…did something,” Mari said. “I’m still weak inside. I hope you haven’t heard any rumors about…”
“You dying?” Flyn asked. “All I know is that you’re here and obviously very much alive.” He sat down near the door, sighing. “It’s been a tough few weeks, not that I’m asking for sympathy from either of you.” Flyn pursed his mouth, looking like a man about to plead guilty to a crime. “We nearly came too late.”
“No one has told me much,” Mari said. “It’s getting to be annoying.”
Flyn smiled. “Now there is the Lady Mari I know! You must be feeling better. You realize, I hope, that we came as quickly as we could. I tried to use our Rocs to shuttle some small help to you, but when we attempted to fly them out we discovered that the Mage Guild had sent their own Rocs to keep ours grounded. They had those Mages who cast lightning riding them. Our Rocs wouldn’t have stood a chance, so they had to stay close to our army where we could provide cover for them.”
“Alain guessed that might be the reason,” Mari said. “Because none of the lightning Mages were at Dorcastle.”
Flynn nodded. “Then came that storm, which our Mages said nothing could fly in. As soon as I could when we neared the city and the storm let up I sent some Rocs forward, flying under the overcast so the Mage Guild’s birds couldn’t spot them.”
He sighed again, looking toward the window. “We drove ourselves hard, Lady. At the end, your army was strung out all the way from Danalee to Dorcastle. What you saw, what came onto the battlements to hit back at the Imperials, was a small force I sent ahead using all the horses who could still move fast and including just about every rifle we had. The main force of the army was still close to a day’s hard march behind. Fortunately, the rifles and the surprise of their appearance and the Mechanics riding on Mage Rocs were enough to convince the Imperials that they were beaten.”
Flyn cocked an eyebrow at her. “Mind you, we couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t all but broken them before we got here. You won this victory, Lady, you and your Mage and the other defenders of Dorcastle. Stars above, I wish I had been there!”
Mari scoffed and shook her head. “No. You wouldn’t wish for that. It was so awful. So close a thing.”
“Many battles are a close thing and all of them are awful in their own ways,” Flyn said. “I will tell you this. For many years to come this world will be divided into two groups. Those who held the last wall at Dorcastle alongside the daughter, and those who wish they had been there with her.”
“General, I can’t imagine wanting to have been there.”
“It’s only truth, Lady,” Flyn insisted. “There are moments that decide everything that will come after, and that was such a moment. Then, once you’d held them, we broke the invasion force and hurled them back to the sea. The mightiest force that could be created by the combined strength of the Empire and the Great Guilds could not overcome you. Dorcastle was saved, the Confederation was saved, reborn Tiae was saved. That was one thing, and a big thing it was. And Pacta Servanda, with its schools and workshops in the land that is once again the Kingdom of Tiae, also held, against all that Syndar could throw at it. That was another thing. But then you lived when death had already called you. I am told that the Great Guilds have both fallen. The Empire is in total retreat. All the world, even those who doubted, now look at the daughter of the prophecy and knows she has in truth come at last and that she is invincible and indestructible.”
Mari looked down at her thin hands and laughed again, feeling a momentary shiver at how frail that laughter sounded. “The world needs to get a good look at me. Right now a hot kiss and a cold meal would kill me.”
“Seeing you wouldn’t change their opinion,” Flyn stated. “Because you are alive. But there is a…slight change to your appearance.”
“What?”
“No one has…?”
Mari looked over at Alain. “What is he talking about?”
Alain gave her one of his Mage looks, meaning he was trying to avoid something by withdrawing into that state. “Nothing of importance. But if you wish to see, there is a hand mirror on that table.”
“General?” Mari asked.
Looking wary, Flyn picked up the mirror and held it where Mari could see herself. Yes, as she expected, she looked absolutely awful. Her face was thin and drawn, her eyes reddened, her hair— “What is that? What is that in my hair?”
She reached up, lifting the strands above her right temple.
Just as she saw in the mirror, there was a streak of bright white amid her black hair, as if someone had taken a brush and painted every hair in that shock pure white from tip to root. “What is this?”
Flyn put down the mirror. “Lady, I have seen something similar on occasion in someone badly injured or frightened, where the hair loses color seemingly overnight.”
“Like this?”
“Not exactly like that, no.”
“It must be a side effect of the spell,” Alain said. “I could not give you everything I had. That must show what I could not give.”
“Do you sound regretful?” Mari asked. “Do you actually sound sorry? Because you saved my life and couldn’t kill yourself in the process and so I ended up with a streak of white hair? Which everyone who looks at will know marks the fact that my husband literally nearly killed himself to save my life? You’re sorry about that?”
Alain paused, thinking. “I am not supposed to be sorry?”
“No.” She suddenly felt like crying again. It must be because of the stress and her weakness, she told herself. “Everybody is going to look at me funny now anyway. I can just pretend it’s because of my hair. Which will always remind me of how wonderful you are, and how we won when it seemed impossible, and how many other men and women gave their lives for—"
Mari broke off, sobbing, tears running down her face. Flyn waited, patient, until she had regained control.
“There is no shame in it,” Flyn told her. “I have seen many who endured less and displayed it more. I should tell you why I came today. Word has reached the Emperor of how badly his forces were defeated. I am told that the former Mechanics Guild Hall is using their far-talker to tell everyone, and the Mages who accompanied the Imperial attack surely used Mage means to send messages among themselves. A Mage came to us this morning to inform us that the Emperor has decreed an immediate halt to attacks and is sending a very high-ranking delegation to negotiate a permanent end to hostilities. We received the same message through the far-talker at the Mechanics Guild Hall.”
“That’s good.” Mari sighed, relieved. “I guess I’ll need to be involved in that.”
“Yes, you certainly will. Perhaps I should clarify,” Flyn added. “The Imperial delegation is coming to negotiate with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. The daughter.”
Mari stared at the ceiling, then at Alain, then back at Flyn. “What about the leaders of the Bakre Confederation?”
Flyn’s smile was thin and hard. “The Emperor appears to consider their wishes far less important than yours.”
“I can’t bind the Confederation to any peace agreement,” Mari insisted.
“Yes, you can. The Bakre Confederation, the Western Alliance, the Free Cities, and most places not covered by those associations. That’s because the people of those places, who have what seems to be a natural distrust of their own leaders even when they have selected them, have a h
uge amount of trust in you.”
“That’s wrong,” Mari said. “I can’t act like I’m in charge of all of these places. I’m not, and I shouldn’t be.”
Flyn eyed her. Was there something hidden behind his gaze? She couldn’t tell. “Lady, I hope you hold to that. For now, representatives of the Western Alliance and the Free Cities are on their way to Dorcastle. The highest leaders of the Confederation should be here tomorrow. I would advise that you speak with them before the Imperial delegation arrives.”
Mari wanted to scream with frustration. “I’m a Mechanic. An engineer. Not a diplomat. Not a politician. Why am I doing this?”
“Because you’re the only one who can.”
She glowered up at the ceiling. “Generals and Mage elders shouldn’t be telling me the same thing. I want to talk to someone else before I meet with all the representatives. Confederation Vice President Jane and Confederation Vice President Eric. I need to see them.”
“I’ll ensure that is done, Lady,” Flyn said, rising to his feet, coming to attention and saluting. “Lady, I hope I will always be honored to serve you.”
After Flyn had left, Mari looked over at Alain. “Did you notice anything?”
“He was worried,” Alain said. “As he looked at you and spoke with you.”
“Worried for me?”
“Or worried about you,” Alain said.
Chapter Twelve
Vice President Jane’s right arm was completely encased in a cast, held steady by a sling around her neck. The right side of her face had a large bandage on it. “Will you be all right?” Mari asked, upset that she still wasn’t strong enough to stand to greet her visitor. “Where’s Eric?”
Jane sat down heavily. “I should recover, the healers say, though there may be problems with the arm for a long time. A break and some bad burns. I can’t complain. Many suffered worse.” She hesitated. “Like Eric. I regret to inform you that he died during the siege. It was during the retreat from the second wall to the third. We found his body among the others of the rear guard that must have been trapped by the Imperials.” Jane closed her eyes, rubbing them with her good hand. “He died valiantly, I suppose. Eric told me that he wondered how he would respond if it came to that, if he would cower or hide. He didn’t.”