The Dragons of Dorcastle (30 page)

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 cho
o
se 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.

Soon enough they were passing the outer defenses of the city, sentries standing on ballista towers gazing down at the Mechanic train. They arrived surprisingly quickly at the Mechanics’ station in Dorcastle, and the train groaned to a stop, this time with only a faint echo of the screaming of metal on metal.

None of the commons went in the direction of the locomotive, instead heading along a plainly marked route into the city. Alain stayed with them, walking steadily away from the Mechanic train. The thread stayed with him, offering an illicit sense of comfort as it pointed back toward the locomotive. The elders at Ringhmon had not sensed the thread, but that was no guarantee the elders here would not. If they did, he had a series of outwardly accurate but misleading answers for them. Not every lesson an acolyte learned was one intended by the elders.

As the crowd broke apart and dwindled, Alain found an isolated spot and pulled on his Mage robes, not trying to suppress the feeling of calm brought by the familiarity of the robes. It had been surprisingly hard to pretend to be a common. After so much training in hiding his feelings, the need to avoid showing that he was avoiding showing emotions had been amazingly tiring. He spotted another Mage, got directions to the Guild Hall and before the sun had sunk much past noon had reached the place that would hopefully prove a more welcoming sanctuary than the Mage Guild Hall in Ringhmon had been.

The acolyte at the entrance bowed Alain inside. “This one will perform any tasks needed by the Mage.”

Alain paused to look at the acolyte, memories of his own time as an acolyte filling him.
How long did it take for them to make you forget what a friend was? Did you ever try to help another acolyte? Do you find comfort only in the wisdom of the Guild, because there is none in the presence of the shadows and illusion which surrounds you? These are not the questions your elders will ever pose, but now they cannot be banished from my mind.

By the time Alain had dumped his now-empty bag in one of the rooms set aside for Mages traveling through the city, he had already received a message to report to the elders of this Hall. Ushered into a small office, Alain could not help feeling relieved that this time he was not being subjected to an Inquiry right off.

The old Mage seated behind her desk waved Alain to a seat with unusual informality. “Greetings, Mage Alain.–Your age has been a source of astonishment to our acolytes. They have been forced to work harder to conceal their emotions.” She showed open amusement for a moment, a Mage’s smile which barely moved the mouth and then vanished, but still it startled Alain. “Mage Alain, have you heard of the troubles our Guild faces in this city?”

“I have heard of dragons,” Alain admitted.

“Yes! Dragons! Behaving as they should not. As they cannot. But if all the world is false, why should not our understanding of our spells prove false on occasion as well?” The old Mage sighed, once again showing emotion. “You will find few Mages here. Except for a few kept on hand in case they are needed to defend the Hall, the rest are scouring likely dragon lairs in the area. Do you know of the means by which Mages can search? Good, good. One so young, I can take nothing for granted. You understand. But so far, all our efforts have been in vain.” She sighed again. “It is frustrating.”

Alain tried not to stare at the old Mage. To speak of feelings like frustration? This elder’s failings must be tolerated because of her experience and past contributions to the Guild. “My understanding is that the search methods should easily find a spell creature as large as a dragon, let alone more than one.”

“Should, yes,” the elder agreed. “Yet we find nothing. No Mage sensed the creation of the dragons, even though such spells should have been apparent to our senses. There is something else at work. We have not discovered what it is, but suspicions are that Dark Mages have foolishly tampered with the wisdom that guides the nature of dragon spells.”

“I did not know that was possible,” Alain said.

“It is not possible. The illusion is perceived to be the same by all, and all must follow the same patterns in working their spells or the spells fail. A dragon can only be a dragon. I have reminded the other elders of this, but still they seek the kind of dragon that cannot be created by any spell. Little wonder they fail,” she grumbled. The old Mage stood and walked with difficulty to a shelf. “If you wish to study, Mage Alain, I have some texts.”

“I have already studied those,” Alain said.

“Have you? Well, one so young.” She stood irresolute for a moment, then came back to her chair and sat down. “There is nothing in those texts to help with this. I know that. Now, as to you.”

It had not occurred to him that he might have immediate obligations to his Guild which would prevent him from meeting Mari tomorrow evening. But Mari would surely understand if that happened. “I will join whichever search party you think I can best serve.”

The old Mage blinked, then actually smiled reassuringly for an instant. “No. Dragons are a threat for the most experienced to face. As for other service, I cannot offer you chance of employment soon, because all in and around the city blame our Guild for this plague of dragons and are refusing us contracts until we halt the predations of the spell creatures.”

“Lady Mage,” Alain said in his most formal voice, “honored elder, allow me to serve with the other qualified Mages.”

“No, Mage Alain.”

“I do not need protecting. I can protect the interests of the Guild.”

“Yes, yes.” The old Mage tapped her desk with the fingers of one hand. “I have seen the report of your attempt to defend the caravan. You did not know it had been sent to us? But of course the Guild Hall in Ringhmon wanted us to know what you have done. It is well you have not been discouraged by that failure, but still you must redouble your efforts to master wisdom and our arts.” She gave him a searching look. “And this female Mechanic who stalked you in that city. Strange business. Be satisfied that you are away from that one. Whatever hoax the deceitful little minx was planning, you are safely clear of it and the other temptations Ringhmon offers.”

So the Guild Hall in Ringhmon had used a message Mage to send a report on Alain to the hall in Dorcastle even before Alain arrived. He ought to feel flattered that they had gone to that much effort, except that even this old Mage with her very un-Magelike sympathy had obviously read things in it which cast Alain as not ready for full Mage duties. She also clearly shared the opinion of the elders in Ringhmon as to the threat to him posed by a female Mechanic. “Elder, I am capable of assisting the Guild in this matter.”

She shook her head. “Mage Alain, rest, study and be ready if this Hall should be attacked by these dragons. Then we shall need everyone who can work spells.”

“Will you inform the other elders that I am ready to assist them?”

This time the old Mage nodded. “Very well, Mage Alain. Your dedication to the interests of the Guild will be noted.”

He felt like a fraud for a moment, a vision of the “deceitful little minx” Mari filling his memory, but the Guild had taught him to hide even the worst emotions, and the elder did not seem to be paying too much attention to his reactions anyway.