The Dragons of Dorcastle (7 page)

“Even when they disciplined you?”

Mari paused before answering this time. Even though the Mage’s robes covered most of his body, she had spotted the marks of scars on his hands and face. “I don’t know what you mean by discipline, and I don’t think I want to know. Life as a Mechanic apprentice can be pretty harsh, but I’m getting the feeling that you went through a lot worse.”

“It was necessary,” Mage Alain said.

“If you say so,” Mari replied, not willing to debate the issue right now. “But getting back to your question, I ask your opinion because that’s what I do, and you seem to be pretty level-headed even if you do believe crazy things.”

“This was…praise.” Mage Alain watched her intently. “From a Mechanic. Am I supposed to ask how I can ever repay you for saying that?”

She grinned even though her dry, cracked lips made the gesture painful. “That’s up to you. Listen, we’re both worn out. I can’t think straight. Let’s get some sleep and see how things look in the morning.”

“Do you feel safe sleeping here?”

“I won’t feel safe until I get inside the walls of the Mechanics Guild Hall in Ringhmon,” Mari replied. “But for tonight, hopefully this is the last place those bandits will be looking for us.”

She had closed her eyes before it occurred to her that the Mage might actually have been asking about whether she felt safe sleeping near him.

Was he being honest with her? Mages were notorious for their lies. And the way he implied that not revealing his feelings was somehow tied in with that heat thing felt ridiculous. She could build a machine that would create heat, and it wouldn’t matter if she were frowning or smiling the entire time she was at work. Despite the jokes about machines mockingly refusing to work when they knew you needed them, engineering had nothing to do with feelings.

But he had done something. Somehow. A Mage had done something that she couldn’t explain.

A Mage here with her. Her too exhausted to stay awake and alert for anything he might try. Bandits below, so that she dared not struggle or cry out if the Mage attacked her. Situations didn’t get much uglier.

Her last thoughts as she passed out from fatigue were that if she had misjudged Mage Alain, if her decisions to trust him had been wrong, this night could get a lot worse.

The dream came, as it usually did after a difficult day.

Eight-year-old Mari stood in the doorway of her family’s home, staring at the Mechanics who had come for her. Her father protesting, her mother crying as the Mechanics led her away.
You did very well on the tests. You will be a Mechanic.

The dream shifted, Mari watching the streets of Caer Lyn glide by as if she were floating down them. The city watch in chain mail and bearing short swords, common folk watching impotently as the Mechanics passed with Mari and one other child they had collected. Sailing ships crowded the harbor, their masts and spars forming a spiky forest that swayed slowly to the rhythm of the low swells undulating across the water. A single Mechanics Guild steamship headed out to sea, trailing smoke in a long, spreading plume. Then the Mechanics Guild Hall rising before her, the group passing through the gates into rooms where Mari gawked at her first sight of electric lights and the Mechanics carrying their strange weapons.

Another dream-shift, and young Mari was standing before the mail desk at the Guild Hall. She was taller, and wore an apprentice’s uniform with the ease of someone accustomed to the trappings of the Mechanics Guild. On her sleeve was the mark of a second-year apprentice.

The retired Mechanic occupying the desk shook his head sadly, as he always had.
Still nothing for you, Apprentice Mari. The common folk do that, you know: you become a Mechanic and they can’t accept that you’re better than them. They’ve probably even forgotten that today’s your birthday. They just leave you behind. Not like the Guild. We’re your family now
.

They can do that to me,
that younger Mari said, fighting back tears,
but I will never forget anyone
.
I will never leave anyone behind
.

On the desk a letter appeared, but as she grabbed it to look at the address she knew it wasn’t for her.

Mari’s eyes flew open to see the brassy blue morning sky above her. The familiar nightmare born of her memories faded into the waking nightmare of here and now. As her mind brushed aside the cobwebs of sleep, Mari remembered her last waking thoughts the night before and tensed. She looked down at her body. Her clothing hadn’t been disturbed.

Cautiously turning her head, Mari saw that the Mage lay on the other side of the small ledge, as far from her as he could get, head concealed under the cowl of his robes. Just as his feelings lay concealed, she reflected. Maybe he had been as tired as she last night, too tired to act on any male cravings. Or maybe Mage Alain wasn’t like all of the Mages she had heard about.

She lay still for a little while longer, trying to banish the last traces of the all too familiar dream and listening for any sounds from the caravan below them. Finally she fumbled for one of the water bottles, carefully removing the cork and drinking far less than she wanted before resealing it.

Her movements woke the Mage, who sat up gradually and squinted his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. He said nothing, getting water and drinking sparingly, then opening another pack to bring out trail food salvaged from the caravan. He handed some to Mari before taking a bit for himself.

Mari ate slowly, not feeling very hungry as she thought about her dilemma. Yesterday had left little time or energy for thinking, but in the harsh light of morning she was stuck in the desert with a Mage and had no idea how to reach safety. As Alli’s hallucinatory presence had helpfully reminded her, male Mages were infamous for predatory behavior toward any female who took their fancy, and Alain was a male Mage and she was a female.

Still, last night had passed without incident. During the day he hadn’t grabbed at her even when unsteady ground would have offered a convenient pretense. From what she had been told, Mages didn’t even worry about giving excuses for that kind of behavior. But Mage Alain had done nothing to cause her alarm aside from being strange. Strange and dangerous was one thing. Strange and helpful was another.
I wonder if he thinks I’m strange? There would be plenty of Senior Mechanics, and more than one Mechanic instructor at the academy, who would agree with him on that count. The same Senior Mechanics and Mechanics who think all Mechanics should act the same and look the same and think the same.

Give this guy a break, Mari. We can’t be friends…wow, that was weird that I even thought of that…but even if every other Mage is scum, until Mage Alain gives me cause to think of him otherwise, and until we find help, I’ll consider him an unusual ally.

Moving very carefully, she raised herself up to look over the rocks. Figures still walked about the remnants of the caravan, perhaps a half dozen by a quick count. There was no telling how many couldn’t be seen, or might have gone off but still be within hearing range of a gunshot. Slumping back, she shook her head at Alain. “They haven’t left yet.”

He nodded. “I have an idea.” After his silence so far this morning, the lack of any feeling in his voice sounded particularly jarring again.

But Mari gave him a brief smile anyway. “Good. That’s one more idea than I have.”

The Mage looked at her for a moment as if once again trying to understand her words. “I suggest we stay here through the day, resting as best we can. When night falls again we make our way down to the road and walk it toward Ringhmon. In the darkness, we should be as safe as possible if we remain alert.”

“Yesterday you thought the road wouldn’t be safe,” Mari said. “What if those bandits are lying in wait for us along it?”

“We will be better able to escape or fight if it is dark. You have your Mechanic weapon and I have my spells, so we are not helpless. There will be some chance, anyway. The road will have its dangers, but I do not think we have any chance of survival at all if we try to go overland through these heights.”

She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the sun-blasted rocks around them, remembering their painfully slow progress of the day before. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. That road is our only chance. Unless your Guild comes looking for you. Do you think they will?”

“No.”

She should have guessed that. Mages didn’t seem to waste much time on things like optimism, and any Guild that went to so much trouble to convince its members that nothing mattered wouldn’t be highly motivated to care about one Mage whose caravan was overdue.

“What of your Guild?” Mage Alain asked.

“The Mechanics Guild Hall in Ringhmon will eventually send someone to find out what happened to me, but by the time they decided we’d be dead,” Mari said. Wait the mandated period before marking someone overdue, fill out the proper paperwork, get it approved, get authorization to spend Guild funds on a search effort, and so on. The old joke claimed that you could die of old age while waiting for the Guild to officially approve your birth.

Mari looked up at the sky, nerving herself for what she knew she had to do. “All right, Mage Alain. These bandits are after me. Maybe we should split up, so you’ll have a chance.” He said nothing for a long moment. Mari looked over and saw the Mage gazing outward, his eyes unfocused. “Hello?”

The Mage drew a long breath, then shook his head. “I choose not to do that.”

That had been the last thing she had expected. Why would a Mage choose to remain with a Mechanic when his chances would be much better without her? “Why not?”

“If all is an illusion,” Mage Alain said in the slow manner of someone thinking through each word, “it would not matter what path I took. Therefore, I will stay with you.”

“Gee, thanks, you sound so enthusiastic.” Mari glared at him, trying not to show how scared she was at the idea of being alone out here with the bandits searching for her. “Listen, this is real.”

“Nothing is real.”

“Stars above! I’m trying to give you a better chance to survive. Take it, you blasted fool Mage. Yesterday, you came with me to survive. Today, you need to leave me to live. So
do it
.”

Mage Alain looked back at her without expression. “You are giving me orders, Master Mechanic Mari?”

“That would really be effective, wouldn’t it?”

“No. It would not. Was that your sarcasm again?”

Mari gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re as stubborn as I am. How old are you anyway?”

She saw him tense. “I am a Mage.”

“No question. Not a doubt in my mind. So, how old are you, Mage Alain?”

She thought he wouldn’t answer, but then Mage Alain met her eyes. “Seventeen.”

“Really? Is it unusual for a Mage to be that young?”

His eyes searched hers for a moment, as if trying to determine her reason for asking, then the Mage nodded. “I must prove myself,” he added.

“Oh.” Mari sighed again, her anger at his stubbornness fading into guilty relief that he hadn’t accepted her offer. “I know that feeling. I’m eighteen. Youngest Master Mechanic ever. I made Mechanic at sixteen. Unprecedented.” She hated bragging, but her inability to mention what she had accomplished without seeming to boast had worn on her. At least when speaking to a Mage she could talk about it without anyone thinking she was trying to impress. “I passed every test. I know my job. But every Senior Mechanic I meet thinks I’ve been promoted way too fast.”

“Many of my elders think that of me,” Mage Alain said. “Perhaps they are right.” He gestured toward the caravan’s remains. “I did not succeed here, in my first test.”

“Do you think any Mage, any person, could have saved that caravan?” Mari asked. “The people who attacked us had overwhelming force. The caravan never had a chance.”

“But it was my responsibility to protect it. That was the contract.”

She looked at him. “I thought you told me that Mages believe nothing matters. You just said that you would stay with me instead of going off alone and maybe living through this because it didn’t matter.”

“That is so.”

“Then why does what happened to the caravan matter?”

Once again Mage Alain almost frowned, the merest creasing of his brow, but said nothing.

“Actually,” Mari continued, “I agree that it does matter. But I also think you did the best anyone could’ve done. I mean that. You were willing to stand and die. What more can anyone ask?”

The Mage considered that, then met Mari’s eyes again. “It matters because the commons must remain in fear of Mages, and failure by a Mage might cause the commons to feel less fear. As for asking, more can always be asked of someone.”

Mari felt herself smiling at the irony of that last statement. “It sounds like whoever runs the Mage Guild has some things in common with the people running the Mechanics Guild.” The Guilds were enemies. Hate wasn’t too strong a word for the way Mechanics were taught to think of Mages. Yet she kept hearing things from this Mage that she could identify with.

Before she could say anything else, Mari heard the sound of a voice shouting below and felt a surge of fear.

The Mage peered over the rocks. “They are preparing to leave, I think. We were not overheard.”

“It would probably be better if we kept quiet from now on, anyway.”

He nodded, settling back and closing his eyes, seeming so calm that she couldn’t doubt his earlier declarations of belief that nothing mattered. Mari watched him for a minute, wondering why she had felt an impulse to confide in a Mage of all people. It had been a long time since she had any friends she could talk to freely. Maybe the sun was making her tongue too loose. After all, what did it take to qualify as a Mage? She had been told it merely involved learning enough tricks to fool the commons. But that was wrong. Mage Alain had clearly been put through physical challenges far worse than those which Mari had faced, and there was that superheat thing he had done.

They can’t really do anything
, more than one Senior Mechanic had told her dismissively. No one had ever contradicted them.