The Guild (15 page)

“So, Longshanks . . . will you please come with me to the Consulate meeting this evening and discuss your ideas for a new sort of Patronage with the rest? You can consider it a part of your official duties as a Gearman, and thus a Sub-Consul, a representative of Guilds that cannot make it to the meeting. Only in this case, you’re representing a new sort of Guild that doesn’t exist yet.”

She wasn’t quite swayed, but his words did make sense. “I’ll think about it. And . . . I might attend the meeting. But I won’t go straight to the temple. It’d be smarter to contact one of the other Servers who was working there and ask them to discreetly see if they can find out if the priests know I’m smarter than I pretended to be, while trying to fetch my coat and my cap for me.”

“I suppose that could be done instead,” Alonnen allowed. “The priests’ll have to open up at some point for food supplies, if nothing else. As much as I’d love to get a scrying crystal in there . . . not at the risk of your life, no.”

Studying him, Rexei wondered. And then she wondered if he would be offended if she asked. Since she had learned in thirty different apprenticeships that the only way to learn fast and far was to ask, she asked, “What are
you
thinking? About all of this. Mekha vanishing, the kingdom collapsing, a new God or Goddess, Guildra . . . everything.”

He raised his brows at the question. Lacing his fingers over his chest, he tapped his pinkie fingers against the brushed-flannel wool of his shirt. “Quite a lot, actually. Even without the threat of demonic invasion, we’d still have to deal with the priesthood somehow. Some
might
be willing to disband and take up other livelihoods . . . but these are, one and all, boys and men who grew up understanding that the priesthood had the greatest power in the land.”

“They could take anything, do anything, and they answered to no one but another priest . . . unless it was the combined weight of the guilds. But even then, not even the strongest of Consulates dared resist all that hard,” Rexei agreed, letting her head drop against the padded back of the chair. “I got the lectures when I became a Gearman.”

“And ‘Gearman’s strength shall then endow,’” Alonnen murmured, eyeing her speculatively. Her head lifted up off the chair and her brows came down in a wary frown. He flicked a hand partly in dismissal and partly in acknowledgment. “You’re definitely mixed up in all this. I can see it.”

Her mildly wary look shifted into a much more nervous one. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he argued lightly.

“No, I’m
not
,” Rexei asserted, sitting up a little.

Re-lacing his fingers together, Alonnen shrugged. “Yes, you
are
.”

“It’s coincidence, nothing more,” she tried to dismiss him. That only earned her a chiding look.

“We have exactly
one
kingdom between us and Fortuna, and that’s not far enough away to escape the Threefold God’s sight. Even nations on the
far
side of the world have heard of Fate and acknowledge Them as the oldest and strongest of all the Gods.” Alonnen reminded her, “You
are
the Gearman in question.”

“I’m just a journeyman!” Rexei protested, throwing up her hands as she sat forward. She dropped them onto her knees, so used
to pretending to be a half-mannered youth that she didn’t bother with sitting decorously. “There are hundreds of master-class Gearmen all across Mekhana. Or whatever it is we should start calling ourselves, now. Mekha was nothing more than a False God, propped in place by false priests, refusing to die even though He was struck dead with the collapse of the last Convocation two hundred years ago. I refuse to call myself a Mekhanan now that He is gone. I want nothing to do with Him, not even my nation’s name.”

“Well, if you believe the guilds should have a Patron Goddess named Guildra, then it only makes sense to call ourselves Guildarans or something, and thus Guildara for the kingdom,” Alonnen agreed. Then pointed a finger at her. “And no getting us off the subject. You
are
the Gearman of the prophecy. Which means, if we’re going to scrape together enough of what used to be Mekhana to be strong enough to stop demon-summoning priests, we’ll need your promised strength.”

“That’s just it!” Rexei exclaimed, agitated enough to shove to her feet as she spread her arms. “I don’t
have
any! Strength implies standing your ground—I
run
from confrontations! Strength is all about facing down your fears. I bolt at the first sign of trouble and pick out a new name and a new life at the drop of a knitted cap! And I’d have done it last night, if there’d been any way to avoid your brother.”

Alonnen remained sprawled in his chair, but he did dip his head in acknowledgment. “That’s fair. Your plethora of Guild apprenticeships are a clear sign of just how many times you’ve run. But Rexei, dear,” he told her, giving her a pointed, level look, “you’ve also stood your ground.”

“When?” she asked, though even as she spoke, she recalled a few times from the last full day.

“When you questioned me, for one. Admittedly, anyone who actually
knows
I’m a Guild Master wouldn’t have dared contradict
me or demand answers before obeying—and even now that you do know it, you’re still saying
no
to me,” he said a touch tartly. He softened it with a wry look. “Not that I’m going to object. It’s good to hear a flat-out
No
every once in a while, and several sessions of
Why
per week, for that matter. But from the sound of it, you said you had to stop playing a dull-witted Server on the temple steps so that you could stop a riot. If you truly had no strength to stand your ground, no strength to insist that everyone hold it together and act in a lawful manner, you’d have scuttled off and fled. Right? . . .
Right?
”

Defeated by his logic, she sank back down onto her chair again, elbows braced on her knees. The position always reminded her of how tightly she bound her breasts and of the padding wrapped around her waist. It was comforting, yet restrictive at the same time. Sighing, she scrubbed her fingers through her short-cropped locks. “I don’t even have the courage to say the
M
word out loud.”

“Well, it’s not like
I’ve
had a choice,” Alonnen shot back. At her skeptical look, he rolled so that he slouched on his elbow and his hip instead of his back. That left him angled just enough to give her an earnest look. “I
am
the Guild Master of the Mages Guild, Rexei. I have to be able to say the
M
word, and say it so comfortably and easily that it puts other
M
types at ease,” he half teased. “As the Guild Master, I cannot be afraid of who and what I am. Besides, I only ever say words like
mage
and
mages
while I’m
in
the Vortex, within its protections. I’m not a fool. Outside of the dam’s vicinity, I’m just the Guild Master of the Lubrication Guild, a subset of the Hydraulics Guild. But if Mekha
is
gone . . .”

“Don’t risk it,” Rexei found herself ordering. He blinked at her, but she lifted her chin, standing her ground on that point. “If what
you
implied is true, that the Convocation of the Gods was indeed restarted, and that Mekha was . . . I don’t know what happened . . . but one hopes by the pricking of our thumbs that He was revealed
as a False God and struck down by the other Gods and Goddesses.
If
all of that, then m-mages
might
be safe,” she managed to say without tripping too much on the
M
word. “But we also don’t know what it takes to bind a demon, or even if they
will
bind a demon. The priests might just go back to snatching up our kind and sucking the energy out of them again, and
you’d
be the juiciest goose in the butcher’s shop.”

He tipped his head, acknowledging her point. “That may be an actual problem . . . and that may be why not every town with a temple in it has reported seeing its prisoners being released. I could almost wish they
would
turn to demons instead of our fellow mages . . . but Guardian Kerric of the Tower has repeatedly seen prophetic scryings of a Netherhell invasion. Demons fighting warriors and mages and everyone else.” He sighed heavily, slumping a little more in his chair. “And I wouldn’t wish
that
on anyone else, save that most of the visions seem to have the invasion starting from
here
.”

Rexei frowned in thought. She rubbed her forehead, then stroked her palm over her short, dark locks. “That prophecy you gave me to read . . . you mentioned something last night when you handed it over about ‘the others.’ I presume the Guardians we spoke with think that the demonic problems will spring up in several nations?”

“This one and five more to come, yes,” Alonnen said. “The first verse of one of the prophecies seems to have come true in Guardian Kerric’s homeland, and we think the second was about Guardian Saleria. She’s off at the Convocation of Gods and Man, though, and there’s no easy way to chat with either her, Guardian Dominor, Guardian Serina, or Guardian Rydan right now. If we’re the third verse, then the fourth of eight will probably be Mendhi, far to the east and south.”

“Since the lines mentioned a Painted Lord, yes, that makes even a Mekhanan think of the Painted Warriors of Mendhi,” Rexei agreed.
Clasping her hands between her felt-covered knees, she gave him a keen, penetrating look. “If we can send them on their way, if the prophecy is
about
sending these demon-minded priests on their way to their prophesied point of doom . . . then
how
do we go about it? What little I overheard made it sound like they come in different strengths. One mage can hold one or two minor demons, but if they summon a major demon with the aid of many priests—and they’re far more trained in magics than we are—then how can
we
stop them?”

The lad—the
lass
was a lot smarter than she looked. Not just educated, but smart, able to cut to the heart of the important questions. Alonnen slipped his right leg off the armrest and pushed his body upright with his left arm. Echoing Longshanks’ pose, he rested his elbows on his knees as well. “This has actually come up in some of the discussions the other Guardians and I have been holding over the last few weeks. And oddly enough,
you
just might have the best solution.”

“Me?” Rexei touched her flat-bound chest, bemused by his assertion. “If this is more nonsense about me having a Gearman’s strength . . .”

He shook his head. “Not that. Not exactly. There are two Guardians in the empire of Fortuna. One of them, Guardian Suela of Fortune’s Nave, ransacked some of the oldest libraries outside Mendham. As did Guardian Tipa’thia of the Great Library of Mendham, in Mendhi. And her apprentice, Pelai. They both agreed that the few old records of demonic fighting included the fact that the
priesthoods
of the various afflicted lands were able to turn back the demons as surely as if they’d one and all been mages . . . only not all of them
were
mages. The records said that some quality of being a ‘true priest’ granted them the power, the ability, to cast demons back into the Netherhells.”

She blinked and sat up. “So . . . my thoughts on Guildra, on manifesting ourselves a Patron Deity, might actually be helpful?”

“Yes. But in order to do that, we’ll need to
not
be inundated with all these ex-prisoner mages,” Alonnen said, sitting back. He crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. “We’ll need order instead of chaos. We’ll need organization. Because if we’re
not
fighting each other, then we’ll be able to concentrate as a nation—or whatever corner we can grab of it—on worshipping a manifestation of faith and belief. And I think you’ve hit the nail on the head squarely with the thought of a Patron of Guilds.”

“The Guild System has kept the priests shut out of our lives as much as it can,” she agreed. “We all believe in the guilds. But they have to step up and take responsibility for what’s happening. No one group, not even the Precinct militia, can impose order on all the others. Every guild stands equal in the Consulates for the laws affects us all. One Guild, one voice, one vote. I’ve actually had to stand
in
for all the missing Guilds, even the ones I haven’t been a member of, for those times in my Messenger days when I’d take some problem to a distant Consulate only to find I’d have to represent those who had sent me when the Consulate had to make a decision based on the information I’d brought.”

“Then you’ll go to the Consulate meeting tonight,” he stated, not making it a question. She drew in a breath to speak, but Alonnen held up his hand. “Not to represent
this
Guild, because I’ll be there . . . but because
you
need to represent the new . . . well, the new
holy
Guild that needs to be formed. If we’re going to get a new Patron Deity, Longshanks,
someone
is going to have to represent the rest of us and organize our worship and . . . and figure out what sorts of ceremonies there will be, and what sorts of holy days.

“Somehow, I doubt we’re going to want to keep celebrating Resurrection Day,” he added tartly. “Not if the Dead God is finally
gone.
”

“Well, no,” she muttered, agreeing with him. “But
me
? Organize a new priesthood? The only things I know about the priesthood come from the nightmares that destroyed my family, and . . .
and what little I observed in the two months I spent spying on the current lot.”

“Then you’ll know what
not
to put into the new order. More importantly, Longshanks,” he stressed, pointing at her, “you’re a Gearman who’s been at the very least an apprentice in, what, roughly thirty Guilds? I seem to remember about that many medallions among your things. I don’t know of anybody who has apprenticed in more than ten.”

“That’s hardly a qualification, Tallnose,” she shot back. “I’m a journeyman in only three of them, and no master of any.”

“On the contrary, you’re
still
fooling me into thinking you’re a male, so you’re bound to be master class in the Actors Guild by now.
And
you spent the last two months walking into and out of the Heiastowne temple under the very noses of the priesthood without getting caught,” he countered. “That’s worthy of a master’s rank right there. I’ll even put your name up for it, next time I chat with the Grand Master of Actors.”