The Dragons of Dorcastle

Chapter Seven

The next morning, Alain had barely finished his filling but tasteless breakfast when an acolyte informed him that his presence was required in another part of the Hall. Alain followed the acolyte, not looking forward to explaining the fate of the caravan.

Alain found himself led into a darkened room. The acolyte bowed his way out, shutting the door and leaving Alain alone to face the vague shapes of Mages seated before him. He could not see their faces, but they could see him clearly thanks to a shaft of light coming from a lamp positioned near his face. Alain had never experienced an Inquiry before, but clearly his elders were now calling him to account for his failure.

A woman’s voice spoke without feeling. “We are told you were in the company of a Mechanic for days.”

“A Mechanic escaped the destruction of the caravan with me,” Alain confirmed, surprised that the Inquiry had led off with that question.

“Why?”

“She sought safety from the bandits.”

“Do not mock us, youthful Mage!” The emotionless voice managed to hold a harsh edge. “Why did this Mechanic accompany you? Why did she seek safety with you?”

“She—” Ordered me to accompany her? No. I should not say that. “We were the only two survivors. She said that she believed we had a higher chance of surviving together.”

“You spoke with her.” The flat words nonetheless carried a surprising amount of force and condemnation.

“Yes. She is a shadow. Whether I speak with her or not does not matter, for she is nothing.” Let them condemn that.

The following pause might have meant they were searching for grounds to deny his reasoning, but if so could not come up with any. “The Mechanic gave no other cause for attaching herself to you?”

Thinking up a lie would require a delay which the elders would spot. Alain answered immediately and tonelessly. “She said that she did not want me to die.”

“An obvious lie,” a man’s voice declared. “No Mechanic would care about the fate of a Mage. Could you not tell it was a lie?”

The less said this time the better. He did not want to betray to these elders how the Mechanic had affected him. “No. I did not see deception in her when the Mechanic said that.”

“Too young,” one of the elders grumbled tonelessly. “A capable Mage would have seen the lie. The Mechanic must have wanted something. What did she ask of you?”

Alain had to think this time before answering. The Mechanic had actually asked very little of him that he could recall. “She asked me how I created fire. She did not understand how I could do it. I did not tell her.”

The third shadowy figure spoke, his voice that of an old man. “Of course she could not understand. Surely you had at least enough sense to not waste your time trying to explain wisdom to a Mechanic? What else did you tell her? What did she want?” the old Mage continued, his voice becoming accusatory enough for the emotion to be obvious.

“She wanted to survive,” Alain repeated, unable to think what else his elders expected him to say. She would not drink the last of the water and leave me. He did not understand that himself. How could he explain it to these elders?

The woman spoke again, suspicion shading the blandness of her tone. “This Mechanic was a female? A young one?”

“Yes, elder.”

“You are young as well.”

“Yes, elder.”

“What did she attempt with you? Did she ensnare you?”

“Ensnare me?” Alain asked, not sure what that meant.

“Did she seduce you, fool, while you were alone together?”

Alain could not remember the last time he had laughed. It had been a very long time ago. The absurdity of this question almost caused him to gasp with something that might have sounded a bit like laughter, though, which would have angered his elders beyond measure. It took all of Alain’s training to snuff out that sound before it reached his lips. “No, elder. The Mechanic never approached me in any way.”

“She never touched you?”

“Once. She touched me once.” As far as Alain could recall, there had been only one time when the Mechanic had initiated a touch, and he would be a fool indeed to volunteer that he had one time extended a hand to her.

“Once?” The elder pounced on that.

“I was weak from casting spells to kill bandits. She took my arm and helped me stand.”

The silence was longer this time. Then one of the elders said a single word. “Helped?”

Alain hoped desperately that no emotion was showing on his face. “That is what she called it.” Not a lie. No. He had told these elders exactly what had happened. Would they press him on whether he understood what the word meant?

Another pause, then the elders apparently decided not to pursue an issue that might awaken the wrong memories in Alain. “She teased you with her touch, then withheld her gifts,” the woman elder said. “Did she display herself, offer the promise of her gifts in the future?”

“Display herself?” What could that mean?

“Did she flaunt her body before you?” the elder demanded.

Alain could not think of anything which the Mechanic had done which qualified as flaunting. He was not certain exactly what “flaunting” meant. He had been around only female Mages or acolytes since he was very young, and all of them followed Mage teachings to take little notice of physical appearance or physical desires. That certainly was not flaunting.

The Mechanic had not seemed all that different. She clearly kept herself clean when not fleeing bandits in the desert, but she also had not worn the heavy make-up that Alain had noticed on some common women. Common attempts to create their own illusions of beauty, another elder had said contemptuously to Alain before he left the Guild Hall in Ihris.

But none of those women, who had displayed much more flesh than he had ever seen of the Mechanic, had seemed so…interesting. Why had they settled into a barely recalled blur while she remained clear in his memory?

He had been aware of the Mechanic’s body. He had sometimes found himself watching her walk when he was behind her, and even though she had kept her jacket on almost all of the time, Alain had caught glimpses of her wet shirt clinging to her. The memories of those sights had been troubling his nights since then. “She wore a shirt which was sometimes soaked with sweat—”

“Ah.” That answer had pleased the elders into showing their feelings. “And tight trousers, no doubt.”

“She wore trousers, elder,“ Alain confirmed.

They had not been tight trousers.

Though where those trousers had been tightest across the back…

No. No. No. Do not think on it.

Some trace of his own discomfort must have been noticeable, because satisfaction could still be heard in the voice of the elder who asked the next question. “How did she act toward you, young Mage?”

What answers did they seek? He knew that, and so he gave his own answers in a form that was accurate and yet matched the expectations of the elders. “She tried to give orders to me. She made decisions on her own. She was stubborn.“

“Of course.”

She was intelligent, resourceful, and steadfast…she saved my life. She asked my advice and listened to it. Somehow she has caused me to remember things that I should not. But Alain left all of those words unspoken. Why should he say them? These elders would be the first to tell him that nothing was real. Why invite their displeasure by saying things they certainly did not want to hear?

Especially when he could not explain any of it. The Mechanic, her actions, did not match all that he had been taught about Mechanics. But if I tell the elders that, they will accuse me of failing to show wisdom, even if they also cannot explain it.

And so I will say nothing of such things. For that is wisdom here.

“Even one so young as you should know that Mechanics do nothing without purpose, Mage Alain,” said the oldest of the elders, “and those purposes are always contrary to the welfare of the Mage Guild. You traveled with this Mechanic in the same caravan before it was attacked. Did she seek you out before then?”

“No,” Alain answered, certain his voice was betraying no emotion this time. “She spent the entire journey before the attack in her wagon. I was not even aware of the presence of a Mechanic until during the attack.”

The woman asked the next question, her voice still frigid despite its detachment. “Why did you allow her to accompany you? Why did you not leave her to her fate?”

“I was contracted to protect the caravan. Since the Mechanic was a member of the caravan, and the Mage Guild had contracted my protection for all in the caravan, I felt required to protect her as well.”

“That is a lawyer’s argument, Mage. Wisdom born of more experience would have told you that your services were to the caravan master, not to some Mechanic who will surely continue to work against the welfare of your Guild.”

Alain inclined his head toward the dim figures, even though he thought their arguments had more of the lawyer to them than had Alain’s own statement. “This one understands.”

“You should have refused to speak with this Mechanic,” the first elder insisted. “You should have left her to her own devices in the Waste. A more experienced Mage would have known this.”

The other two elders sitting in the room made noises of agreement. Alain almost frowned at the thought of leaving Mechanic Mari to die in the Waste before he remembered to block any show of emotion. These three had already sent barbs about his youth his way.He might as well ask a question suited for an acolyte, since they apparently expected nothing more. “This one has questions.”

There was a noticeable pause before one of the male elders answered. “This one listens.”

“The caravan I was to protect was attacked by bandits armed with Mechanic weapons. I saw one of these Mechanic weapons closely, though of course I did not touch it. I have been told that Mechanic weapons are elaborate fakes of limited use. Yet the weapons I faced were deadly beyond anything I have heard of.”

“We are aware you reported this,” the woman noted in a dismissive voice. “You are young. The Mechanics are clever enough in their own way. Their tricks are complicated and difficult for one unskilled to see through. Did these weapons slay you? No. Your skills, limited though they are in one so young, were enough to overcome the Mechanic weapons.”

“But the caravan was destroyed.”

“That is no matter to us. You said that only you and this Mechanic survived. You will tell no one of the fate of the caravan, and no one will believe a Mechanic’s tale. Some shadows are gone, but the illusion remains.”

Alain stood silently, trying to accept the words of his elders, knowing that they were right, that the fates of shadows and illusions didn’t matter. But he had been personally responsible for protecting the caravan. He remembered the faces of the caravan master and the guard commander. Nothing but shadows. But they had expected him to protect them.

Shadows. His parents had been shadows. They had died at the hands of raiders perhaps not much different from the bandits of the Waste. He had not been able to save them, either. Alain felt a sudden certainty that he would never be able to disregard the fates of shadows. Perhaps that was the reason he had stayed with the Mechanic. It was a terrible error, a failure of wisdom, a betrayal of what he had been taught. In that, my elders are right. I have failed my Guild. I will never be a great Mage.

“Do you have anything else to report?” one of the elders asked. “Your spells worked properly? There were no changes in your skills?”

He could mislead them about that, too, but Alain decided not to. The odd sense of urgency generated by his last vision prodded him to say more. “I experienced foresight. It is one of my skills now.”

“Foresight,” the oldest muttered. “Of all Mage arts, the most useless and the most dangerous. Paying attention to foresight is a certain way to cripple your Mage skills by making the world illusion seem too real. You should know that. What do they teach acolytes these days?”

“I was so taught, elder,” Alain replied. “I did not seek foresight.”

“Finally, some sign of wisdom in you.”

“Elder,” Alain said in the most emotionless voice that he could manage, “I saw a vision which seemed to warn of great danger.”

“To you?” the elder asked.

“I do not know, elder. I saw a threatening storm, and—”

“Enough,” the elder cut off Alain abruptly. “What you saw was simply the illusion of danger created by your mind after the attack on the caravan. It was an echo. Nothing more. A wise Mage would say nothing more of this.”

Alain did not say anything else, wondering why, despite the elder’s attempt to sound completely uninterested, an undercurrent of tension had been apparent in his voice. And he had cut off Alain’s description of the vision. It was as if Alain’s words, or the vision itself, had actually upset him.

The woman addressed him again, her voice stern in its indifference. “You have much to learn. That is obvious. Even an acolyte should know not to speak of meaningless visions born of the misleading art of foresight. I do not understand how the Guild could have given you full Mage status at your age.”

“The Guild did not give me Mage status,” Alain said. “I earned my status by demonstrating my skills to the satisfaction of the elders of the Mage Guild Hall in Ihris.” To the satisfaction of most of those elders, anyway. They had known him and judged him based on his skills, not his age.

“We must accept the decisions of those elders even if we do not approve of them,” the woman said in a way that made it clear she did not actually accept what the elders of Ihris had done. “Here you are subject to the elders of this Guild Hall. Learn from their experience. The ability to work spells does not mean a Mage has the wisdom to act as one should.”

“This one understands,” Alain replied, a formal acceptance of the elders’ words that should have ended the discussion. He had no interest in hearing more declarations of his inadequacy.

But the elders were not going to let him go yet. “You must practice your basic skills. Focus your mind away from the falsehoods of foresight and unto the wisdom your elders have given you. Your inability to defeat a small gang of bandits shows that you lack confidence in your powers.”

Alain tensed, fighting not to reveal any anger. “This one understands.”

“If this Mechanic attempts to approach you again, you must not speak to her. You must have no more contact with any Mechanic. You will report any such attempts at contact to the elders here.”

“This one understands.”

“Then this may end.” Alain saw one of the shadowy figures raise a hand. The shutters blocking high windows fell open and light entered.

The woman and two men came forward, their impassive faces a bit jarring after the bland hostility of the Inquiry. “How long will you stay in Ringhmon, Mage Alain?” the woman asked.

“I have not decided,” Alain answered. “I must see what employment opportunities exist here.”

“There are few,” the oldest Mage grumbled. “Very few. Ringhmon squanders too much of its treasure on Mechanic toys. Vain fools.”

Alain nodded respectfully. “Then perhaps I shall see the city and learn more of it.”

“Why?” the third Mage asked. “It is all false. Seeing the false brings you nothing.”

“I do not know if my services will ever bring me to Ringhmon again,” Alain said. “I should become familiar with even the false image of the city, enough to be able to serve as my Guild requires. After all, I am young and have much to learn.”

Yet another thing that the Mechanic had done to him. What had she called such speech? Sarcasm? When was the last time he had spoken in such a way, knowing that he was mocking the words he said?

But he hid the mockery very well, or else the elders did not recognize it, because the three Mage elders nodded in approval. “A few days, then,” the woman said as if Alain had already agreed to the time frame. “No one will learn the fate of the last caravan you protected, so any other caravan leaving the city will be glad to have you since you do not command the same price as more experienced Mages.”

Marveling at the elders’ abilities to get in digs aimed at his capabilities and youth, Alain nodded again. “Then, if there is nothing else, I will take leave of the Guild Hall so that I may see what there is to be learned in the city of Ringhmon.”

The woman shook her head. “Go if you will, but keep your nose close. Do not stick it in places where it might get cut off, young Mage.”

The oldest almost grimaced. “Dark Mages. An ugly thing, but you know of them. They are here in some numbers, drawn by offers of employment from the city. Oh, the city denies it, but we know they hire Dark Mages. You do not want to encounter one of them, young Mage.”

Wishing they would stop commenting on his youth, Alain began backing toward the door. “I shall remain alert and wary.”

Once outside the chamber where the Inquiry had been held, safely alone in an otherwise empty hallway, Alain stopped for a moment to think and recover his full composure. A small gang of bandits. They give me no credit at all. They did not accept my words. What would they have said had I died there? It would have been my fault, my own failure due to youth and lack of experience, and none would have ever blamed Mechanic weapons, which are deadlier than any crossbow.

They said I should have left the Mechanic and let her die. Perhaps I should have, before she twisted my own thoughts. But twice she would not leave me to die. Am I to be less than a Mechanic?

They asked if she had “displayed her gifts.” Alain thought of the Mechanic’s dusty, sweat streaked face and the drab jacket she insisted upon wearing even in the worst heat. The gifts she displayed were those of who she was. Shadow she may be, but I…liked the person I saw there. I had forgotten how it felt, to be in the company of another and to wish it to continue. What fate made her a Mechanic and me a Mage?

Startled that such a thought had even come to him, Alain tried to banish his memories of the Mechanic. Like? She has made me remember “like”? I must not let her lead me farther astray. But I also must not let the elders here disorder my thoughts. If I dwell on their criticisms it will make it hard to concentrate on my spells, maybe even weaken them so that my abilities as a Mage could be called into question.

Perhaps that is what they intend.

This Mechanic…is different. I have felt a strange restlessness since my last vision. A vision centered on her.

Why did the elders react the way they did to my report of that vision?

Feeling tired and irritable after a bad night’s sleep, Mari got breakfast amid the other Mechanics, all of whom appeared stand-offish now. She was used to that attitude from Senior Mechanics, but not from others. It was almost as if they had been warned not to speak with her.

Cara caught her eye long enough to deliver a cautionary look, then glanced away.

Apparently they had been told not to speak with her.

A female Senior Mechanic came up to the table where Mari was eating alone and glowered down at her. “You’re to see Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon immediately.”

“As soon as I’m done eating—”

“Immediately.”

Mari nodded slowly, then got up with equal slowness and walked unhurriedly from the room. Childish, she reproached herself. Keep acting like a child and you’ll be giving them ammunition against you. But she sped up only a little after that.

Mari accompanied the woman through the Guild Hall, along corridors which reeked of age and were familiar even though she had never walked them. Every Guild Hall was built to the same floor plan. Only furnishings and art differed from Hall to Hall, except in the Imperial capital of Palandur, of course, where the basic plan had been repeated twice to accommodate the demands of the Guild headquarters building.

Stimon’s office was very large, as in every Guild Hall, and very well appointed, which wasn’t always the case. Senior Mechanic Stimon sat behind a huge desk made of highly polished wood from the far southern tropics, the sort of wood that had become much harder to get since the Kingdom of Tiae had fallen apart. The female Senior Mechanic directed Mari to enter, then closed the door, staying outside.

Stimon waved Mari to the plain seat before his desk. She noted he hadn’t risen from his own comfortable chair to greet her.

He nodded at her as if they were meeting for the first time. “Welcome to Ringhmon. I trust you enjoyed the courtesy of this hall last night, after you arrived safely.”

Mari’s temper flared but she managed to keep her voice calm. Needle me, will you? Let’s see how you like it. “The accommodations were adequate, but the air cooling unit was malfunctioning.”

Stimon froze for a moment at the implied criticism of his Guild Hall, then nodded. “I’ll look into that. Some apprentice doing substandard work, no doubt.”

“Surely your apprentices are supervised by full Mechanics when working?”

This time Stimon’s smile was strained. “That’s usually the case. I’ll make sure someone repairs the unit.”

Mari shook her head. “I already fixed it. It only took a moment.”

The smile vanished. “Mechanics are required to do work only within their area of specialty unless otherwise directed. Surely even someone of your limited experience is aware of that.”

Mari met Stimon’s angry gaze, keeping her own face calm despite another direct jab at her youth. “Surely a Senior Mechanic is aware that Mechanics of Master rank are allowed to direct their own work. Guild regulations are clear on that point.”

Stimon’s face darkened, but he quickly changed the subject. “The Guild wanted your presence in the caravan to remain unknown so as to ensure the contract with Ringhmon remained confidential. Your presence has in fact been made public.”

“Yes. You told me to report as soon as possible. That meant walking openly through the town.”

The Guild Hall Supervisor gave her an appraising look that quickly hardened. “You compromised your presence before that.”

Mari took a long, slow breath before replying. “As I told you, the caravan was attacked by a heavily armed force. I had to escape, which meant leaving the wagon in which I’d been confined.”

“So you say. But you said the caravan was wiped out. Did anyone else see you or these bandits you say attacked?”

Mari took a moment to answer. A lie would keep her out of trouble now, but could too easily be found out. Too many people had seen her arriving in the city, and the salt traders knew who her brief traveling companion had been. “One other person.”

“A common? Who?”

“He wasn’t a common.”

“There were no other Mechanics with that caravan,” Stimon said. “Your story isn’t holding up.”

She glowered at the implication that her report had been false. “He was a Mage.”

At least she had finally managed to rattle Stimon’s composure. “A Mage?”

“Yes. He’d been hired by the caravan to help protect it.”

Stimon stared at her. “How do you know that?”

Blast it. She still hadn’t learned to think before talking. That had probably been why Stimon had angered her, to get her to say something without thinking. But now she had no choice but to say the simple truth. “He told me.”

“He. Told. You.” Stimon leaned back, looking stunned. “You spoke with a Mage?”

“Yes.” Leave it at that. See if Stimon would drop it.

Stimon didn’t drop it. “How long were you in a position to speak with this Mage?”

Mari sighed. Just get it over with. “About three days. Alone, that is. Then we met up with some salt traders heading for Ringhmon and traveled with them. I didn’t have any further contact with the Mage after that.”

“After that? You didn’t have any further contact with the Mage after that?” Stimon shook his head in disbelief. “You spent three days alone with a Mage?”

“He and I escaped together. The bandits were chasing me. It seemed preferable to dying,” Mari said.

“Some would prefer death to the sort of things a Mage would do to an unaccompanied girl!”

“What?”

“Don’t pretend ignorance! No wonder your clothes needed laundering so badly! They probably carried his stench from all the times that Mage forced himself on you!”

Mari’s face became very hot as she sprang to her feet. “How dare you? The Mage never touched me! If he’d tried I would’ve blown his head off!”

Stimon glared back. “Are you saying the threat of a weapon kept him from assaulting you?”

“Yes! No! I didn’t have to threaten him! He didn’t try anything! I deeply resent the implication that I would invite or allow any physical contact with a Mage!”

“What did the Mage want, then?” Stimon demanded.

The question hadn’t even occurred to Mari before this because the answer seemed so obvious. “What did he want? To get away from the bandits.”

“He could have done that alone.”

True enough. Mari knew she had to tell the full truth again. “He felt obligated to protect me.”

“A Mage. Felt obligated.”

It did sound absurd, even to her, and she had been there. “He had a contract to protect the caravan, and I was part of the caravan. I don’t know why a Mage cared about that, but he did.”

“You believed that?” Stimon leaned back again, shaking his head. “He must have wanted to spy. What did he find out about Mechanic arts? What did you tell him?”

The Mage’s warning about her job in Ringhmon rose in her mind again, but she hadn’t said anything to him to prompt that. However the Mage might have learned something about her contract, it hadn’t come from her. “I didn’t tell him anything! We just escaped the attack together and then sought safety together.”

Stimon regarded her silently for a moment. “Did you see any of his tricks?”

Mari hesitated. Tricks. That’s all Mages were supposed to be able to do. But that superheat thing had been one amazing trick.

This time she thought before speaking, though. Something about the way Stimon had asked felt wrong. Tricks. A trick question? To get her to admit to what?

To having witnessed something that the Mechanics Guild said did not exist?

Yeah. I really want to admit to that to this guy. Had she actually seen anything when the Mage did that superheat bit? “No.”

Senior Mechanic Stimon’s jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything for some time, then spoke with deceptive quietness. “Alone, with a Mage, for days. Do you have any idea what a gross breach of Guild rules that is?”

Mari felt herself getting angry again. Don’t act like a child. That’s what he wants. How would Professor S’san handle this? The answer came to her. Mari sat down again and assumed a questioning look. “Exactly which rules did I break, Guild Hall Supervisor?”

Stimon glared at her. “Are you actually claiming that you were never told not to associate with Mages?”

“No, Guild Hall Supervisor. I am asking you which Guild rules address conduct toward Mages. I am unaware of any written policy or formal standing orders. I am, however, aware that according to Guild rules I am under an obligation to protect my tools and to carry out my contracts. If I had died in the Waste, my tools would have been lost and my contract would have been forfeited.” Mari gave Stimon her best obedient underling look. “I was following the Guild’s rules in order to serve the Guild’s interests.”

The Senior Mechanic just stared at her, disbelief shading into impotent anger. Then he unexpectedly smiled. “I will, of course, have to ask for proof of the attack on the caravan. Please do not insult both of us by invoking the Mage as a witness. What can you tell me about these bandits? Did you see any faces? Hear anything which would identify them?”

Mari shook her head, wondering what Stimon was up to now. “They were in full desert robes, including coverings for their lower faces, not that I saw many close up. The only detail I know is that they were armed with standard model repeating rifles out of the workshops at Danalee.”

“You’re certain of that?” Stimon asked sharply.

“Yes. I examined one closely.”

“You claim you had one in your possession and you didn’t bring it with you?” the Senior Mechanic asked.

“I was being pursued by the other bandits at the time, and the weapon was broken!” Mari tried again to keep her temper in check. “As it was, I had so much to carry that I barely made it to safety.”

Stimon grimaced, shaking his head. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything more from a…”

“A what? I’m a Master Mechanic and insist that I be treated as such.”

Mari’s words hung in the air for a moment, then Stimon smiled again. “Of course. It’s a pity that a Master Mechanic observed no useful details of these bandits. Nothing which we could use to verify her story.”

“Do you think I took a walk in the desert voluntarily?” Mari demanded. “You know the caravan did not arrive on time. Send someone to the pass and they’ll find a very big crater and a lot of dead bodies.”

“Caravans are often late, and sometimes never appear for reasons which have nothing to do with bandits. I do not have the luxury of sending Mechanics off on long journeys to investigate stories that have no other evidence to support them.” Stimon made a regretful gesture. “Due to the lack of proof, I have to register you as late for contract work without authorization.”

“You—” Mari really had to struggle this time to keep from yelling at Stimon. “I insist on the right to enter a protest and an explanation.”

“That is your right,” Stimon agreed readily.

He knows other Senior Mechanics will pay no attention to what I say. A black mark. He’s giving me a black mark on my first contract, because I almost got killed trying to get to it. Mari gave him an angry glare. “The word of a Master Mechanic would not be questioned in Palandur.”

“This isn’t Palandur. It’s Ringhmon. I run this Guild Hall. And even in Palandur the Guild is run by Senior Mechanics. You had best keep that in mind.” Stimon drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk for a moment, seeming very pleased with himself. “You may now proceed to the Ringhmon Hall of City Government to carry out your contract.”

Mari sat for a moment, trying to calm herself down. “Who’s escorting me to the contract site? Where do I meet them?”

Stimon frowned at her. “Escorting? No one. You’re a Master Mechanic,” he added with a thin smile.

After ten years of the Guild trying to supervise her every move, why was it that now so many Senior Mechanics wanted her wandering around alone? “The Mechanic who normally works on that equipment—”

“Master Mechanic Xian has no interest in acting as your apprentice. He feels he could have fixed the problem himself, given more time.”

Fat chance. It’s about getting the job done, Xian, not your pride. Mari tried again. “I don’t know the city. I assume the Hall of City Government is some ways away. Guild policy—”

“Policy regarding multiple Mechanics on the same job is often waived. Experienced Mechanics know that. Do you need directions to the Hall of City Government?”

Directions. Not an escort. Not transportation. Directions. “No. I’ll find my way there.”

“I should not have to say this, but you are ordered not to allow further contact between yourself and any Mage. I will put that in writing.” Stimon smiled, but it was a smile without any pretense of humor.

Mari bared her teeth back at him, stood up and left.

She barely kept from slamming the door of Stimon’s office, then stood a moment in the hallway trying to control her temper. Fortunately, the female Senior Mechanic had vanished. Mari wasn’t sure how she would have handled additional unpleasant treatment.

This wasn’t anything like what Mari had anticipated when she had left Palandur. She could handle being alone, feeling alone. Getting to the academy at sixteen had meant she was years younger than the other students, a kid out of place among her older colleagues. She had earned respect among those peers there for her abilities, but here in Ringhmon for the first time she felt unable to control her fate at all, no matter how well she did her job. My first independent job and it’s turning into a total disaster. It’s like I’m fighting my own Guild. I can’t ask anyone like Cara or Trux or Pradar to help me when it’s obvious the Guild Hall Supervisor wants to trip me up and will hammer anyone who gets in his way. But if even one person would volunteer to help me, it would make this so much easier to handle.

One person had helped her without thought of the cost, Mari realized. The Mage. A blasted Mage, who was willing to die protecting me. He was willing to cut his own chances to nothing in order to give me that last bit of water. Why couldn’t Alain have been a Mechanic? I could use a friend like that right now.

Stars above, did I actually just wish a Mage could be my friend? Wake up, Mari. Focus on the job. You are going to get to the Hall of City Government and do the best job anyone in the Mechanics Guild has ever seen. And if anyone else tries to get in your way, they’re going to regret it.

She reached into her jacket to check her pistol, then walked through the hallways rapidly, willing to face whatever threats waited outside as soon as possible rather than spend any more time here.