The Dragons of Dorcastle

Chapter Thirteen

Alain could see the sky brightening in the east by the time another Mechanic train arrived from Dorcastle, its locomotive creature chugging gingerly along the metal lines while extra look-outs watched for more of the dangerous gaps. Alain gazed at the strange device, wondering how the Mechanics had created such a creature. Mari had told him that Mechanics did not use spells, but how else could something like that, or a dragon, be brought into being?

The Mechanics from the old caravan, and then the commons, inched their way across the gap where the trestle had been, using a narrow trail against the cliff just wide enough to walk single file. Most did their best not to look down into the depths where the trestle had fallen.

The last of the commons, a man who had hung back until everyone else had gone, balked halfway across, frozen with fear, eyes shut and clinging to the rock wall behind him. Alain could see the Mechanics laughing, and some of the other commons did, too. Most of the commons didn’t laugh, but were arguing among themselves. It did not occur to Alain to do anything, but he did wonder if the common would be abandoned there.

Mari swung down from the locomotive and walked onto the narrow strip, looking stubborn and ignoring comments yelled by some of the Mechanics. She said something to the commons watching as she passed them, and some of those sheepishly fell in behind her. Stepping onto the narrow area, Mari made her way to the common paralyzed with fear and put a hand on his arm, speaking in a low voice.

Everyone watched as she gently tugged the man into motion, getting him step by step across the remaining distance until the commons waiting at the end could grab him and pull him onto the wider area. Mari walked back to the locomotive as the commons called out thanks to her, watching her with different expressions than they turned on other Mechanics.

Only a few Mechanics remained behind with the original train, and Alain saw them begin backing it up as soon as the last commons were clear. He wondered if they would back up all the way to Ringhmon.

After that it was simply a matter of loading everyone aboard the new train. Alain overheard some of the commons grumbling about the freight belonging to them which remained on the stranded Mechanic train, which now would have to either await repair of the trestle or be transported overland by caravan southwest out of Ringhmon to the Silver River, where barges could carry it on to Dorcastle. The additional time involved, Alain gathered, would be substantial, and that would cost the Mechanics Guild a lot of the fees it would otherwise have earned. “At least we know the Mechanics aren’t behind this,” one of the commons muttered in a low voice, afraid of being overheard. “It’s costing them money.”

The other commons laughed harshly in agreement. “It’s costing the Mages money, too,” another suggested. “Maybe they really are innocent.” Then he laughed harder at his joke and everyone joined in, though Alain ducked his head to avoid letting the others see his lack of reaction.

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 choose 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.

Alain started to rise, then sat back down. This elder was not like others he had encountered. Perhaps she would answer queries which would be dismissed by other elders. “This one has questions.”

A flash of pleasure showed on the elder’s face. Alain imagined that she was rarely called on to teach anymore. More likely, she was the one greeting him only because the other elders were off searching for the dragons. “This one listens.”

“Elder, do you have any knowledge of foresight?”

“Foresight?” The old Mage perked up even more. “Why do you ask? Have you that gift as well?”

“Only recently, honored elder. It gave me a vision not so long ago, something I cannot understand.”

“Ah.” The old Mage nodded. “A vision. And you have asked other elders about foresight and they have told you that foreseeing was not a fit art for a Mage, did they not?”

“They did. I was told it would imperil my pursuit of wisdom and I should not speak of what I had seen.”

“Pah! I have pursued my knowledge of foresight, young Mage. Despite the words of others. I am not as strong as I once was, but I still have wisdom and my spells still work.” She gave Alain a questioning look. “Did you see yourself in this vision? No? That is important. When you see yourself, alone or with shadows, that means you are seeing what may be, a chance of what might come to pass if you do everything that leads you to that future. In such a case, you may not even actually survive to fulfill the vision if you should make the wrong choices. But other elders said you should not even speak of what you saw? What did you see in this vision?”

Alain took a moment to call up the memory, focusing on the details. “A second sun in the sky, against which a violent storm raged, trying to extinguish the sun.”

The elder looked at him for a moment before saying anything else. “A second sun? And a violent storm? Did this vision carry any sense of urgency, young Mage?”

He barely managed to hide his surprise at the question. “Yes. The storm moved swiftly. I felt a need to act, though I do not know what I was supposed to do.”

The elder nodded, her expression shadowed. “And this vision was alone? Nothing was near it?” she asked as if certain he would agree.

But Alain shook his head. “A shadow was near it. It appeared over her.”

This time the elder took a longer while to respond. “A shadow. The vision was close to this shadow?”

He hesitated, remembering. “Yes. Just above her. It was focused upon the shadow. I have no doubt of that.”

“Her.” The old Mage chewed her lip, looking down, her feelings impossible to spot. “The vision was focused upon her? A female shadow? You are certain?”

“Yes, Elder.”

The elder took so long to speak again that Alain wondered if she would say anything else, but finally she surprised him with another question. “Young Mage, have you heard of a prophecy the shadows speak of? About one they call the daughter?”

“No,” Alain said.

“The prophecy was made long ago, and somehow the shadows learned of it.” The elder sat back, her eyes distant as if gazing into the past. “They speak of a daughter of the shadow once known as Jules of Julesport. They believe that this daughter will overthrow the Mage Guild and the Mechanics Guild. They believe in that prophecy, but they do not know all of it.”

Another pause, then the elder focused her gaze on Alain. “Others will not tell you this, but the prophecy was real. It said that this woman would unite Mages, Mechanics, and those known as commons into a single force that would change the world. And so the Mage Guild has always considered the prophecy to be a fantasy. How could anyone do such a thing? Mages working with Mechanics? It could never be. Commons joining their efforts? Nonsense. No one could do such a thing.”

Alain nodded as if in agreement, but he was thinking of himself and Mari escaping from the dungeon in Ringhmon, and of the way Mari had gotten commons to aid her in helping another on the cliff. “Do you believe my vision has some connection to that prophecy?” Alain asked, making his strongest effort to hide any feeling from the words.

The elder leaned forward, tapping one finger on the desk to emphasize her words. “Other Mages have seen visions, young Mage. More and more in recent years. Visions of armies battling, and mobs of shadows tearing down all that is and will be, and even visions of Mage Guild Halls and the halls of the Mechanics being overrun and destroyed. And with each year the sense of urgency in these visions has grown, young Mage. The sense that this storm comes closer, that it sweeps toward us more swiftly than any can see, that it will wrap us in its chaos and destroy everything, leaving only ruin in its wake.”

She gazed intently at Alain. “Against this storm many have seen a sun, a promise of a new day, a promise of what may defeat that storm, but always that vision floated without reference to anyone or anything. But you, young Mage, you say you have seen that vision of a sun and a storm focused on a shadow. You have seen the battling images of a new tomorrow and a tomorrow filled with death all centered on one shadow. It must be her, the one the old prophecy spoke of. The one who can bring a new day to this world. And these visions make it clear that if she fails, if this shadow ceases, then the storm racing toward us will triumph.”

Alain wondered how he managed to keep his expression emotionless. “How can a shadow be so important?”

“A reasonable question, given the training that acolytes receive. I will explain,” the Elder said, frustration once more apparent. “Normally foresight tells a Mage what will or might happen to someone. Some specific event. Some specific danger. Yes? They did not tell you that, either, did they? But it is so. You see an image of a Mage or a shadow somewhere, doing something, and so you see what will someday happen to that shadow. Understanding what you see is far more difficult than the seeing, young Mage, for the vision cannot tell you why anything came to pass or what led to it. All you see is an event, with no way of seeing the occurrences or decisions which created it. But in this case you did not see the shadow in the vision, but rather a vision focused on the shadow. What you saw in this vision, then, was not the shadow’s future, but the future that shadow will decide.”

“You are certain?” Alain did not know how to take what the old Mage was telling him. “This shadow is that important?” he asked again.

“Important? Yes. All are shadows, yet shadows can cast their shade widely on the illusion of the world, and Mages do not exist independent of that illusion. This shadow, the one you saw, is the only one who can stop the storm which threatens the entire illusion which we call this world.”

“The Mage Guild—” Alain began, overwhelmed by what he was hearing.

The elder stopped his words with a sharp gesture and an actual frown. “There are two sides to the visions and the prophecy, young Mage. This shadow can stop the storm, but she is also foretold to overthrow the Mage Guild. Many elders do not wish to acknowledge the visions which warn of the coming storm. They mistrust foresight, and they mistrust anything which might lessen their own power.” She looked toward the door, as if ensuring no one was close enough to hear, and lowered her voice. “For that illusion, young Mage—the power many elders wield—is of great value to them. I have heard them talking.–They say that if this one the commons call the daughter should appear, she must be destroyed. For the Guild must be preserved, even if such an attempt only leaves it exposed to the storm that will follow.”

“Destroyed?” Alain said.

The elder gave him a sharp look, causing Alain to wonder if that single word had betrayed his feelings. “They wish to protect what they have, young Mage. They will destroy anything that threatens their authority. You already know this.”

“What should I do?” Alain asked.

“Walk carefully, young Mage. Decide what is important to you.”

“Nothing is real, nothing is important,” Alain recited the lesson automatically.

“That is not so,” the elder whispered. “I sense you have already learned that. Do you wish to try to stop the storm—for nothing is certain and no outcome guaranteed—or do you wish above all to try to preserve the current form of the MageGuild?”

“Elder, if what you say is accurate, then the current form of the Mage Guild is doomed.”

“Exactly, young Mage.” The elder looked into his eyes. “The question is how it will fall. The storm threatens this world, and it threatens that shadow. I do not know what path that shadow must walk to become the sun that will light the new day and hold back the storm. But if I knew who that shadow was, I would do what I could to protect and aid her. The storm the Mage Guild, the Mechanics, shadows of every kind will aim at her. Only she can stop the storm. If her image vanishes from this world, the storm will triumph, perhaps within only a few more years, and then those who destroyed that shadow will themselves be consumed, along with all else. The daughter must live, or all else dies.”

“I understand, honored Elder,” Alain said.

“Do you? Then do not speak of this again. Any mention of that vision could bring the storm’s wrath upon that shadow, who must depend upon remaining hidden and unknown until she has the means to stand against the storm. Tell no one. We have not spoken of this. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Elder.” Alain rose, bowing, emotions churning inside him. “This one has listened, honored elder. Your wisdom has given me much to think about.”

She waved off his words. “We have talked only of small matters,” she said loudly enough for the words to carry into the hallway beyond. “But remember this, young Mage,” the elder added in lower tones. “Do not let others tell you that wisdom decrees a Mage must see the false world in only one way.”

Alain had been about to leave, but he paused. “Honored elder, if all is false, as we are taught, how can wisdom exist as a single path? How can there be but one proper road for all of us?”

The old Mage smiled once more for an instant. “You have gotten there, have you? Well done, young Mage. Many Mages never reach that place, to question the wisdom of that which is wisdom.”

“But, what is the answer, honored elder?”

“The answer? There is no answer. Only choices which can have many outcomes, some expected, and some unforeseen. Perhaps that is the only wisdom there really is, young Mage: that our choices matter. As your choices matter, perhaps more than those of anyone else at this time.”

Alain bowed his way out and walked back toward the room he had been given, aware of little outside himself as the elder’s words kept running through his mind. One who would unite Mages and Mechanics. One who the commons would also follow.

One who could stop the storm.

He felt as if a cold wind were blowing hard upon his mind. What should he do? The elder said he must protect Mari, but how best to protect her when his presence might endanger her? She had also said that Mari’s best protection was anonymity, to be but one more shadow among the others, lest the storm know exactly where to bend its efforts.

He sat in his room as if meditating, but his thoughts were centered not on wisdom but on Mari. She would seek to learn more about the dragons imperiling Dorcastle. Amid all of his uncertainties, Alain felt sure of that. Mari would seek to find the answers, the way to “fix” the dragon problem. And that in turn would very likely lead her into danger.

He did not know exactly what to do, but if Mari would be facing danger then he needed to be close to her. He needed to “help” her, by learning what he could.

His plan for the immediate future decided, Alain went to the dining rooms and ate a quick meal, barely aware of the food and drink, then sought out the other Mages the elder had said were still at the hall. By nightfall he had been able to talk to them about the predations of the dragons and what the Guild had been doing to try to stop the spell creatures. The latest attempt involved trying to use spells to trace the common people the dragons claimed to be holding prisoner. Those people were being forced to write out the dragons’ ransom demands. In theory, some connection to the persons might be discovered using the ransom documents which had mysteriously appeared in the city from time to time. Alain nodded with understanding, thinking of his thread to Mari, though of course he was not so foolish as to mention that. But he was not surprised to hear that the Mages undertaking this effort, having no ties to the shadows they sought to trace, had seen no success.

Later Alain lay in bed in a small room with bare, white walls, staring at the ceiling and trying to think through what he had learned. Worrying about Mari, about what he should do, only led his thoughts in circles, so he tried to concentrate on the problem posed by the dragons. They do not act like dragons, yet the destruction they have wrought seems the work of dragons. They are here, but cannot be found. As the elder said, even this false world is supposed to maintain its illusion in a predictable way.

My training told me that I must obey my elders and deny this world. I have already chosen a different path than I was instructed to seek, but I would not have found it alone. Acolytes are not taught that any other way exists. Is this why some Mages become Dark Mages, because they decide to cease obedience but can see no other road, no purpose for their powers beyond personal gain?

Mari would not lead me down such a path. If I know anything now, it is that. She believes that wisdom lies in helping.

Is that what will enable her to defeat the storm?

If the storm does not destroy her. I must tell Mari about that vision.

I must protect her.

At that thought, he could feel that insubstantial thread leading to Mari strengthen. He despaired inside, wondering how he could protect Mari if his emotions caused him to lose the ability to cast Mage spells.

Oddly, though, he felt no weakness. Instead, a strength filled him. In some way Alain could not understand, that strength did not come through the thread, but owed its existence to the existence of a thread that was not there. And there was no one he could ask about that.

He learned little more the next day. For dragons, the creatures terrorizing Dorcastle had left few signs of themselves aside from the occasional act of destruction. Down at the harbor he heard sailors gloomily discussing the lack of trade. Ships would not sail for fear of being set upon once away from Dorcastle’s defenses, and so the cargo coming down the Silver River by barge from the inner lands of the Bakre Confederation piled up in warehouses and sailors went unpaid.

His mind preoccupied with thoughts of a storm of ghostly armies and mobs, Alain could not help noticing and marveling at Dorcastle’s stout defenses. They brought a sense of reassurance and solidity against the urgent warning of the vision he had experienced in the desert.

Alain stopped at two of the monuments to past battles, finding them as true to history as Ringhmon’s had been false. Dorcastle wore its glory lightly, honoring past triumphs without exalting them and memorializing past sacrifices. There was as well a grimness to Dorcastle’s monuments, a sense that the costs had been necessary but must be remembered in any celebration of victory. It was hard to imagine a greater contrast with Ringhmon.

As the sun sank behind the cliffs to the west of the city, Alain finally made his way to the eating place where Mechanic Mari had said she would be. The thread, sometimes so thin with distance that it had grown weak, was now strong enough to tell him that she was there well before he reached the restaurant.–Just short of the place Alain went into an alley and pulled off his Mage robes, folding them into his bag again. He could not help imagining how the commons in this city would react to seeing a Mechanic and a Mage sitting at the same table in conversation.

A Mechanic and a Mage working together. If the commons saw that…

Low clouds had been closing in as the day ended, and before he reached the restaurant a thin rain had begun to fall, pattering off the gray stone streets and gray stone walls of Dorcastle, pooling in the indentations left by ancient weaponry in the many sieges which Dorcastle had endured.

Mari was not wearing her Mechanics jacket. She must have followed the same plan as he, trying to avoid attention. Alain came to the table where she sat, back in a corner by itself away from any windows, and bowed slightly. “My friend.”

Mari glanced up, her expression sharp and worried, one hand jerking toward her own bag in what Alain recognized as an abortive grab toward her concealed weapon. Then she grinned with relief. “I really am on edge. You’d think I’d recognize an unemotional voice calling me a friend. But I’ve been fending off the occasional romantic male citizen of Dorcastle. I’d never realized how much my jacket keeps commons from even thinking about approaching me.”

“You are not used to being approached by men?” Alain asked as he sat down opposite her.

Her expression turned rueful. “No. I’m not exactly a raving beauty, and I’ve always been more comfortable with machines than I have with males. And I’m a…you know. That sort of narrows the field of men who’d even think about coming on to me.”

“What is a raving beauty?”

“You know, some woman who’s so attractive that men can’t take their eyes off of her. I know Mage women don’t go in for, uh, cosmetics, so maybe you haven’t seen much of that.” Mari blushed slightly with embarrassment, as if concerned she had offended Alain. “I’m not saying Mage women aren’t worth looking at, though I never really have.”

Alain nodded, remembering Asha. “I know such a woman. A raving beauty.”

“Give me a break.”

“I did not mean you.”

Mari’s mouth hung open for a moment, then she blushed a deeper shade. “All right. Let’s pretend I never said that.”

“Why?” Alain asked.

“Because. The point is, the, uh, jacket tends to drive off men like the ones who have come on to me so far tonight.”

“But it must have been more than the jacket,” Alain said. “You are intimidating whether you wear it or not.”

She laughed. “All right, this time I have every right to say give me a break.”

“It is so.”

Mari laughed again. “I’m not intimidating compared to you.”

He shook his head. “My elders do not agree. Those here also see me as too young to be capable.”

“There’s something we still have in common.” Mari twisted her mouth in a half smile, an expression that Alain found fascinating. She had never mentioned her appearance before, but now that she had, he realized how much he wanted to watch her.

“I’m certain the Guild Hall Supervisor in Ringhmon sent a message about me here on the train,” Mari continued, oblivious to Alain’s thoughts, “or by…the arts of my Guild. It didn’t take long after I arrived for many of the other members of my Guild here to start treating me like I had some serious, communicable disease. It really does feel like the Senior Mechanics think other Mechanics will catch something from me. But enough of that. Let’s get some food and then we can talk.”

He stole glances at Mari as she ate, amazed at the play of emotions and feelings as she tasted, as she talked, as she looked out the nearest window at the city. “This food is good,” she commented.

Alain looked down at his own meal. “What is good when speaking of food?”

That earned a look of surprise followed by sadness. “They kept that from you, too? It’s taste, texture, everything. You don’t notice that?”

“We are taught to eat quickly and take no notice of taste,” Alain explained. “It could be a distraction.”

Mari rubbed her forehead, her head lowered so he couldn’t see her expression, then looked back up at him. “It doesn’t matter. If that’s important to you, I mean.”

He examined his own food, trying to pay attention to how it looked. “It cannot be a greater distraction than you are.”

“What?”

“I meant that if you have not already harmed me, then tasting my food should have no impact.”

She eyed him, her expressions shifting too fast to follow. “I am really going to have to think about that before I can figure out whether it was a compliment or a cut down.”

Alain began trying to savor his own food, cautiously paying attention to taste and texture, and found some sense of forbidden pleasure returning to the act of eating. Or maybe he was just seeking to distract himself from thinking about Mari, and about his vision and the words and advice of the elder.

Some time later Mari sat back with a contented sigh, drinking her wine slowly, her gaze on the raindrops pattering on the window and the street beyond. “This city really is a fortress. No wonder it’s got “castle” in its name.”

“You did not know that?”

“No. I’m really not up on history. Why is this place so fortified?”

“Dorcastle is the first good harbor on the south coast of the sea west of the Imperial lands,” Alain explained. “From Ringhmon’s marshes to here are cliffs, and for some ways past Dorcastle are more cliffs and rugged coast. For anyone seeking to strike inland, this is the place from which such a strike must be made. The river valley beyond Dorcastle gives good access to the heart of the Bakre Confederation, and has little in the way of natural defenses. As a result, Dorcastle’s defenses have always been critically important to the Bakre Confederation. They have been tested many times by Imperial legions.”

“Really?” Mari looked at him curiously. “You know a lot of history? I thought Ma__ your kind of person didn’t care about the world.”

“As a rule, they do not. I know some of this from the military knowledge I was given in anticipation of fulfilling contracts with military forces of the commons. But the Mage Guild does have records of what has happened in the world illusion. Most of my Guild members do not bother to study much of the history of that illusion.” Alain shrugged. “But I am a little different.”

“I’ve noticed.” She smiled at him again. Something else in her face caused Alain to look down in confusion at how it made feelings want to boil up inside him, but when he looked at her again Mari was also looking away, seeming worried.

“Is something amiss?” he asked.

“No. Nothing is wrong,” she said firmly. “I can control this. Myself, that is.”

“Control?”

“I’m not going to make the most important decision of my life until I know more about…this problem I have to deal with. Never mind. You were talking about history.”

Mari was eager to change the subject, so Alain did not object. “I have always been interested in history, and even my training could not quench my interest. Since my Guild says the study of the illusion aids in altering it, I was able to pursue this with the agreement of my elders.”

“That’s nice.” She was still looking away from him, focusing on the outside. “So, that’s the story with Dorcastle? People keep attacking it?”

“The Empire keeps attacking it. For centuries, Dorcastle has held against the best that the rulers of the Empire could throw at it.” He pointed out into the street. “There is a monument out there, at the end of the street. It marks the high point of the last Imperial advance. The legions got this far and were broken, hurled back to their ships.”

Mari stared out the nearest window at the rain-wet street. “It’s odd to think this street must’ve once run with blood as it now runs with water.” She shuddered.

He blinked, seeing the shapes of phantom soldiers running past through the street. Behind the soldiers came a few ghostly cavalry who must be a rear guard, one carrying a broken lance, their horses stumbling with weariness. Before any vision of the enemy pursuing them could be seen the images disappeared, leaving only rain pelting down through the night. Had he simply imagined it? Had it been, somehow, a vision of past events which had occurred on that street? Or had it been a touch of foresight again, a vision of a future battle?

A future battle. Armies clashing. “There is something we must discuss,” Alain said.

“I know,” Mari said. “We should get down to business. Are you free to tell me whether your Guild is really innocent in this dragon stuff?”

“It is not about the dragons. It is something that…must not be shared. This must be between only you and I.”

She eyed him, a different kind of alarm showing. “Alain, I don’t need…we don’t need…any private talks about anything about us.”

“But there is something that you must know. It is very important, about the future.”

“Alain,” Mari said, holding out both palms in a warding gesture, “I know what you want to talk about, and I don’t think we should.”

She was fearful. Alain could see that. Not afraid of him, but worried about something else. “You know?” Alain asked.

“Yeah, Alain. I know. I’m trying to deal with what I know. Let’s not talk about it. All right? I know everything that I need to know, and what I don’t know, I’m learning. If…if there is anything that we need to talk about regarding…you and me and the future, I’ll bring it up. Can you agree to that?”

Alain nodded. He had no idea how Mari had learned about her role in the future, but perhaps she had experienced some visions as well. “Yes.”

“Good.” Mari exhaled with relief. “Now, the dragons. What have you learned?”

“There is no doubt in my mind that my Guild is baffled by these events,” Alain said. “Baffled and frustrated, since they should have been able to find and defeat the creatures by now. Finding a way to stop the attacks would be a service to my Guild.”

Mari’s eyes regarded him over the rim of her glass. “Your Guild is really trying to stop whatever’s going on?”

“Yes, though they believe my own skills would not contribute to that effort.”

“Jerks,” Mari muttered, draining the last of her wine.

“One elder was actually pleasant about it,” Alain added. “Pleasant for an elder, that is. She told me many things, including explaining about the thing you wish us not to speak of.”

“Oh, the elder explained that, did she?” Mari laughed, the sound sending a nice sensation through Alain even though he could not understand why she would react that way to his words. “I guess that saved me the trouble of having to do it. All right, then.” Leaning back again, Mari stared over Alain’s head. “I can’t believe I’m doing something which goes against all I was told, but I’m approaching this dragon thing as if it were a scientific problem.” She lowered her eyes to his. “You shamed me into that, you know. I was just going to discount anything about dragons without even thinking about it, but thanks to you I realized that I need to follow the same rules in evaluating information about dragons that I use in evaluating things I already believe in. So, you told me before that these dragons weren’t acting in a way dragons should act. Is that still what you think?”

Alain nodded. “Yes. All of the members of my Guild who I have talked to agreed. This is one of the causes of the frustration.”

“And from what you’ve told me, if dragons were terrorizing Dorcastle then your Guild should have been able to deal with the problem by now.”

“That too is so. It is a contradiction, an inconsistency.”

She spread her hands on the table surface, gazing at it as if an answer was written there. “Then the source of these events doesn’t act like dragons and hasn’t been stopped by people who can stop dragons. That has to mean one thing. Whoever or whatever’s causing this, it isn’t dragons.”

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

“If it doesn’t act like a dragon and can’t be found by people who can find dragons, why should anyone think it is a dragon?”

“Because…” He scratched his head. “That had not even occurred to me.– According to my training, anything we see is false, so any inconsistency means nothing. It is just an inconsistency born of my own perceptions. The patterns that govern the illusion remain unchanged.”

“It hasn’t occurred to any members of my Guild here, either.” Mari made an angry gesture. “Plenty of people in my Guild prefer to disregard inconvenient inconsistencies, too, even though they don’t have the excuse of being trained to ignore facts. Not officially, anyway. They’re fixated on the idea that the Mages are doing this, and so they’re trying to find out how the Mages are doing it and any evidence that ties the Mages to it.”

“But,” Alain said slowly, “as with the Mages searching for dragons, if the Mechanics are looking for things that do not exist, they will not find them no matter how hard they try.”

“Right.” She smiled broadly at him. “Stars above, you’re listening to me.”

“Of course I am listening to you. Your words, your ideas, are always of interest to me.”

“They are?” Mari’s expression changed, her eyes widening, then she looked down hastily, covering her face with one hand. “There have to be some flaws,” he heard her barely whisper.

“Something is wrong again?” Alain asked.

She kept her gaze averted. “Only with my head. I’ve been called crazy by people before this, but now I’m beginning to wonder if all of those people were right. I’m…feeling…thinking…something that no rational Mechanic should feel or think. And the more I think about it, the more I know how impossible it is, but I keep thinking about it. And even though I told you that I don’t want to talk about it, here I am talking about it. Maybe I am crazy.”

“You do not seem stranger to me than any other member of your Guild.”

Alain waited as Mechanic Mari went into another of her muffled laughter episodes. When she recovered enough to talk again, Mari tried to bend a stern look at him. “We have to do something about the way you talk. Get some feeling back into it.”

“Around Mages, I cannot speak differently than I have been trained. That I cannot agree to try. But it would be interesting to see if I could speak in a manner which displayed some emotions when around others, if I could manipulate the illusion in that way. I am willing to attempt that, if that is your wish.”

“If that’s what I wish?” She stared out the window. “I want you to do things, and then you want to do them, but you’re also strong enough that you’re setting limits and obviously not just bending to whatever breeze I blow your way. Are you for real?”

“Nothing is—”

“I know. You don’t have to say it anymore. What were we talking about?”

“What you wish?” Alain ventured. “And something about me that I did not understand.”

“No,” Mari said. “That has to do with the stuff we do not need to discuss. Before that.”

“People believe you are crazy?”

“Before that, too.”

He thought. “Your ideas. Listening to them.”

“Right.” Mari was once more looking at the street outside. “The Mechanics who will listen to me say I need to convince the Senior Mechanics. But the Senior Mechanics all say they’re too busy to talk with me. I’ve managed to corner a few of them long enough to outline my idea, but they’ve listened with these blasted indulgent expressions and then given me a metaphorical pat on the head and essentially told me to go off, play like a good little girl, and leave them alone. Or I get a verbal slap across the face and am essentially told to shut up and leave them alone. I was supposedly sent to Dorcastle in a rush to fulfill some contract, but there's no work for me here. I need to do something, though.”

Alain watched the rain, too, for a little while. “My Guild elders will not listen to me. Yours will not listen to you. Neither of us can tell our elders that we have learned something important from a member of the other Guild. What are we going to do? Is there a way we can act on this idea of yours?”

Her eyes lit up. “We? You’ll help me?”

“Why do you think you have to ask? Friends help. You have said help should always be given, even if someone is not a friend, but we are friends.” He did not mention the other reason why she would need protection, but Alain did not see any need to do so since Mari had said she knew all about it, and the elder had cautioned against speaking of it.

“Yeah. You listened to that, too.” Mari stopped speaking and just gazed at him for a long moment. “I was just remembering the desert waste, when even saying ‘we’ sounded weird. That was you, and yet you’re different now.”

“I am,” Alain agreed. “You are not quite the Mechanic I met then, either.”

“Really? What’s different?”

He paused to think. “Then, your worry was turned toward me and the bandits. Now, your worries face elsewhere.”

Mari bit her lower lip as she looked at him, then finally nodded. “You’re right. But I think if we can solve this dragon thing, maybe things will start getting back to what they’re supposed to be.” Her voice carried more worry than conviction when she said that, though. “Assume that what we’ve seen and heard about isn’t related to dragons at all. Is there any other, uh, what do you call them?”

“Spell creature?”

“Yes. Any other spell creature that could be doing it?”

Alain pondered the question. “Do you mean one which inflicts major destruction, demands ransom, acts on its own, and cannot be found or dealt with by the resources of the Mage Guild within this city?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“No.”

“Can you think of any Mage explanation for what’s going on?”

He thought again. “Dark Mages? No. My Guild suspects them, but as a wise elder reminded me that the spells of Dark Mages can be detected just like those of Guild Mages. Their dragons do not and cannot differ. If any kind of Mage were involved, my Guild would have already solved the problem.”

Mari laughed briefly, the sound carrying no humor. “You’d think that would make them wonder after a while if they were barking up the wrong tree.” Her mouth twisted once more, this time in thought, and Alain thought she had never looked more fascinating. “If we assume it really isn’t dragons, that means we have to figure out what else could be doing this. Or who else.” She shook her head in frustration. “There are too many secrets, and I keep getting the feeling that some of those secrets are really dangerous.”

“There are many dangers,” Alain agreed, certain that she was speaking of the storm visions that threatened. “But, at this moment, I see no specific danger aimed at you.”

“Well, neither do I. At this moment,” Mari replied, looking around.

“No, I mean my foresight.”

“Your— ? Oh, yeah.” She looked very uncertain. “I have a lot of trouble accepting that. Other things you can do, I can see counterparts to in Mechanic work. But seeing the future? That’s real?”

“Nothing is—”

“Don’t say that. I mean, it actually warns of danger?”

“Sometimes,” Alain explained. “It is unreliable. A wise member of my Guild does not depend upon it. My Guild elders discourage any use of it, but it comes and goes by its own rules and not by being summoned as other spells are. Other elders have told me that it can be very important.” He looked at her. “Visions of what may come can be very important. You know this.”

“I…what?” Mari shook her head. “Do you mean like estimates? Forecasts?”

“What is a forecast?”

“For weather, mostly,” Mari said. “To predict when a storm is coming. That’s what you are talking about?”

“Yes,” Alain said, now absolutely certain that Mari knew of the prophecy and her role in it.

“I don’t know enough,” Mari said. Her mouth set in a stubborn and defiant expression. “But with your help, I’ll learn what I need to know.” Mari stood up suddenly, tossing a coin on the table as she did so. “That should cover the meal, as long as you don’t mind me paying.”

“You pay?”

She gave him another look. “I’d heard that Mages— Alain, when you’re with me, we pay for things. All right?”

“All right.”

“Right now I need more data to solve this problem. Come on. We need to look at as many places as we can where these supposed dragons have torn things up.”

Alain got up more slowly. “In the rain? And the dark? Those will not hinder your work?”

Mari gave him a startled look, then glanced out the window again. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe we ought to wait until morning. Are you free?”

“Unfortunately, yes, since my Guild elders believe I am not yet suited for anything but studying.”

Mari gave him a sympathetic look, then unexpectedly reached out and gave his wrist a squeeze. Instead of letting go after that, Mari kept her hand on his wrist, and Alain realized after a moment that both of them were looking at where her hand rested.

She pulled it back slowly, her expression worried. “Alain…no. This isn’t working the way I thought it would. Are you sure you want to do this together?”

He could not tell from her tone of voice or her expression what answer she wanted, so he simply replied with what he felt. “Yes.”

Mari took a long time to answer. “Me, too. All right, then. Tomorrow we’ll set about proving your and my ‘elders’ wrong.”

They paused in the doorway, looking out at the rain. “I don’t suppose,” Mari asked, “that there’s some, uh, spell that keeps someone dry in the rain?”

The question surprised him. But then, how could she know? “No. A Mage has to concentrate on the piece of the world illusion he or she wishes to change.” Alain waved at the rainfall. “That would mean concentrating on each individual raindrop as it falls toward you. It is possible but very difficult.”

“And I thought advanced calculus was hard. So you couldn’t stop a storm?”

It was not surprising that Mari would ask for reassurance on that count. “I said it would be difficult,” Alain said. “Not impossible. It must be possible.”

She gave him an appraising look. “Difficult isn’t the same as impossible. That’s true. Mages are supposed to be able to call up storms like this, though.”

“That is not so. I have never known a Mage to create a storm such as this. And I do not know of any Mage who has tried to stop rain or snow. Why would a Mage do so?” Alain added. “We are not supposed to worry about rain, or cold, or other hardship. It is all illusion.”

“I would have made a lousy Mage. See you tomorrow. Where do you want to meet?”

“I can find you wherever you are.”

“You can?” He could see her thinking. “That thread thing? It’s still there?”

“Yes. And no.”

She was looking down at herself, her face troubled. “Am I doing that?”

“The thread? I do not know. It is and it is not, and it remains.”

“Sort of an imaginary number. No, an irrational number. That’s more appropriate, I guess.” Mari seemed to be talking to herself, not to him. “Is it not affected by distance? I mean, is it always the same no matter how far apart we are?”

Alain shook his head. “When enough distance separates us, it grows weaker. I suspect that if we were far enough apart it would grow so weak I could no longer sense it.”

Mari gazed at him. “But it would still be there?”

“I believe so,” Alain said slowly. “I do not know if too much distance would break the thread. It is possible. Can something that does not exist be able to break? It is an interesting question.”

“More like the sort of question that drives an engineer crazy.” Mari looked troubled, then shook her head and gave him a quick glance, her eyes locking on his for a moment. “Well…good night. Be careful.” The worry in her voice was now not about herself, but clearly directed at him. With a wave she dashed out into the storm, pulling her Mechanics jacket out and donning it as she ran. Alain watched until she disappeared from sight, but the thread remained, invisibly revealing the way to her.