The Servants of the Storm

by Jack Campbell

  “A second answer.” Mari breathed deeply as she considered his words. “But if that is what they are on the trail of, why seek copies of what I have? What could they learn from the copies we got out of Marandur that the librarians in Altis didn’t notice?” She stopped speaking, growing dismay on every feature. “Libraries. The copies. Alain, the texts we got from Marandur have markings and letter/number combinations on them. We don’t know what they mean. They could be identifiers, like those used on library books to tell which library owns them and what shelf they belong on. What if those markings on the texts from Marandur are different from those on the texts in the Guild vaults? Or maybe the letter/number combinations could identify whether our copies came from the original headquarters in Marandur. That’s why the Senior Mechanics would want to see my copies of the tech manuals! Alain, if they discover the markings are different, that would point my former Guild straight at the source of the texts.”

  “I remembered your regret at having to leave so much behind in Marandur.”

  “Regret? It was heartbreaking! We could carry only a small part of what was there! We had to leave so much behind. This is awful! If the Senior Mechanics or the Imperials figure out the truth—that those texts in Marandur were not destroyed during the siege—stars above…it could all be lost.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Thank you so much for keeping an eye on the big picture while I was drowning in details.”

  “We thought out the problem together. We are a team,” Alain said.

  She smiled at him despite the worry evident in her eyes. “The best team ever. Those texts are incredibly valuable, but not half as valuable as you are to me. As soon as we all get back to Pacta Servanda we’ll hold a meeting and try to figure out what to do. That item just went to the top of the list.”

  * * * *

  Unfortunately for their plans, days later when they finally arrived at the outskirts of Pacta Servanda they were met by Mage Alera and her Roc in a field off the road. Alain dismounted from his horse, which had become skittish in the presence of the giant bird, and walked to speak with Alera as Mari ordered the column to halt. The Roc sat quietly, as if half-dozing, radiating what felt to Alain like a sense of contentment, while Mage Alera sat on the ground next to its colossal head. “You have returned to this place,” Alain observed.

  “The general of Elder Mari asked that we look ahead of his march for what he called trouble,” Alera replied. “We saw none.”

  “How far off is General Flyn?” Mari asked as she walked up.

  “Elder, he said he would be at this place in two days, perhaps three.”

  “Three days?” Mari looked at Alain. “Do we need General Flyn at the meeting?”

  Was the general needed for a meeting to discuss what to do about the texts remaining in Marandur? Alain paused, recalling the first battle he had been in with Flyn. “I have great…respect. Is that the right word? Respect for the opinions of General Flyn. So do many others, including many of the commons. What he has to say may be of great importance.”

  He could tell she wanted to hold the meeting anyway, but finally yielded to necessity. “You’re right. General Flyn has to be here when we decide things.”

  Mari paused, looking west toward the Umbari Ocean. “We should wait for Captain Banda’s input, too. He’s sailing the Pride back from Minut, but depending on the winds he might not get here until after the general does.” She sighed. “Another item on the list. We need to get the Pride retrofitted with a steam propulsion system to aid the ship’s sails. Don’t look like that, Alain.”

  He let surprise show. “I was revealing some feeling?”

  “Yes. Every time I mention steam or boilers you get this worried look in your eyes.”

  “I saw no emotion in Mage Alain,” Mage Alera said.

  “It is the rings we wear,” Alain told Alera. “They allow Mari to see into my mind.”

  “She’s going to think you’re serious!” Mari said. “How are you and Swift, Mage Alera?”

  Alain could see Alera’s pleasure in being asked about her Roc, though it probably would have been impossible to spot for anyone not trained as a Mage. “We are well, Elder.”

  Mari paused again. “You’re not going anywhere soon, are you? I think you should be at a meeting we have to hold. No, make that two meetings. I will need your knowledge and opinions.”

  This time, Alain thought that even a common could have seen the surprised pleasure on Alera’s face. The elders of the Mage Guild looked down on Mages who created Rocs, disdaining their emotional ties to their birds. Alera was still unused to being respected. “I will be here, Elder.” Alera struggled to say more. “Tha̶ Than—"

  “Lady Mari understands,” Alain told her.

  “I must learn to say it.”

  “You did say it,” Mari replied. “You’re welcome.”

  Alain and Mari walked back to the road, where the horses were pricking up their ears as they sensed the herds and stables not far distant and the soldiers were straightening their uniforms and grinning as they thought of both the people and the taverns awaiting them. “I never should have taught you how to tell jokes,” Mari commented. “Alain, in case you’re not reading my mind, I am still considering immediately getting together the people we do have here and seeing what they think we should do about those copies left in Marandur. Any delay feels too long.”

  Alain had remembered something else. “Mechanic Dav is with General Flyn.”

  “Dav?” She nodded reluctantly. “You’re right. No matter what, Dav deserves to be with us when we tell others the truth. We’ll wait.”

  Reaching his mount, Alain swung back into the saddle. He had grown to enjoy riding, and had been trained to endure and ignore all physical hardship, but after so many days on a horse even he welcomed the fact that their journey was almost over.

  Mari pulled herself back onto her own horse, the mare shying to one side so that Mari came down hard on the saddle in a way that made her wince. “I like horses. Why do all horses hate me?” Mari grumbled as she ordered the column back into motion.

  “I overheard some of the soldiers saying they thought that mare liked you,” Alain offered.

  “She’s got a strange way of showing it.” But Mari’s expression brightened as she looked ahead. “Pacta has really grown, hasn’t it?”

  Six months before, Pacta Servanda had been a town under siege, its walls barely holding, its dwindling number of defenders worn to the last extreme, and the refugees inside the town despairing of what the next days would bring.

  Now, Mari and Alain rode down the recently widened and paved main highway leading from the neglected Royal Road which ran east of Pacta Servanda and linked Minut to the north with Tiaesun to the south. The growing number of inhabitants, as well as new industry, had spilled outside the walls, onto equally new streets marked out in neat grids to control and channel the growth. Tent encampments, new buildings and Mechanic workshops, and a string of outer fortifications flying the banners of the new day alongside that of Tiae sprawled over more than twice the area of the old town, even covering the place where warlord Raul’s besieging army had camped before being wiped out half a year ago. The town’s waterfront, then nearly barren and abandoned, was home once more to the nets and boats of local fishers as well as warehouses and merchant offices. The small harbor was crowded with ships bringing in raw materials, workers, volunteers for Mari’s army, food, and trade goods to meet the demands of the rapidly growing metropolis.

  Alain looked over at Mari. “You have wondered if our efforts are making a difference. You can see how much change they have caused here.”

  “Yeah,” Mari said with a small laugh. “I guess I hadn’t noticed all of the changes while they were happening. But after having been away, this is amazing to see.”

  “In six months,” Alain assured her, “Minut will be the same.”

  “Did you see that?” Mari asked, turning serious. “Did your foresight show you that?”

&nbs
p; “No. What has happened here shows me that.”

  People were running toward the sides of the road, gathering to cheer the army’s return. She saw mostly common folk, but with plenty of the dark jackets of Mari’s Mechanics among them, as well as here and there a Mage’s robe. All mingled together in a shared cause. A daughter of your blood will someday overthrow the Mage Guild and the Guild of the Mechanics, the ancient hero Jules had been told by a Mage who looked upon her and saw that future through his foresight. She will unite Mages, Mechanics, and the common people to save this world and free the common people from their service to the Guilds.

  Alain saw Mari look down with embarrassment as the cheers grew, then nerve herself and raise her gaze to smile back at the onlookers. As the chants of “Lady Mari!” grew louder, Mari raised her free hand, clenched into a fist, and began yelling “Tiae!” and “the New Day!”

  The crowd picked up that chant, too, as Mari pumped her fist skyward.

  Alain had been trained to see the world as an illusion, something which could be changed temporarily by the right use of power, skill, and training. But that ability dealt only with the world itself, not with the people in it. The Mage elders taught that those people were shadows: another illusion, but one that Mages could not directly change because even Mages could not completely accept that what appeared to be other people were in fact nothing.

  But at times such as this Alain saw Mari changing the people around her by using a different kind of power, one that grew out of their belief in her and out of her own instinctive actions. Mari herself discounted that, insisting that she only tried to do what was right. Alain looked at the people, felt the power of their belief and their enthusiasm, and knew that whatever power she wielded, it was as real as Alain’s own Mage skills.

  He looked back, catching glimpses of Mari’s family where they walked surrounded by their escort. Kath was almost glowing with pride in her sister, Mari’s mother was trying hard not to look the same, and her father…her father looked confused. Which, from what Mari had told him, was a good thing. Perhaps her father was questioning the certainties he had held firm to.

  They reached the gates of Pacta Servanda, where the smiling town leaders and Princess Sien’s representatives were waiting along with Mari’s senior representatives.

  Professor S’san, Mari’s old instructor, clapped lightly, then gave her a dry look and called out over the chants. “Welcome back, Master Mechanic Mari. There is a lot of work to do once you’ve finished your little victory procession “

  “Save me, Alain!” Mari cried in mock horror. “I’ll take the column through to the city plaza and then wrap it up, Professor.”

  “Make sure she doesn’t try to run away, Mage Alain,” S’san said.

  Alain nodded to her, feeling a natural smile appear on his lips. To be accepted by someone like S’san was something he had never expected.

  For this moment, life was good.

  * * * *

  Mari walked into the conference room with a sour expression, massaging her hand as she sat down at the table. “Who would they get to sign all that stuff if I hadn’t come back from Minut?” she grumbled.

  “Life is hard,” Mechanic Calu agreed with exaggerated sympathy.

  Alain, judging that Mari was too tired to appreciate further attempts at humor, gestured to the others who had already seated themselves. “Those you have asked for are present,” he said. “Mechanics Bev and Calu, and Mages Dav, Asha, Hiro, and Alera.”

  “Thank you,” Mari said. She paused a moment, looking around the table. “I’ll try to keep this short since it’s already getting late. Mage Alain and I discussed this in Minut. There’s a much more critical short-term matter we need to meet on when General Flyn and the others get back to Pacta, but while we’re waiting I wanted to talk about a long-term issue. Mage training.”

  Mechanic Bev made a face. “I can wait outside.”

  “No. I want you here, Bev. You’re our conscience on this stuff. You all know the problem,” Mari said. “The training for Mage acolytes is brutal. This is done to children as they grow and become young adults. I would like your thoughts on whether we can figure out a different way to train Mages, or if we should plan for a gradual loss of Mage skills rather than continue to mistreat acolytes in a fashion we find impossible to justify.”

  “You can’t do that,” Bev interjected. “That second thing. You can’t just stop training Mages.”

  Mari stared at Bev. “You are the very last person I would have expected to say that.”

  “You have to understand what I’m saying,” Bev insisted. “Suppose everyone who thinks like we do stops training Mages in the bad, old way. What about all of the Mages and their elders who still follow that old way of thinking?”

  “The old wisdom,” Mage Hiro said. “Yes, they would continue training acolytes in the old way.”

  “Which would mean that after a while there wouldn’t be any Mages like Alain or you others left, but there would still be Mages who acted like the Mages everyone hates,” Bev said. “You haven’t made a better world. You’ve unilaterally surrendered that world to the people you disagree with.”

  “Why did we Mages not think of this?” Asha asked.

  Alain shook his head, as surprised as Asha that it not occurred to him. “Perhaps because we have been taught not to consider such things. Deny the world and deny all others. We do not consider how our actions might change that world. Or not change it.”

  Mage Hiro inclined his head in agreement. “That is the flawed wisdom we were taught. Perhaps the elders did not want us to think through such things.” He paused in thought. “I was only recently an elder, but I remember those older than I discussing the need to avoid causing acolytes and Mages even to think about change. Their reasoning was that if change was not thought of, it could not occur.”

  “Let me get this straight, Bev,” Mari said. “You’re right, but are you actually arguing that if we can’t find any alternatives that work for training Mages, we should still use the old, abusive ways?”

  “No!” Bev breathed slowly, calming herself. “No,” she repeated. “What I am arguing is that we can’t accept failure. We have to find another means of training Mages, a means that doesn’t involve such brutal treatment of kids.”

  “What if there is no other means?” Alain asked.

  “Alain,” Bev said, “you have told us that to Mages this world is an illusion! Something we make up with our minds. Why isn’t there room in that illusion for more than one way to train a Mage?”

  “No one has ever trained a Mage in any other way,” Asha pointed out.

  “Has anyone tried?” Calu asked. “Has anyone been allowed to try? We have experience with that in the Mechanics Guild. We’d suggest some different way of doing something, and the Senior Mechanics would say no, it won’t work. They wouldn’t test it or allow us to try it. They’d just pronounce that it wouldn’t work, and then they’d ban it. Have the elders of the Mage Guild worked the same way?”

  Mage Hiro revealed a tiny measure of approval as he looked at Calu and Bev. “They have. This Mage left the Guild because he decided that the Mage Guild elders erred by dictating only a narrow path to wisdom. Now these Mechanics, their minds not set on the same rigid paths, have grasped what those elders do not. If we view the illusion in only one way, if we allow ourselves to see only one path, then we ourselves create the illusion that the only alternative is failure.”

  “Yes!” Calu said, pointing at Hiro. “It’s like, um, a frame of reference. If we create that frame in a certain way, it’s going to affect how we see everything.”

  “Are there other means of seeing Mage training?” Mage Dav asked.

  Hiro nodded. “Every heresy suppressed by the Mage Guild elders is a possible alternative. I studied many of these heresies, using the excuse that I wished to be able to quickly identify anyone trying to revive them. My actual reason was to search for answers the elders’ wisdom did not provide. Thus this one
remembers many of the ideas in the heresies. We must speak of them. We must look at the heresies not as something known to be error, but as something that might show the way to a different wisdom.”

  “I feel a different wisdom when aloft,” Mage Alera said. “I feel…closer to something. Something…vast. It is hard to say in words.”

  “The elders have never listened to those Mages who create Rocs,” Mage Dav observed. “Perhaps there is a road to wisdom there.”

  “Perhaps there are many roads,” Alera said.

  Alain could see that Alera instantly regretted her impulsive words, though no one not a Mage could have detected it.

  But Mage Hiro simply nodded in agreement. “We shall look down every road. As the Mechanic Bev said, we cannot surrender the world illusion to those whose wisdom is flawed.”

  * * * *

  Two days later, Alain and Mari sat in another room in the old section of Pacta Servanda, part of the original town. Alain had been told that in the past traders had used this room to make agreements with each other. Solid walls and a heavy wooden door ensured no one could overhear what was said inside.

  The emotions of those arriving for Mari’s meeting were, as usual, easy for a Mage to see: mostly curiosity, but worry, too. Only Mage Dav, Mage Asha, and Mage Alera offered a serious challenge. Though greatly muted, their thoughts appeared similar to those of the Mechanics and commons present.

  Mari’s feelings were mixed. She revealed anxiety, anticipation, but also annoyance. “Changing the world requires too many blasted meetings,” she grumbled. “I never realized how many meetings Jules must have had to sit through.”

  “You’re the one who called this meeting,” Mechanic Alli pointed out. “Maybe you’re starting to like them.”

  “That’s really not funny, Alli. Some days I think I’d rather take a bullet than sit through another meeting.”

  “Do not joke about such things,” Alain murmured, knowing his voice must carry far more emotion than usual. Was it only his fears that caused the foresight vision of a badly injured Mari to reappear for an instant?