Mechanic Abad dashed up beside her, urging Mari to her feet. “Whoever it was can’t get a good shot with the commons getting in the way,” he said as he grabbed her arm. “Run!”
They ran toward the Mechanics Guild Hall, Mari next to the buildings they passed and Abad keeping himself between her and the street as a living shield. No more shots sounded behind them, but Mari could hear the sound of city watch members calling out alarms as they converged on the site of the attack.
“Could that have been another Mage?” Abad asked as they finally slowed to a brisk pace.
“No. Mages don’t use Mechanic equipment,” Mari said, trying to calm her still-racing heart. “They can’t use it. Not even a Mechanic weapon.”
“They can’t?” Abad watched her. “Neither of those shots was aimed at me. If you’d frozen in place instead of diving right away the second one would have blown your brains out.”
“I…react fast,” Mari explained, unable to stop a shudder. “In emergencies.”
“That’s a good talent to have. Were you hurt? Your neck is bleeding.”
“It’s not serious. I’ll see the healer at the Guild Hall,” Mari said, hoping that she hadn’t betrayed knowing too much about Mages.
“The Senior Mechanics say you’re not really in danger. They told me that. They’re wrong.”
Frustration and lingering fear made her answer honestly. “Do you think they’ll believe you now when they’ve refused to believe me?”
“Why won’t they believe you?”
“I don’t know.” And she truly didn’t. She had some ideas, some ideas very dangerous to the see-nothing-wrong philosophy that ruled the Guild. But why the Senior Mechanics—why the Mechanics Guild they ran, which controlled all technology—would ignore such things made no sense to Mari. “I’ve been doing everything the Senior Mechanics ask. I’ve been doing my job. And they treat me like someone they can’t trust.”
Abad finally asked the question she knew he had been holding inside since first meeting her. “Are you loyal to the Guild?”
“I have been. I swear that I have been.” Was she still loyal, though? I don’t know. What a scary thought. I’ve been taught to depend on the Guild, to be part of the Guild, since I was a little girl. Now…what can I depend on?
An answer came: the face of a man slightly younger than she, toughened by hardship, strangely emotionless except for eyes that lit when they rested on Mari. Alain. But you’re far away. And I don’t know when we will meet again.
Barely an hour later, the Guild Hall still buzzing with the news that someone had fired shots at a Mechanic on the streets of the city, Mari found herself standing before the desk of the Guild Hall Supervisor. Senior Mechanic Vilma offered a small, meaningless smile as she greeted Mari. Most of the Mechanics in Edinton detested Vilma because her insistence on perfection never yielded to reality in any form. “Mechanic Mari, how fortunate that your accident did not result in injury.”
“Master Mechanic Mari,” she corrected. Ever since Mari had earned the status of Master Mechanic at such a young age, Senior Mechanics had shown a habit of forgetting to use her proper title. Mari raised one hand to the bandage on her neck. “There was some injury, and it wasn’t an accident.”
Vilma’s insincere smile came and went again. “An official investigation will determine what actually occurred,” she said.
“I’ve already reported what happened at the job site and what happened afterwards. Mechanic Abad can confirm—”
“You won’t be working with Mechanic Abad anymore,” Vilma interrupted.
That brought Mari up short. “Why not?”
“Because I and the other Senior Mechanics here underestimated how quickly you could negatively influence even a Mechanic of Abad’s reliability.”
“What?” Mari felt her face warming with anger. “Since arriving in Edinton I have done nothing—”
“I’m not interested in debating the issue with you,” Vilma broke in again. “Not when there’s an important assignment that only you can carry out properly.” She gave Mari a packet of papers.
Mari stared at Vilma, then down at the papers. “A mission? Who else—?”
“Just you. You’re a Master Mechanic. There’s a CAD that needs to be recovered, and you are by far the most qualified to undertake the task of evaluating its current status and, if appropriate, its transportation back here to Edinton.”
Back here to Edinton? Leaving town might not be a bad idea at all if people were actively trying to harm her. Maybe, despite Vilma’s hostile attitude, the Senior Mechanics were taking the threat to her seriously at last, even if they wouldn’t admit it. Mari read quickly through her orders, dawning hope vanishing as a single word jumped out at her. “Minut?” The word made no sense. She knew what it meant, what it was, but how could it be there in her orders?
“Yes. Minut.” Senior Mechanic Vilma made it sound like no big deal. “When the Guild pulled out of Tiae, the CAD was left at Minut. You are to go there, see if it is worth recovery, and then bring it back.”
“Minut?” Mari repeated, disbelieving. “There’s no government there. No police, no authority, nothing. It’s anarchy. All of Tiae beyond the border with the Confederation is total anarchy.”
“You’ll have a strong escort,” Vilma promised. “You’ll meet them at that town.”
Mari checked the orders again. “Yinville? That’s also in Tiae.”
“Not very far inside Tiae. The escort should be there when you arrive.”
Mari looked at the Senior Mechanic, trying to understand these orders. “This is suicide.”
“Nonsense. Capable Mechanics have done similar tasks in the past for their Guild,” Vilma said, her tones hardening. “Are you refusing the orders? These are of the highest priority and steps are being taken to ensure you can carry them out safely and successfully. If you refuse the orders despite that, I will have to order a competency hearing and a loyalty evaluation.”
“You’re serious? A single Mechanic inside Tiae?”
“There is a strong escort awaiting you at Yinville,” Senior Mechanic Vilma repeated. “This is a necessary task which poses no unreasonable risk. You are to leave today, as soon as possible.”
“Alone?” She could take care of herself. Mari had prided herself on that. But young, female, and alone in such a place?
“Are you incapable of traveling by yourself? Even apprentices don’t need someone holding their hands on the road!”
Mari looked down at her orders again, not really seeing the words, trying to think. Ever since Dorcastle, I’ve done everything they wanted. I’ve kept quiet. I’ve obeyed orders. I wanted to make sure that Alain wasn’t endangered, and I wanted to establish my loyalty and my skills beyond any doubt before I asked any more questions about things that aren’t supposed to exist. And still they’re sending me to Tiae.
A strong escort awaiting me at Yinville. Once, six months ago, I would have believed that. Words in the orders swam into focus. “If the escort is not at Yinville when you arrive, they will be very close and you are to wait the short time until they join you.” Perfectly reasonable orders, if that hadn’t meant waiting alone in an area overrun with petty warlords, bandit gangs and desperate men and women of all kinds.
Why send me to Tiae? Why send anyone to Tiae? To get rid of them. Death is one of the nicer things that could happen to me there. I am to be condemned for what I might know, for what I might do. Mari knew what was really happening. So did Vilma. But for the first time since arriving at Edinton, Mari refused to just play the game, refused to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. “Senior Mechanic Vilma, can I ask why? Why is this being done?” she said bluntly.
Vilma gave her a bland look in return that provided no clue that anything other than a routine meeting was taking place. “For the good of the Guild. That is why we do everything. Now, for obvious reasons, for your own safety, we want this kept low profile. You are to mention your mission and where i
Low profile. If Mari didn’t return, she would eventually be declared lost, far too late for anyone else to do anything about it or object to her assignment. Mari would be a Mechanic who had died trying to carry out her orders, a good example for all other Mechanics. An arrest, on the other hand, couldn’t be kept low profile now. Too many people knew Mari, too many rumors were going around about Ringhmon and Dorcastle. An arrest might feed dissent, might cause others to ask questions.
But she didn’t doubt what the outcome would be if she refused these orders. The competency hearing to strip Mari of her Master Mechanic rank and a loyalty evaluation to decide whether she should be sent to a cell at Longfalls, the results of both predetermined before either “assessment” even began.
It left her only one option.
Mari gazed at Senior Mechanic Vilma. “I’ll be gone before nightfall.”
Less than two hours later, Mari strode toward the main entry of the Guild Hall, a pack on her back holding her tools and her small collection of personal possessions, as well as a far-talker that had been signed out to her for the trip. The far-talker, as big as her lower arm, was heavy and had only a short range, a symbol of the deterioration of Mechanic technology over the decades and centuries. Still, it provided a capability that no means of communication available to commons could match.
Despite Vilma’s instructions to tell no one that she was leaving, Mari knew that word had spread that she had been seen packing, that she had picked up some journey food from the Guild Hall kitchen, and now she was heading for the exit bearing a large travel pack on her back. Her “low profile” departure was probably already known to everyone in the Guild Hall.
Mechanics and apprentices watched her go, some of them openly upset, others pretending not to see her. Three of the Mechanics hastened to intercept her. “Mari, what the blazes—” one of them began.
“I can’t talk about it,” Mari broke in.
“Are you going to be all right?” another asked.
“I don’t know.”
The three Mechanics exchanged looks. “Listen, Mari,” Mechanic Ayame insisted. Middle-aged, shrewd, and frustrated by Senior Mechanic rules, she should have been the leader of discontent here. But burdened by long years of bitter experience with the cost of dissent, Ayame had been sullenly submissive to the Senior Mechanics when Mari had arrived at Edinton. Since then, Ayame had increasingly sought out Mari and grown more bold. Was that the sort of thing Senior Mechanic Vilma had meant when she complained about Mari’s “negative influence” on others? “We’re willing to take a stand on this,” Ayame declared. “Just say the word.” The two other Mechanics nodded in agreement.
Mari stopped walking, speaking low and fast, aware that Senior Mechanics were watching. “No. It wouldn’t do me any good and you’d all end up in serious trouble. This isn’t the end of this. I’m going to get some answers. I don’t want anyone else getting burned until I have those answers and decide what to do. Please let it go, look after yourselves, and I’ll deal with this.”
The three exchanged looks, then Ayame nodded. “All right, Mari. Most people here are either unwilling to buck the Senior Mechanics or else afraid to go against Guild policy. But not everyone. Not any more. We’ll wait to hear from you. When you need us, call us. Got it?” Without waiting for an answer from her, the three stepped away to let Mari continue on her way.
One more confrontation awaited her, though. Mechanic Abad waited by the main entry, his expression stubborn. “They said I shouldn’t talk to you, but I wanted you to know. I never told them you’d done anything wrong, Master Mechanic. I told them you did good work, I told them you never said anything against the Guild, and I told them the truth about what happened when you got shot at. I don’t understand why you’re being sent off like this.”
“Me, neither. Thanks for being a good Mechanic and a good working partner,” Mari said, not having to feign sincerity.
“They kept asking me what you promised me, or what you told me, like the Senior Mechanics thought you’d messed with my head or something. I’m sorry, Master Mechanic. I must have done something wrong.”
“No, you didn’t,” Mari said. “You did your job and you did it right. But as I’ve been finding out, you don’t have to do anything wrong to get in trouble, or to get sent to Minut.”
“They’re sending you…to Minut? Minut?”
“Yeah. That’s what my orders say.” Let the Senior Mechanics answer the questions that would generate after Mari had gone. “Goodbye, Mechanic.”
Mari left the Guild Hall, crossed the wide plaza surrounding it, then walked steadily toward a nearby stable, wondering if Dark Mechanics seeking revenge for what she had done at Dorcastle would take another shot at her. Little wonder the Senior Mechanics still showed no concern on those grounds. A Dark Mechanic bullet would solve the Guild’s problem with Mari and leave the hands of the Senior Mechanics clean. She noticed a Mage following her at a distance, but making no attempt to get closer. Perhaps her sudden reappearance on the streets so soon after the two failed plots to get her had thrown off her stalkers.
Mari’s orders called for her to rent a horse and take it south across the border, as no regular transport still operated between the Confederation and what used to be Tiae. “Have you heard of any strong force going south recently?” she asked the owner of the stable.
“South?” he questioned. “To the border, Lady Mechanic?”
“South of there. Into Tiae.”
Clearly startled, the common shook his head. “No one goes across the border, Lady.”
Mari looked at the stable owner, remembering the commons she had met in Dorcastle and how differently they had acted when she had hidden her identity as a Mechanic, how much more they had told her. “It’s very important that I know,” Mari said, speaking in the same tones she would have used with another Mechanic. “Can you tell me anything?”
The owner looked back at Mari, uncertain, then relaxed a bit and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lady, but no. A single rider might be missed, but…you say a strong force? Many riders? Everyone would be talking about that. My cousin is in the border troops, with the cavalry. I saw him just yesterday when he brought a few of their mounts in for new shoes from our blacksmith. He would have said something.”
Mari nodded, trying her best to look calm as her worst suspicions were confirmed. “What about a lot of riders, or foot soldiers, getting ready to head south? Have you heard anything about that? It might have been kept secret.”
“Hah! Secret they can say, but it would be well known, Lady.” The stable owner spoke more freely as Mari listened attentively to his words. “There’s been nothing like that.”
“Ships? Do any of those go south?”
The stable owner pursed his lips in thought. “Not many. Not anymore. I remember when Tiae was whole, and commerce with them made a lot of people wealthy. Now only a very few ships poke around the southern coasts in search of some quick trade while they try to avoid pirates. There would be a great deal of gossip about any ship or ships heading south with a lot of soldiers. Everyone would have heard. No, Lady, no one in their right mind goes into Tiae, not unless they have an army with them.”
Mari nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
“Lady?” The stable owner stared at her, startled by the small and simple courtesy from a Mechanic. He hesitated as a restive mount was led out toward them by a stable-hand who was trying to hide a smile. “Hold on, there, Gazi. This Lady might prefer a steadier horse.”
Gazi the stablehand looked puzzled. “But we always give Mechanics—”
“Not this one. If you can wait but a little longer, Lady, I can get you a steadier mount.”
A short time later Mari settled into the saddle, grateful that the stable owner had provided a more sedate mount for her. Some people were natural riders. Mari wasn’t one of those people. She loved horses, but she had never been that good at riding them.
She headed out through the city streets toward the southern parts of Edinton, but as the crowds thickened Mari dismounted to lead her horse and make herself harder to spot amid the multitude, weaving on a crooked path that bore more west than south, bending gradually north. If there were Mages watching, then even invisible Mages would have trouble getting through the crowded streets Mari chose. Dark Mechanics should be equally hindered, as well as anyone sent by the Senior Mechanics of her own Guild to ensure that Mari went toward Minut. Glancing back quickly at irregular intervals, she didn’t spot anyone nearby trying to keep up with her.
Finally reaching the city wall, Mari paused at the entrance to an alley to remove her Mechanics jacket and stuff it into her pack, replacing it with a coat like those the commons wore. Then she remounted and rode out the nearest gate, heading northwest.
In the last several months, since her adventures in Dorcastle, she had learned a lot of things about surviving that weren’t taught at the Mechanics Guild Academy in Palandur. Mari had thought for a while that the way to survival followed a path of doing exactly as she was told, but that route hadn’t satisfied the Senior Mechanics, who seemed to view her every move as an act of possible rebellion. Now, continuing on that path of obedience would lead her to Tiae and near-certain death. I no longer have any choice. I’m not taking the Guild’s way any more, not until I find out what the blazes is going on. No. This is my way, and it doesn’t lead to Tiae.
She didn’t spot anyone obviously trailing her along the road, though the number of other travelers still provided plenty of cover for someone like that. Stopping before sunset at a tavern alongside the road, Mari led her horse to the watering troughs set out to attract travelers. As her horse drank, Mari listened to the commons talking around her. Anonymous without her Mechanics jacket, she heard the commons saying things they never would have spoken around a Mechanic.
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