There was a noticeable pause before one of the male elders answered. “This one listens.”
“The caravan I was to protect was attacked by bandits armed with Mechanic weapons. I saw one of these Mechanic weapons closely, though of course I did not touch it. I have been told that Mechanic weapons are elaborate fakes of limited use. Yet the weapons I faced were deadly beyond anything I have heard of.”
“We are aware you reported this,” the woman noted in a dismissive voice. “You are young. The Mechanics are clever enough in their own way. Their tricks are complicated and difficult for one unskilled to see through. Did these weapons slay you? No. Your skills, limited though they are in one so young, were enough to overcome the Mechanic weapons.”
“But the caravan was destroyed.”
“That is no matter to us. You said that only you and this Mechanic survived. You will tell no one of the fate of the caravan, and no one will believe a Mechanic’s tale. Some shadows are gone, but the illusion remains.”
Alain stood silently, trying to accept the words of his elders, knowing that they were right, that the fates of shadows and illusions didn’t matter. But he had been personally responsible for protecting the caravan. He remembered the faces of the caravan master and the guard commander. Nothing but shadows. But they had expected him to protect them.
Shadows. His parents had been shadows. They had died at the hands of raiders perhaps not much different from the bandits of the Waste. He had not been able to save them, either. Alain felt a sudden certainty that he would never be able to disregard the fates of shadows. Perhaps that was the reason he had stayed with the Mechanic. It was a terrible error, a failure of wisdom, a betrayal of what he had been taught. In that, my elders are right. I have failed my Guild. I will never be a great Mage.
“Do you have anything else to report?” one of the elders asked. “Your spells worked properly? There were no changes in your skills?”
He could mislead them about that, too, but Alain decided not to. The odd sense of urgency generated by his last vision prodded him to say more. “I experienced foresight. It is one of my skills now.”
“Foresight,” the oldest muttered. “Of all Mage arts, the most useless and the most dangerous. Paying attention to foresight is a certain way to cripple your Mage skills by making the world illusion seem too real. You should know that. What do they teach acolytes these days?”
“I was so taught, elder,” Alain replied. “I did not seek foresight.”
“Finally, some sign of wisdom in you.”
“Elder,” Alain said in the most emotionless voice that he could manage, “I saw a vision which seemed to warn of great danger.”
“To you?” the elder asked.
“I do not know, elder. I saw a threatening storm, and—”
“Enough,” the elder cut off Alain abruptly. “What you saw was simply the illusion of danger created by your mind after the attack on the caravan. It was an echo. Nothing more. A wise Mage would say nothing more of this.”
Alain did not say anything else, wondering why, despite the elder’s attempt to sound completely uninterested, an undercurrent of tension had been apparent in his voice. And he had cut off Alain’s description of the vision. It was as if Alain’s words, or the vision itself, had actually upset him.
The woman addressed him again, her voice stern in its indifference. “You have much to learn. That is obvious. Even an acolyte should know not to speak of meaningless visions born of the misleading art of foresight. I do not understand how the Guild could have given you full Mage status at your age.”
“The Guild did not give me Mage status,” Alain said. “I earned my status by demonstrating my skills to the satisfaction of the elders of the Mage Guild Hall in Ihris.” To the satisfaction of most of those elders, anyway. They had known him and judged him based on his skills, not his age.
“We must accept the decisions of those elders even if we do not approve of them,” the woman said in a way that made it clear she did not actually accept what the elders of Ihris had done. “Here you are subject to the elders of this Guild Hall. Learn from their experience. The ability to work spells does not mean a Mage has the wisdom to act as one should.”
“This one understands,” Alain replied, a formal acceptance of the elders’ words that should have ended the discussion. He had no interest in hearing more declarations of his inadequacy.
But the elders were not going to let him go yet. “You must practice your basic skills. Focus your mind away from the falsehoods of foresight and unto the wisdom your elders have given you. Your inability to defeat a small gang of bandits shows that you lack confidence in your powers.”
Alain tensed, fighting not to reveal any anger. “This one understands.”
“If this Mechanic attempts to approach you again, you must not speak to her. You must have no more contact with any Mechanic. You will report any such attempts at contact to the elders here.”
“This one understands.”
“Then this may end.” Alain saw one of the shadowy figures raise a hand. The shutters blocking high windows fell open and light entered.
The woman and two men came forward, their impassive faces a bit jarring after the bland hostility of the Inquiry. “How long will you stay in Ringhmon, Mage Alain?” the woman asked.
“I have not decided,” Alain answered. “I must see what employment opportunities exist here.”
“There are few,” the oldest Mage grumbled. “Very few. Ringhmon squanders too much of its treasure on Mechanic toys. Vain fools.”
Alain nodded respectfully. “Then perhaps I shall see the city and learn more of it.”
“Why?” the third Mage asked. “It is all false. Seeing the false brings you nothing.”
“I do not know if my services will ever bring me to Ringhmon again,” Alain said. “I should become familiar with even the false image of the city, enough to be able to serve as my Guild requires. After all, I am young and have much to learn.”
Yet another thing that the Mechanic had done to him. What had she called such speech? Sarcasm? When was the last time he had spoken in such a way, knowing that he was mocking the words he said?
But he hid the mockery very well, or else the elders did not recognize it, because the three Mage elders nodded in approval. “A few days, then,” the woman said as if Alain had already agreed to the time frame. “No one will learn the fate of the last caravan you protected, so any other caravan leaving the city will be glad to have you since you do not command the same price as more experienced Mages.”
Marveling at the elders’ abilities to get in digs aimed at his capabilities and youth, Alain nodded again. “Then, if there is nothing else, I will take leave of the Guild Hall so that I may see what there is to be learned in the city of Ringhmon.”
The woman shook her head. “Go if you will, but keep your nose close. Do not stick it in places where it might get cut off, young Mage.”
The oldest almost grimaced. “Dark Mages. An ugly thing, but you know of them. They are here in some numbers, drawn by offers of employment from the city. Oh, the city denies it, but we know they hire Dark Mages. You do not want to encounter one of them, young Mage.”
Wishing they would stop commenting on his youth, Alain began backing toward the door. “I shall remain alert and wary.”
Once outside the chamber where the Inquiry had been held, safely alone in an otherwise empty hallway, Alain stopped for a moment to think and recover his full composure. A small gang of bandits. They give me no credit at all. They did not accept my words. What would they have said had I died there? It would have been my fault, my own failure due to youth and lack of experience, and none would have ever blamed Mechanic weapons, which are deadlier than any crossbow.