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

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

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

Perhaps that is what they intend.

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

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

* * *

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

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

Apparently they had been told not to speak with her.

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

“As soon as I’m done eating—”

“Immediately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A common? Who?”

“He wasn’t a common.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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