Shaking his head, he turned away to see several citizens of Ringhmon standing close and watching him with wary eyes. They appeared abnormally bold in their attitudes, so Alain gave them the dead, emotionless look of a Mage and they scattered hastily. He had been told that commons believed Mages could use spells on them, changing their shape and nature, turning them into animals or insects, or overturning their reason. Alain knew this was false, that no Mage could harm or change a shadow directly, yet the Mage Guild had encouraged such superstitions, seeing them as a good way of keeping the commons properly subdued and fearful. He probably should have simply ignored the commons, though. If the elders at the Guild Hall could see him playing such tricks on shadows they would call him young indeed.
Alain squinted upward, seeing that the morning had advanced. The day was already once again hot and unpleasant, and the cool, dark rooms of the Guild Hall were beginning to seem a lot more attractive.The Hall would have a records section, a place holding the words of others in which he could find relief from the emptiness of the world.
Alain started back the way he had come, crossing a large street. A trolley had just passed, moving slowly away under the pull of a large draft horse which seemed either old or simply as dispirited as the people of this city. Alain felt a sensation as if he were being watched by sightless eyes, or as if his name had been silently called. He looked toward the trolley. Most of the seats were packed with commons sitting with their backs to him, but one bench held only a single individual, someone wearing the short, dark jacket of a Mechanic. Just as unmistakable as the jacket was the shoulder-length, raven-black hair of the Mechanic wearing it.
Master Mechanic Mari.
Alain came to a halt, oblivious to the carts and wagons which had to veer around him. Mechanics are shadows. None of them matter. She does not matter. I should walk on and return to my Guild Hall.
Yet, how odd that in this city our paths crossed in this time and place. Some of the elders at Ihris told me that the illusion which is this world guides us in certain ways, sometimes toward wisdom, sometimes toward error. What led me to this street at this time? What led that Mechanic to be on that particular trolley?
How did she make me look toward her?
Did she cause that? She has not looked back. Why attract my attention in such a subtle manner and then avoid even meeting my eyes?
I am on this road for a reason. I feel that. But is this the road to wisdom or error? Is it a road the Mechanic chose for both of us? Or did something else place us both on it, both unwitting?
He knew what the elders here in Ringhmon would say. Alain considered that, thinking of the difficulty those elders would have controlling their outrage, thinking of their dismissive words toward him. If nothing matters, then nothing matters. Why not see where this road leads?
Still, the consequences if he were seen near this Mechanic again…
Uncertain, Alain took another look at the back of Master Mechanic Mari. His expression did not change, but his breath hissed in between his teeth in a momentary reaction that he could not suppress. The foresight had come to him again, once more centered on this Mechanic, and the dark mist was more ominous than what he had seen in the waste. Black as the darkest night and shot with red veins, the mist foretold danger and violence in terms he needed no elder to interpret. Oddly, once again he sensed the storm clouds from his earlier vision, pressing in toward the Mechanic from the fringes of the dark mist. The Mechanic is in peril still. Does it have something to do with this thing which thinks but does not live? What is such a thing? The Mechanic knew when I spoke of it, though she tried to hide it.
Is it some form of Mechanic troll? Trolls do not truly think or live, and Mechanics are not supposed to be able to make such things. Do I not have an obligation to learn if Mechanics can do this, so as to warn my Guild?
And if this Mechanic can control the actions of a Mage such as I, make me think certain thoughts and react to calls which were not made, then that too the Mage Guild must know.
This is not about the Mechanic. She is nothing. I have already given her warning of danger here, a warning she seems not to have heeded. I am doing this for my Guild. He repeated that to himself, but wondered how much of an illusion his rationale really was. At least it served to justify his actions while he decided what to do next.
Why hadn’t the Mechanic taken his warning? Alain felt rising irritation and ruthlessly restrained the emotion. And why, when the other Mechanics he had seen this morning had all been in pairs, did she travel alone? Was she so careless?
She had not acted careless in the waste. Desperate, certainly, especially when she risked them both to confront what proved to be the salt caravan.
What were the Mechanic’s elders like? She had said they were like his own, strange though that sounded. Did they listen to her? Had she passed on the warning, only to have her elders dismiss her words as Alain’s elders had dismissed his?
He suddenly felt certain that this Mechanic had no choice but to go onward to danger. Once again, he knew how she must feel. A strange sensation, worrisome. How to make it go away? How to release the hold she had placed upon him?
She had saved his life. Alain almost smiled before he caught himself. That was it. Several times she had “helped” him. The Mechanic had used that to influence him. No wonder the elders warned against helping.
How to cancel it out? Like canceled like. Power could defeat power. She had saved him, she had helped him. He would help her, perhaps even save her life. That would cancel whatever the Mechanic had done to him. He would be free of her.
The logic had no flaws. This must be wisdom. Alain began walking behind the trolley, staying close enough to keep it in sight, which was easy enough to do given its slow pace. The way out of error led through this Mechanic. He had gotten into it by associating with her, and now he had to get out of it the same way.
Mari reflected glumly that the only good thing about this journey was the fact that no one dared share a bench with a Mechanic, so that no matter how crowded the trolley got, Mari still had plenty of room to herself. Unfortunately she also had plenty of time to think: about Senior Mechanics who seemed determined to trip her up, about Mages who didn’t act like Mages were supposed to act and gave warnings about things they weren’t supposed to know, and about a city full of hostile commons who seemed ready to blow like a boiler under too much pressure.
She felt some sympathy for the Senior Mechanics concerned that Ringhmon could erupt like Julesport had, but only a little. Senior Mechanics insisted on the policies which kept the commons not only under control but resenting their inferior status. As an apprentice, Mari had gotten into more than one heated argument with other apprentices over her belief that the commons could be controlled without rubbing their noses in it. She had been gaining converts to her point of view when those arguments were abruptly halted. She was called in for some extremely serious questioning by the Guild Hall Supervisor at Caer Lyn, ending in a very clear order. We know what we’re doing. We have centuries of experience. A few years ago you were living in a hovel among the commons, thinking you were no better than them. You were wrong then and you’re wrong now. Listen, learn and obey.