Gerd whispered some instructions to his subordinates, emphasizing his words with angry gestures, then with a bow waved Mari into the building. She followed, trying to walk in a confident and competent manner. Most Mechanics adopted a swagger to their walk, a special way of emphasizing their superiority, but Mari had never been able to do it right. When she tried to swagger, it usually looked as if she were swinging her hips in an awkward attempt to look seductive. That wasn’t quite the professional image that she wanted to cultivate, so Mari had eventually decided to leave the swaggering to others.
Secretly, she had always thought the swagger looked a little silly, anyway, so she stuck to her decision even after some other Mechanics mocked her for walking like a common. They weren’t the sort of Mechanics whose opinions she cared a great deal about anyway.
Gerd led the way to an unadorned doorway and, gulping nervously, announced their presence to those inside.
City Manager Polder proved to be a small, balding man with a sharp face and a sharper smile. Mari wondered why Polder reminded her of the taller and heavier set Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon, then realized Polder’s smile was just as false as the one Stimon had sometimes worn. Twins under the skin, those two.
Mari noticed that Polder dismissed guard leader Gerd with the casual ease of someone used to exercising power. She noticed as well that Polder’s garments were very nice but not ostentatious. The man appeared to have so much power he didn’t worry about trying to impress people. That also echoed a Mechanic’s attitude in a disquieting way.
Polder led the way deeper into the building. “How was your journey to Ringhmon, Lady Mechanic?”
In no mood to be reminded of the misery she had endured, Mari responded frostily. “I’ve had better. My caravan was destroyed by bandits.”
Polder’s false smile didn’t waver in the slightest. “The Waste is a forbidding place. The Empire does a very poor job of policing its side, and the brigands there too often harass those on Ringhmon’s territory, fleeing before Ringhmon’s forces can call them to account. It is fortunate that you were rescued by a band of salt traders.”
It wasn’t surprising that Polder had learned that a Mechanic had entered the city with that group of traders. But why had he made a point of telling her that he knew it?
“You were not the only survivor so rescued, I understand,” Polder continued.
So that was it. He wanted to know more about the Mage who the traders would have said had been with her. Mari made a gesture of indifference. “There was some Mage also from the caravan. He showed up when I found the salt traders.”
“You were not traveling together?”
Mari turned a frown on Polder. No need to lie on this one. Just say what anyone would expect to hear. “A Mechanic traveling with a Mage? Are you seriously asking that?”
“No, Lady Mechanic, of course not.” Polder cleared his throat. “I must admit to some surprise, Lady Mechanic. Our contract with your Guild specified that we needed someone extremely well qualified for the task. The best to be found in the eastern lands. Your Guild offices in Palandur insisted that you were that person.”
“My Guild had good grounds for saying I met the contract’s requirements.”
Somewhere along the way, two more guards joined them. Mari tried not to look wary as she took in their plain but very good armor and alert movements. No shiny flashiness like the gate guards. These were the sort of guards she had seen clustered around the Emperor in Palandur, guards who were chosen not for looks but for ruthless efficiency. Yet Polder, officially just the City Manager, somehow merited such wolflike guardians.
Mari started to wonder who really ran Ringhmon. The City Fathers might think they did, but Polder seemed more and more like the one in charge.
After passing through several more guarded entries and along narrow hallways lined with identical doors bearing cryptic designations, the small group halted at a wooden door reinforced by bands of high-quality metal. Polder produced a large key and unlocked the door, then rapped several times before entering.
Once inside, Mari could see the reason for knocking on the door. Three more guards were in the room, one positioned behind the door, and all watching them alertly. But then she caught sight of the machine she had come to fix, and her breath caught.
“Impressive, is it not?” Polder asked.
“Very impressive,” Mari admitted. She stepped closer, taking in the size and complexity of the device that dominated the room. She felt her spirits rising, a rush of anticipation at being able to work on this machine and prove her ability to fix it.
“A Model Six out of the Mechanics Guild calculating and analysis device workshops of Alfarin,” Polder stated, his voice smug.
“I know,” Mari replied. “It’s actually a Form Three of the Model Six, with additional data storage and analysis capability added.” She glanced at Polder, who let himself look mildly impressed.
“Then you know this device well?” he inquired.
“As well as anyone but the Mechanic who builds them, and that Mechanic was among my instructors for a while.” He had overseen the construction of only one of the Form Threes, as far as Mari knew. Someone had wanted to spare no expense to get the best calculating and analysis device that could be built, and the Mechanics Guild had been happy to comply.
But, according to the records she had been shown in Palandur before she left, Ringhmon had purchased only a Form One of the Model Six, and that several decades ago.The Mechanics Guild Hall here had an ongoing contract to keep it operating. The average city had only one calculating and analysis device, because the Guild kept them very expensive and the supply extremely limited. They were all Model Sixes, of course. The Guild built only one design, though it allowed buyers to add a few extras to the basic Model Six, which had been around for a very long time. Mari had never met anyone who had seen a Model Five, and when the Fives were pulled from service however many decades ago, every one of the operating and repair manuals had either been destroyed or consigned to the no access permitted vaults at Mechanics Guild headquarters in Palandur.
She had asked questions about that, too, until the uncomfortably paternal Professor T’mos had warned her about it. The Guild will tell you what you need to know, Mari. If something is locked away, there’s a good reason. You obviously don’t need to know whatever it is if it’s locked away.
No wonder history hadn’t interested her. Too much of it was hidden.
Mari glanced around at the three room guards, City Manager Polder, and his two other guards. “I can’t work with this crowd in here. I don’t need the distractions and I don’t need to be stepping over them to get to things.” She wasn’t worried about them watching her work, since calculating and analysis thinking ciphers were far too complex for commons to figure out. Even the great majority of Mechanics couldn’t grasp them, but the Guild didn’t worry about that because only a few calculating and analysis devices existed.
Polder nodded without argument, then gestured to the three room guards to leave.
Mari evaluated the size of the room again and glanced at him. “It’s still too crowded.”
The City Manager regarded her, then pointed at his two guards and with two quick flicks of his finger indicated that his two guards should also go into the hallway. Both men went, standing out in the hall so they could look inside from slightly different angles, their hands resting near their sword hilts. Polder himself stepped back, flat against the wall, and folded his arms. He obviously intended to stay.