But that could only happen after they got out of here. “Can we do anything about this alarm?”
Mage Alain stood silent for so long without answering that Mari started to worry. Then he shook his head. “Not yet. I need to rest, then perhaps I can get us through it without alerting its master.”
“Any idea how long you’ll need to rest?”
Mage Alain twitched his shoulders in the most minimal of shrugs. “A while.”
“Five minutes a while, half an hour a while, an hour a while?” Mari pressed.
He finally looked at her again. “Minutes? Hour?”
“Got it. A while,” Mari agreed, thinking guiltily that if she hadn’t insisted that the Mage create the hole to let her get her tool kit, he might already be able to handle this. Unfortunately, along with not learning math, Mages didn’t seem to worry about measuring time in anything more precise than morning and afternoon. She pointed to the nearest cell. “That door’s ajar. Let’s wait in there where we’ll be hidden if anyone comes along.”
“That is acceptable.” Once inside, the young Mage sat down against one wall, breathing slowly and deeply.
Mari checked for any sign of a far-listener in this cell, didn’t find any, then sat near the door, her hand holding the pistol ready, pointed at the ceiling. The throbbing in her head had faded to a continuous dull ache.
Mage Alain sat silently until she had settled. He was looking not at her, but between them, his expression revealing nothing.
What was he looking at? Oh. “Is it still there?” Mari asked.
Alain’s gaze rose to meet hers. “No.”
“That’s a relief.”
“It was never there. It does not exist. But it does remain.” His eyes stayed on hers. “Your…tools. You said you can disconnect.”
“You mean the thread? The metaphorical thread that isn’t there but is?” Mari asked. “Unfortunately, all of my tools only work on stuff that’s really there.”
“Nothing is really there,” Alain insisted.
“Blazes! I…my tools only work on the strong illusions. I can’t unscrew an allegory or disconnect a metaphor, Mage Alain!”
“You cannot?” He definitely appeared disappointed.
Absurdly, she felt bad that she couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry. Honest. But neither my tools or my training can do that. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I could.”
His eyes were on hers again. “You gave me the impression that you could do many things and do them well.”
Flattery? From a Mage? “I wish you were a Senior Mechanic. None of them feel that way.” Mari shook her head, feeling overwhelmed as the reality of their circumstances still trapped in the dungeon overcame the last traces of euphoria after the escape from her cell. “I’m not experienced enough even though I’m well-trained. This is my first job outside a Guild Hall, the first time I’ve really been outside a Guild Hall without a lot of other Mechanics around.” Life in a Guild Hall, life at the academy in Palandur, safe and simple and predictable, seemed like one of the Mage’s illusions now. “I don’t know what the blazes I’m doing.”
“You are certainly good at creating the illusion of competence, then.”
Mari stared at the Mage, who showed no signs that his comment was meant anything but seriously. He seemed to think that he had paid her a great compliment. She started giggling, fighting to stay quiet. “I’m going to have to make sure that’s in my next performance evaluation. ‘Master Mechanic Mari is good at creating the illusion of competence.’” Her sides shaking with suppressed laughter only a few steps removed from hysteria born of injury and stress, Mari slumped against the wall.
The Mage watched her intently. “Are you well?”
She managed to get her laughter under control with the help of some renewed throbs in her head and sat straighter, wiping her eyes. “Oh, just great. I’ve got a lump on my head, I’m in a dungeon with a Mage, and if I’m honest with my Guild about what’s happened down here I’ll be locked away forever. Couldn’t be better.” Mari paused to look at the Mage’s face, no sign of emotion on it. “Do you ever laugh?”
“No. It is not permitted.”
There was that sense of pity filling her again. Mari looked away. He’s not a lost puppy. He’s a young man. He chose this life. He’s not my responsibility. “Why did you come after me?”
“There is a thread—”
“The one that’s not there but is. Yeah. But I asked why. Why did you follow that thread, assuming there is a thread?”
The Mage looked at her, and for a moment she could see the concern in his eyes. “I felt that I needed to…help you.”
Mari smiled at him. “Well, thanks.”
“Because,” Mage Alain continued, “I thought that might be the only way to break the spell you have placed upon me.”
Her smile vanished. “Spell?”
“The thread may have something to do with it. It holds us together. That is why I wanted you to disconnect it, to remove what you have done to me.”
“I—” Mari paused to try to reason out what the Mage was saying. “You think I’m doing something to you? Using that metaphorical thread? You think that I made that thread that isn’t there?”
He nodded. “It must be so. I keep thinking of you. You make me remember things that I should not. I do things when you are involved that I would not ever considering doing otherwise.” The Mage’s otherwise blank expression contained just the tiniest hint of accusation. “I do not know how you have done this to me. I thought that if I returned the help you had given me that I would be free of the inexplicable influence you have over me. But it does not seem to be working, and you say you cannot break the thread.”
Mari realized that her mouth had fallen open as she stared at Mage Alain. “Are you serious?”
“What would I be if I was not serious?”
“You’re saying that I put a spell on you that controls your thoughts and actions?”
“Why else am I here?” the Mage asked.
“Because it was the right thing to do!”
“The…what? I am still uncertain about what right thing means— ” The trace of puzzlement had returned to him.
“Listen…Mage Alain! I don’t…put spells on boys! Or men! Or anybody! I have no idea why you think that you are thinking about me, but I assure you that it has nothing to do with me thinking about you or making you think that you want to think about me!”
Mage Alain looked back at her for a while before speaking. “I could not follow all of that.”
She gazed at him, feeling helpless. “All right. In short, whatever you are thinking or doing is all from you. I have nothing to do with it.”
“Then why does the thread link us? Why is it you I think about? Why is it you I want to help? This does not happen with others. Only with you.”
Oh, no. A Mage was crushing on her. What had she ever done to deserve ending up in a dungeon with a Mage who was crushing on her? Why couldn’t Alli be here to help her explain things? Alli understood boys and men. Better than Mari did, anyway. What would Alli say to Mage Alain? “It’s not anything that I did. All right, maybe what I did were things you liked. But I didn’t do them to make you think about me or to make you do things.”
“Liked?” Alain asked. “I am also still unsure as to what that means.”
Stars above. Better makes this as simple as possible. “It’s because…you’re a boy.” Mari chose her words carefully. “And sometimes boys get…interested in a particular girl, and maybe, for some totally inexplicable reason that completely escapes me, you…got interested in me.”