A strong escort awaiting me at Yinville. Once, six months ago, I would have believed that. Words in the orders swam into focus. “If the escort is not at Yinville when you arrive, they will be very close and you are to wait the short time until they join you.” Perfectly reasonable orders, if that hadn’t meant waiting alone in an area overrun with petty warlords, bandit gangs and desperate men and women of all kinds.
Why send me to Tiae? Why send anyone to Tiae? To get rid of them. Death is one of the nicer things that could happen to me there. I am to be condemned for what I might know, for what I might do. Mari knew what was really happening. So did Vilma. But for the first time since arriving at Edinton, Mari refused to just play the game, refused to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. “Senior Mechanic Vilma, can I ask why? Why is this being done?” she said bluntly.
Vilma gave her a bland look in return that provided no clue that anything other than a routine meeting was taking place. “For the good of the Guild. That is why we do everything. Now, for obvious reasons, for your own safety, we want this kept low profile. You are to mention your mission and where it is to take place to no one.”
Low profile. If Mari didn’t return, she would eventually be declared lost, far too late for anyone else to do anything about it or object to her assignment. Mari would be a Mechanic who had died trying to carry out her orders, a good example for all other Mechanics. An arrest, on the other hand, couldn’t be kept low profile now. Too many people knew Mari, too many rumors were going around about Ringhmon and Dorcastle. An arrest might feed dissent, might cause others to ask questions.
But she didn’t doubt what the outcome would be if she refused these orders. The competency hearing to strip Mari of her Master Mechanic rank and a loyalty evaluation to decide whether she should be sent to a cell at Longfalls, the results of both predetermined before either “assessment” even began.
It left her only one option.
Mari gazed at Senior Mechanic Vilma. “I’ll be gone before nightfall.”
Less than two hours later, Mari strode toward the main entry of the Guild Hall, a pack on her back holding her tools and her small collection of personal possessions, as well as a far-talker that had been signed out to her for the trip. The far-talker, as big as her lower arm, was heavy and had only a short range, a symbol of the deterioration of Mechanic technology over the decades and centuries. Still, it provided a capability that no means of communication available to commons could match.
Despite Vilma’s instructions to tell no one that she was leaving, Mari knew that word had spread that she had been seen packing, that she had picked up some journey food from the Guild Hall kitchen, and now she was heading for the exit bearing a large travel pack on her back. Her “low profile” departure was probably already known to everyone in the Guild Hall.
Mechanics and apprentices watched her go, some of them openly upset, others pretending not to see her. Three of the Mechanics hastened to intercept her. “Mari, what the blazes—” one of them began.
“I can’t talk about it,” Mari broke in.
“Are you going to be all right?” another asked.
“I don’t know.”
The three Mechanics exchanged looks. “Listen, Mari,” Mechanic Ayame insisted. Middle-aged, shrewd, and frustrated by Senior Mechanic rules, she should have been the leader of discontent here. But burdened by long years of bitter experience with the cost of dissent, Ayame had been sullenly submissive to the Senior Mechanics when Mari had arrived at Edinton. Since then, Ayame had increasingly sought out Mari and grown more bold. Was that the sort of thing Senior Mechanic Vilma had meant when she complained about Mari’s “negative influence” on others? “We’re willing to take a stand on this,” Ayame declared. “Just say the word.” The two other Mechanics nodded in agreement.
Mari stopped walking, speaking low and fast, aware that Senior Mechanics were watching. “No. It wouldn’t do me any good and you’d all end up in serious trouble. This isn’t the end of this. I’m going to get some answers. I don’t want anyone else getting burned until I have those answers and decide what to do. Please let it go, look after yourselves, and I’ll deal with this.”
The three exchanged looks, then Ayame nodded. “All right, Mari. Most people here are either unwilling to buck the Senior Mechanics or else afraid to go against Guild policy. But not everyone. Not any more. We’ll wait to hear from you. When you need us, call us. Got it?” Without waiting for an answer from her, the three stepped away to let Mari continue on her way.
One more confrontation awaited her, though. Mechanic Abad waited by the main entry, his expression stubborn. “They said I shouldn’t talk to you, but I wanted you to know. I never told them you’d done anything wrong, Master Mechanic. I told them you did good work, I told them you never said anything against the Guild, and I told them the truth about what happened when you got shot at. I don’t understand why you’re being sent off like this.”
“Me, neither. Thanks for being a good Mechanic and a good working partner,” Mari said, not having to feign sincerity.
“They kept asking me what you promised me, or what you told me, like the Senior Mechanics thought you’d messed with my head or something. I’m sorry, Master Mechanic. I must have done something wrong.”
“No, you didn’t,” Mari said. “You did your job and you did it right. But as I’ve been finding out, you don’t have to do anything wrong to get in trouble, or to get sent to Minut.”
“They’re sending you…to Minut? Minut?”
“Yeah. That’s what my orders say.” Let the Senior Mechanics answer the questions that would generate after Mari had gone. “Goodbye, Mechanic.”
Mari left the Guild Hall, crossed the wide plaza surrounding it, then walked steadily toward a nearby stable, wondering if Dark Mechanics seeking revenge for what she had done at Dorcastle would take another shot at her. Little wonder the Senior Mechanics still showed no concern on those grounds. A Dark Mechanic bullet would solve the Guild’s problem with Mari and leave the hands of the Senior Mechanics clean. She noticed a Mage following her at a distance, but making no attempt to get closer. Perhaps her sudden reappearance on the streets so soon after the two failed plots to get her had thrown off her stalkers.
Mari’s orders called for her to rent a horse and take it south across the border, as no regular transport still operated between the Confederation and what used to be Tiae. “Have you heard of any strong force going south recently?” she asked the owner of the stable.
“South?” he questioned. “To the border, Lady Mechanic?”
“South of there. Into Tiae.”
Clearly startled, the common shook his head. “No one goes across the border, Lady.”
Mari looked at the stable owner, remembering the commons she had met in Dorcastle and how differently they had acted when she had hidden her identity as a Mechanic, how much more they had told her. “It’s very important that I know,” Mari said, speaking in the same tones she would have used with another Mechanic. “Can you tell me anything?”
The owner looked back at Mari, uncertain, then relaxed a bit and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lady, but no. A single rider might be missed, but…you say a strong force? Many riders? Everyone would be talking about that. My cousin is in the border troops, with the cavalry. I saw him just yesterday when he brought a few of their mounts in for new shoes from our blacksmith. He would have said something.”
Mari nodded, trying her best to look calm as her worst suspicions were confirmed. “What about a lot of riders, or foot soldiers, getting ready to head south? Have you heard anything about that? It might have been kept secret.”