S’san looked at Alain, startled. “You are predicting the end of the world?”
“The end of the world as it is known,” Alain said, his unemotional tone of voice contrasting oddly with the dire nature of his words. “The destruction of almost all that exists, and the death of many, many of those who now live. I have seen this, as have other Mages.”
Mari managed not to reveal her surprise. She and Alain had discussed the troubled state of the world, and he had described the looming danger as a storm before, but why had he never mentioned having foreseen this storm of devastation? And why had he asked her permission to bring it up now as if it was something she already knew about? But that was something to ask about later. “Professor,” Mari said, “if you believe this is the best possible world, then why did you want to change things? Because you did. You had no idea exactly what would happen, but you encouraged me to think in ways that would lead to a change in the way things are. There’s no telling what releasing that banned technology would do to this world. Why did you hope for that if you think change is wrong?”
S’san sat without speaking for a long time, before finally shaking her head. “I always said you were a great student, Mari. Now you’ve caught your teacher in an error. I did try to have it both ways, didn’t I?” After another long pause, Professor S’san shrugged. “Not that it matters anymore. The vaults of the Mechanic Guild won’t be accessible to you now, Mari. Without that lever to accomplish change, I don’t know what one person can do.”
Alain spoke into the silence that followed. “One person can lead many others.”
“Ah, yes,” S’san said. “Mari already has a Mage. That’s something the world has never seen, a Mage and a Mechanic working together. I’m sure that’s something that your Guild never claimed to have predicted,” she told Alain with a sardonic smile.
“It was in the prophecy,” Alain said. “That one would unite Mages, Mechanics, and commons in one cause.”
“The prophecy?” S’san asked. “Which one?”
Alain looked at her, apparently asking permission again, but Mari shook her head. “Nothing that matters to us,” she insisted.
S’san leaned forward again. “Why don’t you trust me with that information? I may still be able to help you.”
Mari sighed, letting her aggravation show. “Oh, it’s that daughter of Jules nonsense that the commons believe in. Just because I killed a dragon—”
“It was your second dragon,” Alain pointed out.
“And you don’t have to keep telling everyone that! Just because I killed a dragon to save Alain and happened to save all these commons, too, and then I gave them some medical supplies and talked to Alain and acted like a human being instead of a Mechanic, those commons thought I was—that I was her!”
S’san gazed at Mari intently, then at Alain. “The commons believe in that prophecy, but I was always told it had never actually been made. Yet this Mage just spoke of it as if it were real.”
“Nothing is real,” Alain said. “But the prophecy was made.”
“Alain!” Mari said, her voice sharper than she intended.
“Mages, Mechanics, and commons in one cause,” S’san mused. “Do you already have allies among the commons, Mari?”
“No!”
“She has a general,” Alain said, “sworn to her service.”
“Stop helping, Alain!” Mari said as she glared at him. Why was he doing this?
“So.” S’san had brought one hand up to her chin as she thought. “Mari, there has long been a tremendous irony in that the two Great Guilds, while hating each other, have effectively worked together to the same end: to keep the world stable. Both have used the commons to achieve that goal, dividing the commons against themselves. Whenever any powerful number of commons has tried to rise against the Great Guilds, another powerful group of commons has been found to oppose them and do the bidding of the Great Guilds in exchange for some temporary advantage. If your idea is to form an army of commons—”
“What?! I never said anything about—”
“It won’t work.” S’san shook her head, eyes still intent. “Not without something that would allow that army to prevail against everything that the Great Guilds and the commons who ally with them could throw against it. If you had been able to access that banned technology in the Guild vaults, get the tools that technology must offer, it might have held the advantage you needed. But without that, your army can’t win.”
“I don’t have an army!” Mari almost yelled. “I don’t want an army! Why would I want to start another war?” But Alain gave her a look, and Mari knew why. In her mind she heard again the words he had spoken at Dorcastle, words engraved in her memory as Alain told her of his vision. You and I are on this wall, again…a mighty battle rages around us. Another war? One she would somehow start? The idea was terrifying.
“I have told you my advice on the matter,” S’san said, unaware of the memory that brought a tightness to Mari’s chest. S’san paused, her face troubled. “The daughter of Jules.”
“Professor, I—”
“I’m not saying you are her, Mari. But that title—the belief of the commons in the one they accept as that person—is a very powerful variable. How that will affect the equations which govern this world I am far from wise enough to know. That hope alone, that the daughter would someday free them, may have helped keep the commons quiet longer than any other factor. Rather than revolt en masse, the commons have waited for her to appear.” The professor paused, then shrugged again. “I cannot guess how that might change things. Mari, here is my other advice, for whatever good it is. The stars above know that my plans thus far have been utter failures, so you need not feel obligated to do as I suggest. Find somewhere quiet, somewhere you can hide while new plans are formulated. That may be for a long time, unfortunately, as I have few ideas at this point. The Guild wants you, and the Guild will seek out everyone who might be your friend or ally to see if any of them can lead the Guild to you.”
Mari felt that tightness in her guts again. “You’re in danger because of me.”
“You were set up to be kidnapped and possibly killed partly because of what I taught you!” S’san raised an imperative forefinger. “We know a bit more about the problem now, but the solution, if there is one, remains unknown.”
Alain gave her a look, one in which Mari thought she read some meaning, but she focused on S’san as the professor spoke, pretending not to notice Alain’s gaze.
“If you die or are captured and then disposed of,” S’san was saying, “I know how that sounds, Mari, and I’m sorry, but we must assume that is what we’re dealing with—if you are gone, then there may not be any solution. Dematr may continue its slow slide into darkness, with all the world gradually becoming like Tiae, the Great Guilds controlling less and less as they cling to what they will not change.”
“It will not be slow,” Alain repeated impassively.
S’san slapped her chair angrily. “Fast or slow, I can offer no other suggestions or advice at the moment. I will continue to explore the chances of the Guild forgiving and forgetting, of seeing that some change must come, but regard that as unlikely at best.”
“I won’t renounce Alain,” Mari said. “That is off the table.”
“I understand. As your professor, that distresses me. As a person, it gives me hope. Maybe what this world needs is someone who won’t do whatever they think is necessary to make things be the way they want. Now, you can’t linger here or in this city. I recommend you get out of the Empire and go as far west as possible. There are places where the hand of the Guild is a little weaker. The forests around Landsend or the mountains north of Daarendi. Perhaps you’ll have a better chance there. You have already lingered here too long. I do not think the Guild is watching me constantly, but I know I am under suspicion. You should leave quickly, though I wish you could stay and talk, you and this intriguing Mage of yours.”