“We.” Mari looked up again. “It’s not really my banner, is it? It’s our banner. It’s about what we’re all fighting for.” She seemed to be comforted by that.
“Symbols are important,” said Mechanic Rob, who had joined them at Julesport. “And I think you’re right that it’s important this symbol be about what everyone wants to happen and not about you personally. The Senior Mechanics are already claiming you just want to set yourself up as the sole leader of a new Guild.”
“There!” Mari said. “See? Someone gets it! Wait. What are the Senior Mechanics saying?”
“That this is just about you wanting to be in charge, becoming some sort of queen of the Guild,” Rob said.
“The banner works against that,” Calu said. “It makes it clear that you and all of us are fighting for something much bigger than some power grab involving the Mechanics Guild.”
“It’s your banner,” Alli said, “but it’s not about you. We could fix that, though. Put a crown on it. A big one with Mari Queen Of Everything stenciled on it.”
“Don’t you dare!”
Alain and Mari found the captain of the Gray Lady in good spirits. “I am confident we’ll run down that Mechanic ship, Lady,” he told Mari. “Not tonight. We may catch sight of her upper masts before the sun sets tomorrow, and we’ll catch her fair before the sun rises on the day after.”
“We’re considering trying to take that ship,” Mari said. “Do you know anything about sneaking up on a ship at night and getting people aboard it?”
The captain scratched his head. “Well, now, I may have heard a few things about that. Just idle talk in the portside bars, you know. But I think I may remember enough to help you out, Lady.”
Alain could easily see the deception in the man, who showed every sign of being extremely familiar with the matters discussed. “The moon will still be bright.”
“That depends on what time we make our approach, Sir Mage. If no clouds come along to aid our concealment in the night, we can move in between the time the moon sinks and the sun rises.” The captain paused, eyeing Mari. “I do feel obligated to point out, Lady, that the matter we are discussing is commonly referred to as piracy.”
“That may be the one crime I have not yet been accused of,” Mari said. “We’ll make some plans tomorrow.”
“Aye, Lady. That will also give my crew time to sew the armbands your Mechanics have asked for.”
“Armbands.” She gave Alain an aggravated look.
“It’s not a problem, Lady,” the captain assured her. “All sailors know some sewing. There aren’t any tailors out on the water to mend rips in clothes, and sometimes the sails themselves require some repairs.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Mari said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow about the plans.”
Alain could see that she was dogged by weariness, but Mari circulated about the ship, talking not only to her fellow Mechanics but also to the common members of the crew, the healers Cas and Pol, and even the new Mages. Her stubbornly determined attempts to converse with the Mages Hiro, Tana, and Dimitri were getting nowhere, though, until Mage Dav intervened and began presenting questions of wisdom to her. His inquiries were posed in terms that Mari couldn’t grasp, so she didn’t realize their purpose. But she gave Alain a look that told him she assumed Mage Dav was acting for a reason, and after a few rounds of questions all three new Mages inclined their heads towards her. “We accept your wisdom, elder,” Mage Hiro said.
Mari’s jaw dropped, and even Alain had trouble hiding his reaction. “Elder?” she asked.
“An elder,” Mage Hiro said in his emotionless voice, “is one who teaches wisdom, or a new wisdom. You have shown a new wisdom to Mage Alain, Mage Asha, and Mage Dav. You will be Elder Mari to us now.”
As Mari and Alain walked back to the small cabin, she turned a baffled look on him. “Elder? I’m nineteen years old.”
“Yes, Elder,” Alain said, unable to resist the impulse.
She glared at him. “You just lost a chance at a warm, happy night, Sir Mage.”
“I… am… sorry?”
“I’ll bet you are.” Mari reached the cabin, looking over the main deck of the Gray Lady. The last vestiges of daylight were fading in the west, the sea a great, dark expanse stretching uninterrupted on all sides, the stars already shining brightly in the vast bowl of the heavens.
“Look up there,” Mari whispered. “One of those stars is the one our people came from. And somewhere the remains of the great ship are still above this world. Do you think it could be one of the twins that follow the moon?”
“Did you not say you could look?”
“My far-seers aren’t powerful enough to tell,” Mari said. “And I can’t divert the efforts of the Mechanics to making a big far-seer just to satisfy my curiosity as soon as possible. That’s not a hard decision to make.”
She fell silent, gazing out over the water. After a long time, she spoke in a wistful way. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Alain. About how my choices were still driving us toward that battle in Dorcastle, and that I could make other choices if I really wanted to change that. And I remembered the western continent. You and I know where that is now. I could tell the captain of the Gray Lady to point this ship toward it, and I’m sure we could make it, and then we could just stay there. We have plenty of men and women. We would be safe from the Storm. We could just build something new there, and I’d never have to face that battle in Dorcastle.”
She fell silent again, this time for so long that Alain felt the need to prod her. “But you have not done that.”
“No.” Mari looked at him, both sad and determined. “Because what about everyone else? What about all of those people we saw in Altis, and in Julesport? The fathers and mothers and children. Did you see the babies in Julesport? They wouldn’t have a chance. How could I just abandon them to that fate? It’s a choice I have, but it’s a choice I can’t make. I have to keep trying. I have to keep trying to fix things, even if my choices lead us to that battle, and…”
She bit her lip, staring into his eyes. “Even if I lead us into that battle and we don’t come out of it. As long as we win.”
“Mari—” Alain began, once again feeling wracked by guilt.
“No. That doesn’t mean I want to die,” Mari said. “I intend doing my best not to die. And my best to ensure that you don’t die. Because if I lived and lost you then the greatest victory would still feel like a defeat to me. But I need to accept the possibility, or I’ll be so scared of what might happen that I won’t be able to do what we have to do.”
“You know that my foresight shows things,” Alain began, his resolve wavering.
“Yes. We— Do you mean it might show something else? Something… bad? About you or me?” Mari inhaled abruptly, a deep and shuddering intake of breath. “But then we could try to change it, right?”
“Yes.” If he had ever believed in anything, he now believed in that.
“But if you did—” A deeper darkness passed across her face. “If you did.”
“Mari?”
“Alain, don’t die! Do you understand?”
“You have told me before that I am not allowed to die,” Alain said. He was still struggling to figure out what Mari wanted. “I will die, though, if it is the only way to save you.”
“We have been over this!” Mari said in a low growl, pointing her forefinger at him. “You don’t do something stupid in the name of saving me! You especially do not die in the name of saving me! And if your foresight, which I am really beginning to hate, shows you or me or someone else we really care about being badly hurt or… or dying, then we change that. We do not accept it. Am I clear on that?”