The Dragons of Dorcastle Read online

  As much as she had always chafed at authority, Mari found herself wishing that a more experienced Mechanic was with her. Someone who might know what to do and how to survive.

  Of course, if there had been another Mechanic with her, she never would have spoken to the Mage. She surely would have been overruled on telling the Mage to come with her.

  And Mage Alain would have died, and she would have been captured by those bandits on the ledge.

  Not a better outcome.

  At least for the moment they seemed to be safe. Mari tried to draw in a deep breath but ended up hacking painfully. Her throat was a dry wasteland to match the ground they were surrounded by. “We’re going to need water soon,” she croaked.

  The Mage nodded. “Do even those from the stars need water then?” he asked in that empty of feeling voice.

  She gave him an annoyed look, unable to tell if he was joking or giving her a hard time. “Mechanics have special skills, but we’re still as human as anyone else when it comes to things like food and water. Don’t Mages need water?”

  “Of course. We also share those same needs.” The Mage appeared thoughtful for a moment, as if recalling a memory. “Perhaps all people came from the stars.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Funny?” The Mage asked as if not knowing what the word meant.

  He couldn’t be that cut off from emotions, could he? Mari wanted to snarl a reply, but her dry throat caught and she coughed again.

  The Mage considered her, then spoke slowly. “There is a place nearby where water lies.”

  Mari felt hope flare as her head came up. “Where?”

  “The caravan.”

  The hope vanished like a burst bubble. “Are you crazy, Mage? We can’t go back there.”

  “Not at this moment. But you said they expect us to flee in panic. This is so. They will not expect us to stay near the caravan, to creep down when opportunity offers and find water there.”

  Mari took shallow breaths, lost in thought as she considered the idea and how dry her mouth felt. The plan was insane, but somehow the totally emotionless way in which the Mage had outlined it made it seem almost possible. “It’s our only chance, isn’t it?”

  “I can see no other action which would offer any chance.”

  She could be too impulsive. Her teachers had warned her of it many times, but her impulsive decisions so far today had kept her and the Mage alive. “Then let’s go a little higher up before we start bearing back toward the pass. We’ll wait until it gets dark. Hopefully the bandits will be done looting the caravan by then.”

  “The bandits did not seem concerned with loot,” the Mage pointed out again.

  Mari nodded wearily. “That’s right. They blew up the front wagons. Why destroy loot? Even if they wanted me, why throw away the chance to pick up some loot on the side? And those weapons. And the explosives. How could any caravan carry enough loot to pay back those expenses? Mage Alain, I don’t expect you’ve priced out the cost of repeating rifles and bullets, but the Empire itself wouldn’t field an attack force like that unless it had a very good reason. There was an army’s worth of rifles there, and a treasure chest’s worth of gold used up in the bullets they’ve already fired today.”

  “So you said. Capturing you must have been worth such a cost to them.”

  Mari’s laugh once again turned into a choking cough. “Me? I’m skilled at what I do, but I’m not that conceited.”

  The Mage watched her intently. “Perhaps your value is greater than you know, greater than any treasure spent in pursuit of you.”

  The sort of statement any girl wanted to hear from a guy, and she had to hear it from a Mage with an expressionless face and a toneless voice. “I’m not that special. I have special talents, and the job in Ringhmon will be worth a lot to my Guild, but—” Mari realized that the Mage was now staring at her. “What?”

  “Do you know of foresight?”

  “Foresight? You mean fortune-telling?” Mari asked, not bothering to hide her automatic scorn.

  “No,” the Mage replied with no sign of being offended. But then he wasn’t showing much sign of any feelings, so that didn’t mean anything. “True foresight tells what will happen and cannot be summoned reliably, nor is it easy to understand what can be seen or heard.” The Mage was looking directly at her, his expression somehow serious despite the lack of visible emotion. “I have developed a small gift of foresight. Some new danger awaits you in Ringhmon.”

  Mari felt herself stiffening, rubbing her left arm slightly against her body so that she could feel the pistol resting in its shoulder holster under her jacket. “Please tell me you’re not threatening me.” Every warning she had ever been given about Mages came back with renewed force.

  He gazed at her for a long moment before replying. “No. This danger does not come from me.”

  Of course, Mari thought. It was a come-on. The Mage wanted her to offer something in exchange for more information. The oldest con game in the book, and he actually had the nerve to pull it while they were being chased by bandits. “What is it you want? How much money would it take for you to see more about this danger you claim I face?”

  The Mage’s expression didn’t waver. “No sum of money or other favor would make a difference. What my foresight provided has no value to me. What little I know I will tell you.”

  Surely he wanted money. Her Guild seniors had never wavered in their assessment of Mages. Money-grubbing frauds, fakes, liars, never to be trusted or spoken to. Or touched. How many rules had she broken today? “You don’t want any payment?”

  He shook his head. “You made no contract for my services. Warning you may fall under my contract with the owners of the caravan. Either way, you owe me nothing, and I do not care for money.”

  “How can you be so cold-blooded about everything?”

  She could have sworn that one corner of the Mage’s mouth twitched upward for just an instant as he gestured toward the sun beating down upon them. “I am actually quite warm at the moment.”

  Even though delivered in a voice without any feeling, that sign of humanity, or an actual sense of humor, caused Mari to forget her anger. There really was a boy behind that face Mage Alain used as a mask. He seemed absolutely sincere, and his refusal to consider payment was the opposite of what Mari had been told of Mages by her Guild. This Mage Alain was weird, but he didn’t seem to be evil. “So, all you know is that there is some danger for me in Ringhmon.”

  “I heard words that hold no sense to me. Beware that in Ringhmon which thinks but does not live.”

  Mari stopped breathing for a moment, certain that she had betrayed her shock. She inhaled slowly, trying to get herself back under control, wondering how a Mage could have acquired knowledge of the secret contract for which she had been ordered to Ringhmon. “Why are you saying that?”

  “It is what I heard. I do not know the meaning. I know of nothing which thinks but does not live.”

  “Not even any Mechanic device?” Mari pressed.

  “I know nothing of any Mechanic device of any kind.” The Mage paused to look at her, his eyes the only thing alive in his face. “I have been in a Mage Guild Hall since I was five years old. There I was told that all Mechanic devices were tricks.”

  Was he lying? He had to be lying. But why? And why declare he knew nothing more if the Mage was trying to extort something from her? “That’s what I was told about Mages, that everything you did was fake.”

  Mage Alain appeared to think on that for a moment before answering. “We were both misinformed, then.”

  He wasn’t making a joke this time. Or was he? Mari couldn’t tell. She wasn’t that good at understanding boys, who weren’t nearly as easy to figure out as a balky steam locomotive or fluid dynamics equations, but this Mage seemed far harder to understand than the apprentices and full Mechanics she had grown up around. “I can’t figure you out,” she said. “What do you want?”

  “What I want does not matter.�� He said it mechanically, if that description could ever fit a Mage, the words coming out as if they had been drilled into him.

  Remembering some of the harsher harassment she had endured in her Mechanics Guild apprenticeship, Mari wondered what things had been like for this Mage. What had been done to him to make him seem so inhuman? “Why can’t you just act like everyone else?”

  He gave her an inscrutable look. “I am not like everyone else.”

  For some reason that sounded sad to her. “I ask your pardon, Mage.” The formal words almost stuck in her parched throat, but Mari forced them out, seeing real surprise flashing for a moment in the Mage’s eyes in response. “I’m a Mechanic, but I’m not closed-minded.” Which has got me in trouble already more times than I can count. “Thank you for your warning.”

  The Mage shook his head. “Thank…you,” he repeated, the words sounding almost rusty as they came out, an intentness again showing in his eyes. “Thank you,” he repeated in a murmur to himself, a hint of understanding appearing in his voice. “I…remember. Asha.”

  “Asha?”

  “Long ago. I do not remember what to say.” He gave her a look in which no feeling could be seen. “What do I say?”

  “Um…you say…you’re welcome,” Mari replied, feeling oddly anguished by the Mage’s reactions.

  “Yes.” He inclined his head toward her. “You…are…welcome, Master Mechanic Mari.”

  Mari averted her eyes, not wanting him to see her feelings, and wondering who he might once have been before the Mages got their hands on him. But now he was a Mage, too, and there was nothing she could do about that. “Um…let’s go, just in case those bandits are still tracking us. We’ve rested as long as we should.”

  The rocks on the heights kept slipping under her feet, the sun beat down mercilessly, their path seemed to always lead either up a steep slope or down a steeper slope, and her pack felt as though it weighed more with every step.

  The dryness in her throat had become a constant source of distress. But she kept moving, trying to pick a path that kept a screen of rocks or ridges between them and where the bandits might still be climbing up. A small ravine opened before them, leading down and back toward the site of the attack on the caravan, so Mari eased carefully down the walls of the gap and followed it until it ended in a sheer wall. Muttering curses, she climbed, her pack seeming to be trying to pull her down with evil intent.

  It almost succeeded, as a handhold crumbled and Mari began sliding downward past the Mage, who simply watched her falling. “Help!” Mari got out as she slid past. The Mage just stared again for a long, heart-stopping moment, then at the last possible instant shot out an arm to lock his hand on her wrist.

  She could swear he looked remorseful for an instant, then the Mage mask was back in place. He waited until she had a good grip on the stone again, then let go of her wrist as quickly as if the touch burned.

  Mari didn’t know what to think of this boy. Part of her felt sorry for him, part was grateful for his aid, but part of her remained worried and suspicious. Why can’t he show what he’s feeling? Does he really feel anything? Why didn’t he help me right away? How could he have known anything about my contract in Ringhmon? “Thanks.”

  “You…are…welcome.” The Mage had a far off look in his eyes. “Help,” he whispered to himself, as if trying to remember what the word meant.

  The afternoon wore on as they labored over the heights back toward where the front of the caravan had been, the sun slowly sinking in a red haze born of the fine dust thrown up by the battle, dust which would take hours yet to settle. Mari finally made her way along a narrow rift that gave out on a rock screened ledge.

  From here they could look down into the pass and see the wreckage of the caravan spread out beneath them. Mari couldn’t help wondering if some of the bandits had used this spot as a firing position earlier in the day. If they had, they hadn’t left any brass lying around from bullets that had been fired, but even bandits would want the discount on reloads offered by the Mechanics Guild. The sun had sunk far enough that the entire pass was now in shade, providing a small measure of relief from the heat that had been plaguing them. Groups of figures in the robes of desert dwellers could be seen moving around the pass, gathering up swords and crossbows and ransacking wagons but apparently not taking much from them.

  “What are they doing?” Mari whispered.

  The Mage studied the scene for a while. “They are trying to create the illusion that the caravan was looted without actually looting it. See, they’re setting fire to that wagon after pulling out the goods within, but the goods are so close they will also burn.”

  Mari slid down behind a rock and tried not to think about water. Her shirt under her jacket was soaked with sweat, but she was determined not to remove that jacket. It was a symbol of who she was, of all she had done to earn her status, and it also felt like protection, even though the leather wouldn’t stop much. Protection against bandits, and protection against this strange boy even though he had shown no signs of threatening her. “We’ll have to wait until dark to have any chance of getting down there without being detected.”

  “Can you conceal yourself?” the Mage asked.

  “What?”

  “Can you conceal yourself?” the Mage repeated. “Use a spell to make yourself hard to see?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Mari said. But the Mage appeared to be perfectly serious. “No. I’ve got dark clothes on. That’s as good as it gets.”

  “Then I should go alone. I can hide my presence, though with effort, and have a better chance of succeeding.”

  Mari regarded him. She was less concerned about being spotted than she was about physically collapsing during a climb down from here. That would make so much noise the bandits would hear it for certain. But if she stayed up here, the Mage would have a free hand down there. “How can I trust you, Mage Alain?” she said bluntly.

  The Mage stared outward. “I would not expect you to take the word of a Mage.”

  The word of a Mage. She had heard that phrase often. Mechanics, and common folk, used it to mean something totally worthless.

  “I cannot think of any assurance I could offer you,” Mage Alain added.

  “You’re telling me there’s nothing that could make me trust you?” Mari asked.

  “No, I am saying that there is nothing I could say that could make you trust me.”

  She got it, then. He was telling her to judge him by his actions. But even those actions could have been driven by a desire to survive rather than good will toward her, which would make betraying her an easy thing for the Mage to contemplate. “I need to hear some words, anyway. Just give me one reason to trust you.”

  The Mage gazed back without visible emotion. “I want to…help.” He said the word again as if it were an unfamiliar thing, and she remembered his hesitation when she had been falling earlier, as if he were unsure what “help” meant.

  Mari nodded, trying not to show the wave of pity that hit her. “All right, I can understand wanting to help someone. But why do you want to help me? Our Guilds have been enemies for their entire histories, as far as I know.”

  “I do not understand it myself.” The young Mage looked down. “You saved my life. When I was ready to stand at the wagon and die because I could not think of anything else to do, you made me come with you. If you had not led us up the side of the pass I would have passed from this dream into the next already.”

  Her memories of those moments were obscured behind veils of fear, but Mari remembered the Mage seeming lost and indecisive, having to be ordered to follow her. “I thought you said dying didn’t matter. That everything is an illusion. Why do you care about living now?”

  The Mage almost frowned as he pondered the question. She was sure of it, even though the expression barely appeared. Finally he looked back at her. “There are many illusions I have not yet seen.”

  Though delivered without apparent emotion, the open humanity of the statement won her over. “All right. I’ll trust you.” That will make a nice saying to engrave on my tombstone: She trusted a Mage. But it’s that or just give up.

  Between the lingering heat, her thirst, and exhaustion, Mari found herself drifting in and out of consciousness as they waited for it to get fully dark and the movements of the bandits to subside. At one point she saw her best friend Alli sitting nearby, fiddling with the broken rifle that Mari had left on the ledge with the dead bandits. She didn’t seem to have changed in the two years since Mari had last seen her, aside from the fact that Alli was now wearing a Mechanics jacket like Mari’s. What are you doing here? Mari silently asked Alli.

  Fixing this rifle. You need it, right?

  Yeah. If anyone can fix it, you can. You always loved weapons, Alli.

  Weapons are way safer than boys, Mari. What are you doing here with one?

  He’s not a boy. He’s a Mage.

  He’s a boy Mage, Mari. Why are you hanging out with him?

  I have no idea. It must make sense somehow. Why didn’t you write me more than a couple of times after I left the Mechanics Guild Hall in Caer Lyn? Why didn’t you answer my letters?

  But Alli didn’t answer and when Mari roused herself enough to focus, she was gone.

  Most of the bandits rode out just before sunset, many back to the east along the track the caravan had taken but some to the west toward Ringhmon. The pass, already murky with shadow, grew rapidly darker as the sun fell below the horizon.

  “I will go now.” Mage Alain’s voice was cracked with dryness that sounded as bad as that which tormented Mari, but he moved surely as he crawled over the rock barrier and began heading downward.

  Mari hitched herself up far enough to watch him for a while. She had been right in guessing that he was physically tough. Even after the exertions of the day and the lack of water, Mage Alain didn’t seem weak now.

  He also wasn’t particularly hard to see in his Mage robes, even in the gathering darkness, but as the Mage reached the floor of the pass he vanished. She blinked, wondering if fatigue was affecting her eyesight, then slumped back down, half-delirious with thirst and hoping she had done the right thing by trusting the Mage.

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