The Dragons of Dorcastle (11 page)

Mari searched the crowd around the caravansary, hoping to find a representative of the Mechanics Guild Hall of Ringhmon awaiting her. She saw no one, though. She had not had any privacy once they got close to Ringhmon and so had not been able to call ahead using her far talker. Still, she was overdue. Why hadn’t the Guild Hall tried to call her? Why hadn’t they posted anyone here, even an apprentice, to watch incoming travelers and demand any news of the late caravan?

The group of traders clattered to a halt and Mari dismounted, wincing as her muscles protested. Her horse had been docile enough, but days of riding had left Mari wondering if her thighs would ever stop aching.
Give me a seat in a locomotive any day.

She glanced across the caravansary and her eyes met those of the Mage. What was he thinking now? No telling. Not her problem, she told herself. But he had saved her life, and even helped her dismount the first morning as if he had known how important it was to her dignity not to fall, so Mari wished him well. She gave the Mage a brief nod, then turned away.

She took leave of the head of the traders, getting his name so that she could arrange payment for him, and received in return directions to the Mechanics Guild Hall. Hoisting her pack into a slightly more comfortable position, she started walking, her Mechanics jacket earning her easy progress through the streets. Citizens of Ringhmon stepped aside to give her room, eyeing Mari nervously and bowing as she passed, radiating resentment yet also acting more servile than commons usually did even in the Empire.

The buildings around her appeared grand enough, if you didn’t look too closely beyond the façades. Mari’s engineering specialty wasn’t architecture or construction, but she knew enough of both fields to judge the buildings around her. All of them boasted features intended to make them look grander, such as dozens of roof angles on a single structure, but the work was shoddy, with cracks and sagging easily visible. Mari wondered why the local Guild Hall hadn’t contracted the design and building of some truly impressive structures. That would have cost Ringhmon more money than these false fronts, though, and that might be all the answer she needed.

The crowds got thicker, so Mari set her jaw and plowed through them, the commons hastily clearing the way and keeping their grumbling just low enough that she couldn’t decipher it. She was used to that. Imperial citizens were particularly good at acting respectfully to the face of the Mechanics, who dictated even to the Emperor. But a quick enough turn would reveal the citizens at your back showing their true feelings.

Mari kept her face impassive so no trace of her own unhappiness could be seen. Mechanics were superior, they could fix and design and build things that the commons couldn’t. They used that power to dominate the commons everywhere. The commons helped, naturally. Whenever one group tried to rise up, another group could always be found willing to fight against them in exchange for some brief advantage. Hand out fifty rifles or so and enough ammunition, let the commons kill each other, and the Mechanics Guild remained in control. Since the Mechanics Guild liked that arrangement, it did everything it could to make sure nothing changed.

Century after century, the world kept unchanging.

If you were a Mechanic, if you were a cynic, if you liked that power, it was a great system.

Sweating in the heat, Mari paused at the top of a hill to catch her breath and gazed backwards to see the view. The afternoon was well along, the sun sinking toward a dust-hazed horizon that brought out a glory of red hues in the sky. Under that display, the “great” city of Ringhmon didn’t look quite as seedy. Far off, Mari could just make out the shape of a Mechanic locomotive belching smoke as it pulled into the city, coming from the west along the ancient rail line running to the Bakre Confederation. For a moment she wished she was on that locomotive, that she had never gone to the Guild academy but had just become a regular Mechanic on steam powered equipment. That she never noticed the looks on the faces of the commons when they didn’t think a Mechanic could see them. That she didn’t question the way things were and had always been.

That would have meant giving up, though, settling for less than her heart told her she should aim for.

Turning to continue on toward the Guild Hall, Mari froze in her tracks. A small group of riders wearing frighteningly familiar garments was riding up the street, their horses and clothes coated with dust. One of the riders carried a repeating rifle. Another was in the act of turning to look her way.

Her heart pounding, Mari spun on one heel and dodged into the nearest shop. A few citizens of Ringhmon browsing among the racks of clothing pretended to be engrossed in their shopping as the owner came bustling up and bowed. “How may I help you, honored Lady Mechanic?”

Mari calmed herself before answering. “I just came in for a moment to get out of the sun.”

The owner backed away, head down to hide his expression. Mari turned and gazed out the small front window of the shop, searching for the bandits in the crowded street. Seeing nothing, she reached under her jacket toward her pistol, then cautiously edged to the door again.

The street held no sign of dusty riders now. Mari scowled around her while the passing commons tried to ignore a plainly unhappy Mechanic. Turning, Mari walked back into the shop. “Do you have a private room in the back?” she demanded as the owner hastened up again.

“Yes, Lady Mechanic.”

“I need it.”

A few moments later, Mari shut the door firmly, then went to stand near the small window of the back room and dug into her pack until she surfaced with the far-talker. She eyed the large, heavy thing, thinking of how many times she had fantasized about dumping it in the desert in order to lighten her pack. But Mechanics didn’t dump equipment. It just didn’t happen. Especially not something as important as a far-talker.

She flicked a switch to power it up, extended the antenna, and held it near the window. “Mechanics Guild Hall of Ringhmon, this is Master Mechanic Mari of Caer Lyn. I have arrived in the city.” She released the button and waited.

And waited. Muttering angrily, she broadcast her message again.

The third time she called a reply finally came, weak and laden with static. “This is Senior Mechanic Stimon, Guild Hall Supervisor in Ringhmon. You are late arriving in this city.”

Mari stared at the speaker of her far-talker. Since when did Senior Mechanics monitor incoming calls to Guild Halls? And not just any Senior Mechanic, but the one in charge of the entire Guild Hall. Answering far-talker calls was a job for an apprentice. “The caravan bringing me to Ringhmon was attacked by bandits and destroyed,” she said. “I barely made it to the city alive.”

Stimon’s response took a moment longer than it should have, then held no sympathy. “Bandits? Enough to overcome the guards of a caravan? I hope you are prepared to provide a detailed report.”

A detailed report? That was his reaction to the news? “Yes. I can provide a detailed report,” Mari said, trying to keep her voice level. “Especially since I just saw some of the bandits inside the city. I need an escort to the Guild Hall. An armed escort.”

“An armed escort? You’re safe in Ringhmon now.”

“I don’t think so. The bandits knew I was with the caravan and were after me. They were armed with at least two dozen rifles. Do you copy that? Two dozen rifles.”

Stimon’s reply once again took a little longer than it should. “You’re certain of that?”

“There’s no other way to explain the number of bullets fired. I personally saw one rifle in the hands of a dead bandit, but was unable to recover it. I also saw a rifle being carried by the bandits just now.”

“How did these bandits know you were in the caravan when your presence was supposed to be a secret?” Stimon’s voice sounded accusing now.

Mari glared at the far-talker as if it were Stimon himself. “I have no idea how they knew. The Guild Hall here arranged my contract. At the moment, I’m more concerned about my own safety.”

“Mechanic Mari, there’s no reason to think you are unsafe in Ringhmon. There is no need for an escort.”

Mari had to pause to count to five before speaking so that her voice wouldn’t sound too upset. “That’s Master Mechanic Mari,” she corrected him, “and I repeat that I just saw some of the bandits in the city.”

“Master Mechanic Mari,” Stimon repeated, somehow giving the title a very subtle and mocking twist. “I’m sure you are mistaken.”

“Senior Mechanic Stimon, perhaps I didn’t make clear that the caravan was wiped out except for myself and one other person!” She tried to put a lid on her temper, not wanting to fly off the handle and give anyone grounds for questioning her professionalism. “We barely survived.”

After a long pause, Stimon’s voice came back on, so little emotion apparent in it that for a moment it reminded her of the Mage. “A Mechanic shouldn’t be so easily frightened by the sight of a few commons. It seems you lack the experience for dealing with routine situations.”

Experience. She had already figured out that was the Senior Mechanic code word for “age.” “Fine,” Mari replied in as icy a voice as she could manage. “I will walk the rest of the way to the Mechanics Guild Hall and I will provide a full report of this to Guild Headquarters. I’m sure
they
will be concerned at a threat to a Mechanic from commons, as well as by a lack of concern for the safety of Guild members.”

Stimon didn’t seem fazed by Mari’s reply. “Good. You were expected two days ago. Report to me as soon as you arrive at the Guild Hall.”

Mari didn’t trust herself to say anything in response to that last.She shut off power to the far-talker, taking a few moments to stew in anger.
I’ve earned my status as a Master Mechanic, and that means I’ve earned the right to expect respect from Senior Mechanics. Just because they run the Guild and handle all of the administrative tasks doesn’t mean they can treat a working Mechanic like this.

Does he
want
me to get killed?

That thought was so outrageous that it at least cooled her temper a bit. The smart thing to do now would be to find a spot to lie low until dark, then sneak into the Guild Hall. But there was no way she would give Stimon the satisfaction of being able to talk about the frightened little girl who thought she was a Master Mechanic. Checking her pistol again, Mari stuck her far-talker back into her pack, set the pack on her shoulders, and strode out of the back room.

The owner stood to one side, watching her with worried eyes.

“Thanks for the use of the room,” Mari said, trying not to let her anger at Stimon color her words to the owner.

The owner didn’t reply, only bowing in farewell as Mari left the shop.

Once outside, where danger could be anywhere, Mari felt her mood darken again. The unusually rapid way commons shrank away as she stalked down the street told her just how ominous her expression must be. She searched the streets for any more signs of the bandits, on or off their horses, almost wishing some would show up so she could have a nice, noisy gunfight with them in the middle of the city. That would show Stimon. But no more of the dusty riders appeared.

The Mechanics Guild Hall sat near one edge of the city and had been here as long as Ringhmon, just like Mechanics Guild Halls in many other places. The aqueduct carrying water to Ringhmon from the mountains to the north ran right through the Guild Hall before continuing on toward the center of Ringhmon. Commons thought this reflected some Mechanic conspiracy to control the water supply. Mari and other Mechanics knew the water actually ran through hydroelectric generators inside the Guild Hall, which powered not only the hall itself but Mechanic workshops and those common places in Ringhmon willing to pay for the wires and electricity.

Of course, that arrangement gave the Mechanics control over the city power supply as well as its water supply.

The sun was setting by the time Mari reached the large open area fronting on the fortresslike Guild Hall, her temper not mollified by the long walk in the heat of Ringhmon. She almost stomped across the plaza, then up the broad stairs to the heavy doors.

An apprentice was on duty at the entrance, studying a text as most apprentices did when they weren’t dealing with visitors, so he didn’t see her until she was up close. Then his eyes went directly to her face and he grinned. “Hey, princess. What’s the matter?”

Mari stopped dead, her momentary outrage subsiding as she realized the apprentice had automatically assumed someone her age had to be another apprentice.

An instant later the apprentice’s face reflected horror as his eyes dropped slightly and he realized she was wearing a full Mechanic’s jacket. “L-lady Mechanic. Forgive me. I—I didn’t—”

“Obviously,” Mari agreed. The apprentice’s natural mistake and quaking fear helped draw off her anger. “I’m Master Mechanic Mari of—”

“M master Mechanic?” The apprentice stared at her helplessly. “Lady, please, I didn’t know.”

His fear was so real that Mari stared back at him. “Yes. You didn’t know. Now you do know. Relax.”

The apprentice stayed pale, bowing his head toward her. “I beg your forgiveness, Lady Master Mechanic.”

Mari gazed back, feeling her aggravation evaporate as concern rose for the apprentice and his fellows in Ringhmon. If Senior Mechanic Stimon had been so unpleasant to her, what must apprentices in this Guild Hall endure? Any apprentice anywhere was subject to harassment from full Mechanics, but Mari had heard that some Guild Halls were worse than others. “Apprentice,” she said firmly. “You are forgiven. Understand? No further apology is necessary.”

He raised his head to stare at her again, then nodded. “Yes, Lady. Thank you. I’ll report this incident to my shift leader so he can—”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind! I’ve accepted your apology and that’s all there is to it. It’s now forgotten.”

The apprentice blinked in surprise. “But, Lady—”

“That’s an order from a Master Mechanic. All right?”

“Yes, Lady. You have my thanks.” The apprentice sounded almost breathless with relief. “If I’d known you were coming—”