By midnight, almost all of the sailors had packed themselves off to sleep. A trickle of foot traffic still existed as party-goers wandered back in twos and threes. “Do sailors ever sleep?” Mari grumbled.
“It is growing quiet,” Alain reassured her. “We can move soon.” He had noticed that the Mechanic was much more impatient than the Mages he was used to associating with. Apparently she felt time pass in a different way, speaking of short periods as if they held great importance and must be measured exactly. Alain had refrained from asking Mari about that tonight, however, as she had seemed very irritable on the subject of how much time had gone by while they watched the sailors.
He felt a lingering urgency himself from the vision of the oncoming storm. Was that what drove Mari as well? The same sense that danger loomed and must be dealt with?
Seeking some subject to distract her, he looked upward, seeing the tapestry of the stars standing out brilliantly against the black of night. “You do not believe that Mechanics came from the stars, as your Guild claims?”
She gave him a cross look, then took on a more companionable expression with an obvious effort. “Didn’t we talk about that once? Officially, yes, we’re the superior beings from the stars. I personally think it was just made up to make the Guild seem more powerful or mysterious or whatever. Aside from our skills, we seem to be just like everyone else.”
“Do you know of any other group who believes they came from the stars?”
“No.” Mari’s expression changed to curiosity. “Why are you asking? I mean, that would just be a ridiculous myth.”
“Perhaps.” Alain gestured upward. “There is an oddity in history. You asked me of the last few centuries when we talked of Tiae and other events, but before that we know of the oldest cities, places like Landfall the Ancient, Larharbor, and Altis, which were of course much smaller when they started. And we know when people left those cities to found new ones. But nowhere does it say where the people of the oldest cities came from.”
“They came from…” Mari waved a hand vaguely. “Around those places.”
“There are no older towns, no settlements, no ruins. Only the oldest cities. I checked on that when I went through Landfall. There are no signs of any human presence older than the city itself, and the oldest portions of the city show planning. It was not the haphazard growth which happens when no authority is ordering events.”
She gave him a perplexed look. “Really? That’s sort of strange. How could a city full of people just show up from nowhere? It makes me wonder if maybe the Western Continent really exists and they came from there. But if there is such a place, and people were there, why haven’t they kept coming?”
“Or perhaps they came from the stars?”
“I’d need some proof of that.” Mari shook her head. “I’m not sure what difference it would make, anyway. Say we did come from the stars. Why would that matter now?”
Alain considered that. “I do not know. I have a feeling that it is somehow important, but cannot say why. At the least it would mean that, somewhere among those stars we see, there are others looking up at us as we look upon them.”
She stared upward. “That’s sort of wild to think about. Do you know that you can be almost poetic at times, Alain? But there’s the same problem as I mentioned before. If we came here from the stars, why hasn’t anyone else come here from there?”
“It could be the journey is too long or too difficult.”
“That I can believe. How far away are the stars, anyway? The Guild discourages any actual study of the heavens.” Mari gave him a sharp look. “I wonder what’s up there that I’m not supposed to see? I can’t believe it matters, but if it doesn’t, why doesn’t the Guild want people studying the stars? I know someone who wanted to build a far-seer that would let them view the moon better.” Calu, enthusiastic as he outlined the design for a scaled-up version of what Mechanics used to see longer distances on land and sea. Calu, abashed as Senior Mechanics tongue-lashed him for improper experimentation and wasted effort. “He wasn’t allowed.”
She dropped her gaze back to the rows of barges alongside the piers, then stood up and stretched, stiff from the long wait. “We’ll have to leave questions about the origin of everything for another time. It’s as quiet as it’ll get. Let’s go for a walk.”
“All right.” Alain saw the smile that she turned on him as he used her phrase. He had guessed that Mari might be pleased to have him say it. How strange it felt to correctly anticipate the emotional reaction of another.
He stretched out his muscles as well, then followed her down the fire stairs on one side of the building. Once they reached the ground, he had to speed up to walk beside her, as Mari started off at a rapid pace. She might complain of others looking to her for direction, but Mari had a habit of taking the lead. “We might want to walk slower so we do not seem so obvious,” Alain suggested. Everyone else they had seen in the area for a while had been ambling along as if they had no need to be anywhere soon.
Mari grumbled something under her breath, but slowed her walking. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
“Thank you for listening to me,” Alain said.
She gave him a startled look. “That’s right. Your elders don’t listen to you, either. I’m so grateful that you listen to me that I forget how important it is for me to listen to you.”
“Even when you forget, you listen,” Alain said. “That is important to me.”
Mari mumbled something, looking embarrassed, then made an obvious effort of focusing back on the barges.
“What are we looking for?” he asked. “Just a barge? There are many.”
She took a moment to answer as she thought it through. “We want a low-riding barge. You can see most of these are riding high because they’ve offloaded their cargo. But the one we want would still have a lot of heavy stuff aboard.” Mari hesitated. “I’m not sure what else. When we see any low-riding barges, we’ll take a closer look and maybe spot something else.”
They started down the piers in turn, moving quietly past barge after barge, the only sounds the creaking of wood and the gentle lapping of the inner harbor’s waters, punctuated by an occasional snore from aboard one of the barges. The barges varied a bit in size, and were painted different colors which were hard to distinguish in the darkness, but otherwise were distressingly the same.
After going down two piers and seeing nothing, Mari stopped and looked angry. “This is going to take all night.”
Alain, agreeing with her, scanned the inner harbor. He paused as he got a glimpse of shadows moving between the barges two piers down from where they were.
“What is it? Do you see something?” Mari asked.
“Wait.” He watched carefully, finally rewarded by another sight of a dark shape moving along the water. “A barge is underway, but it is headed toward the warehouses, not the harbor.”
Mari craned her neck to see, then beckoned to Alain. “Come on. There’s no good reason a barge should be moving at this hour. Maybe that’s who we’re looking for.”
It was not easy to move quickly along the piers without making noise, but they managed it, reaching the end just in time to see a barge riding low in the water ease inside the broad, open doors of a warehouse that like some others extended out over the water and contained an enclosed dock. As soon as the barge’s stern cleared the doors, they were silently swung shut.
“That’s it,” Mari breathed. “It’s got to be.” She starting walking at a fast pace toward the warehouse, Alain following despite his doubts about the wisdom of so openly approaching a possible enemy position.
Reaching the large building, which was partly made of wood and partly of masonry, Mari kept going until she found a small side door giving access to the inside. “Locked. Like that’s a problem.” She pulled out something from one of her jacket pockets.
“Mari,” Alain said in a low voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pick this lock, then I�
“But there are those inside. Those crewing the barge and those who operated the doors, at least. Possibly more.”
“Yeah.” She had brought out one of her tools and was applying it to the lock. “So?”
Alain tried not to stare at Mari, who was patiently working away at the lock. “There may be more enemies inside that warehouse than we can deal with,” he explained.
“I don’t hear a crowd in there,” Mari replied, her voice stubborn.
“They could be quiet.”
“We’ll be quiet, too.”
“Wait,” Alain said. “Mari, this is not wise. I was told to evaluate a foe before attacking. We have no idea how many we could be facing, what weapons they might have— ”
“We have to have better evidence if we’re to convince anyone that the barge and this warehouse are involved with the so called dragon attacks!” Mari insisted. “We need proof. We need proof that no one can deny. Everybody keeps telling me that I don’t know what I’m doing and refuses to listen to me! What’s in here can change that. We need to know what it is.”
“This could be very dangerous,” Alain said.
She paused, eyeing him. “How dangerous? Is that a guess? Or your, um, foresight?”
Alain hesitated. The temptation to say whatever he wanted to say was strong. And, after all, his misgivings might be the result of his foresight. But he knew that was not the case, and Alain knew he did not want to lie to Mari even if truth did not exist. “It is a guess. My assessment.”
“Alain, I respect that,” Mari said. “I do. But my guess is that we need to check this out and we need to do it now. I got attacked again today, so I do feel a little urgency to learn exactly what I’m dealing with here.”
“Mari…” What was the right word to use? When it was not a command but a request? Mages never used such words. But Alain remembered being in the dungeon in Ringhmon, recalled Mari asking for his help in getting her tools. She had used the word. “We should go carefully. Please.”
“You said please?” She looked at him, then away. “What did that take? Are you really feeling that much concern about this?”
“Yes. For you.”
“That is so not fair.” Mari ran both hands through her hair, looking down. “Alain, I’m not planning on charging into there and making noise and everything. I want to scout it out. Carefully. Just like you said. Maybe I’ve been rushing things a little just now because success is so close. I can feel it. But I will be careful in there. You’re feeling emotions and they may be a bit overwhelming. I am flattered that you’re worried about me. But this is important. Don’t we need to know who is after me and why?”
“Yes,” Alain agreed.
“Whatever is in there is very likely to be the kind of evidence, the kind of proof, that no one can pretend not to see, or stuff into a drawer and forget about. This isn’t just about me.” Mari paused, her expression shifting to distress. “I’ve learned that things are being ignored. Very important things. If my Guild doesn’t start dealing with those things, doesn’t start admitting some problems exist, then…then this world will be like a boiler with too much pressure inside. Sooner or later, it will explode.”
He looked down at where Mari crouched next to the lock. “As Tiae has?”
“Yes. Like we talked about earlier. Like Tiae. Or like those animals in the pen.” She pointed to the door. “But if I can get strong enough proof, it might be enough to change things, to start changing things here. I just want to fix what is broken. That’s what a Mechanic should do. Will you help me, Alain?”
As he listened to Mari’s earnest words, Alain thought of the storm in his vision sweeping down upon the second sun in the sky. What happened now would either help Mari fight that storm, or perhaps put an end to the future only she could bring. What happened now could perhaps doom the world illusion to the eventual fate of Tiae and worse.
It did not matter, his Mage training told him. The world illusion did not matter. What mattered to him was the young woman who knelt by the door, the shadow who called herself Mari. A shadow the storm would utterly destroy to prevent her from bringing the new day of hope to this world.
The elder had said that his choices mattered, and now he understood just how much that was so. Part of him wanted to stop Mari, to try to keep her safe no matter what, but that would be selfish, an act like that of the Mage elders who clung to power. Mari would insist on trying to help others no matter what Alain did. He understood her well enough already to know that.
Alain remembered the graves of his parents and thought of countless other parents dying if that storm swept this world, countless children dying as well or left unprotected, while the Mage Guild and the Mechanics Guild fortified their Halls and held out as long as possible against the bedlam that the world had become before they, too, fell. How much time was left before that storm struck?
He knew that no matter what his training told him, he would not allow such a thing to happen if he could help prevent it. And the only way he could help prevent it was by helping the daughter of the prophecy, no matter how much he feared for her safety. “I will help you,” Alain told Mari. “Not just because it is you who ask, but because you seek to do the right thing.”
She smiled in a way he had not seen before. “You know what the right thing means, now?”
“Yes. I will help you do the right thing. But do not forget that there are limits to my powers,” Alain added.
“I know. All you can do is walk through walls and bend light and stuff,” Mari replied in her sarcasm voice, still smiling at him. “Listen,” she said, earnest again, “I’ve been thinking. We survived the attack on the caravan. That took both of us, working together. Then we got out of the city hall in Ringhmon together. Separately, we couldn’t have done that. But together our skills add up to something more than just a sum. I really think that. Because Mages and Mechanics don’t work together, do they? Never. Something designed to handle a Mage isn’t very good at handling a Mechanic, and something a Mechanic can't handle a Mage can . You and I work together, so we can handle anything that comes up.”
He nodded to her. “Yes. Mages and Mechanics working together. You have already done this.”
“We’ve both done it.” Mari grinned and pumped her fist in triumph at Alain’s agreement. Turning back to the lock, she worked again for a few moments until a soft click announced her success. Before opening the door, Mari knelt by her bag, putting on the holster which held her weapon, then her Mechanics jacket over that. “Do you want to get into Mage gear?”
“My robes? No. If we are seen, if they do not already know who you are, it will be better if no one knows a Mage and a Mechanic are side by side.”
“Good point.” Taking the weapon in one hand and leaving her empty bag on the ground, Mari eased the door open slowly, sliding in as soon as the gap was large enough.
Alain slipped in behind Mari, who carefully closed the door behind them. They were in a narrow open lane running next to the wall, facing a tall barrier of wooden crates in various states of dilapidation. Mari listened intently, then gestured to Alain, leading him to the right.
The crates proved to be stacked into walls two crates deep, with passageways of varying widths running between them in a mazelike arrangement. The height of the crate stacks also varied but was generally well above their heads, blocking off sight. Higher up, the flickering light of oil lamps reflected off of a lofty ceiling. Alain could hear voices and the occasional sounds of large objects being moved. Mari, using those noises to orient herself, cautiously led the way through the maze.
They were close to the sounds when Mari paused and went to one knee, examining something resting on a crate. The object was metal and looked to Alain like a Mechanic device. “No makers’ marks,” she whispered. “No workshop codes. My Guild didn’t construct this.”
“Then you have found what you sought?”
“A small part of it,” Mari said.
She headed closer to the sounds while Alain looked around, seeking any trace of warning from his foresight or other senses.
Finally they reached what must be the last wall of crates. Mari pointed upward, and they carefully climbed the wooden crates, trying not to make a sound. Reaching the top, Alain crawled with Mari along the top of the crates until they could see the rest of the warehouse.
A large area opened up ahead, leading to a dock with a small wooden pier to which a barge was tied up., The big warehouse doors leading out to the open water were still sealed. On the opposite side of the open area was what must be the main door of the warehouse, providing access to one of the roads on the landward side. Within the open area and on the barge, a group of commons, men and women, were working. The sides of the structure on top of the barge had been taken down so that what was within it could be seen.
Mari pointed to one object after another, murmuring just loudly enough for Alain to hear. “Steam boiler. Collapsible funnel for the steam boiler, so they could raise it when needed and lower it the rest of the time and no one could see it. Winches powered by the steam. I wonder if it also ties in to a propulsion screw beneath the barge? That would really help them move around. What do you think?”
“I think I have understood about one word in five of what you are saying,” Alain replied.
She grinned, then pointed again. “See those iron-tipped timbers? Braces. That’s what made those marks on the cliff face and provided stand-off so the barge didn’t get caught in the collapse of the rail trestle. And look at those. Hooks shaped like really big claws on the end of the cables that the winches pull in. We’ve found our dragons, Alain. Those people down there are working on it, but they’re not wearing Mechanics Guild jackets. We’ve found our Dark Mechanics.” She pointed to one side, where a big man stood. “Doesn’t he look familiar?”
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