The Wrath of the Great Guilds (The Pillars of Reality Book 6)

by Jack Campbell

  “That will happen, but the citizens of the Empire may be hard to convince. If you had stayed dead it would have been easier to persuade them that Mari and Mara were not the same, but I understand why you and your Mage did not wish to have that happen.”

  “I didn’t die,” Mari said. Alain had noticed that she always said that when the subject came up. He did not know for certain that she was wrong, so he never contradicted her. Although he would not have contradicted her on that matter even if he had known she was wrong.

  Camber showed little reaction, but to Alain’s eyes appeared unconvinced by Mari’s denial.

  Mari laid the document she held on the table between her and Camber. “As I started to say, the second personal item is related to Marandur. I would like the Emperor to view this petition from some of his subjects.”

  The Imperial representative did not pick it up, instead giving Mari a curious look. “Why would subjects of the Emperor have to send a petition through you?”

  “Because the petition is from the inhabitants of the Imperial University of Marandur.”

  Camber was surprised enough to show it, staring at the document. “The university still exists? How is that possible?”

  “The masters of the university, who are the descendents of the original masters, told us the rebels didn’t occupy it during the siege,” Mari explained. “They had no idea why it was spared, but it meant the university wasn’t damaged much during the battle. Because the university had a smaller wall around it, they have been able to hold out all this time, though with great difficulty.”

  Reaching out, Camber tapped the petition with his forefinger. “Why did the university’s inhabitants not leave when ordered to by Emperor Palan?”

  “Their oaths obligated them to remain at the university,” Mari said. “They honestly thought they weren’t supposed to leave, until it was too late.”

  Camber sat looking at the petition, his feelings guarded so well that Alain could not guess at them. He began to suspect something about the Imperial, but decided not to bring it up yet.

  Finally, Camber spoke again. “This is a difficult matter. You surely know one reason why. Anyone inside the city is officially dead, and the Emperor cannot consider petitions from the dead. There is also the hard fact that the ban on entering or leaving Marandur has been ironclad since the reign of Emperor Palan. Making any exception to it now might signal weakness at a time when only strength must be shown. There are already many changes taking place. To add this…”

  “Loyalty is important to the Emperor,” Alain said.

  “It is,” Camber agreed.

  Alain indicated the petition. “The inhabitants of the university have renewed their oaths of loyalty to whoever was the reigning Emperor or Empress every year since Marandur was sealed off from the outside world, even though they did not know who that person was. Their loyalty has never wavered, even as decades passed, as their numbers dwindled from hardship, as any hope of a change to their situation faded. They have remained steadfast through all that, with no hope or expectation of reward. It is a very powerful example of selfless loyalty.”

  Camber eyed Alain narrowly, then nodded once again. “A very powerful example. Such loyalty through adversity long sustained is too rarely seen.”

  “The Emperor,” Alain said, “can grant relief to those loyal subjects, now that he has learned of their need, proving that nothing is more important to him than the welfare of his people. And that loyalty is always eventually rewarded.”

  The small smile was back on Camber’s lips as he looked at Alain. “I see that reports of your wisdom have not been exaggerated. Are there any other benefits that you could foresee if the Emperor took this action?”

  “Yes,” Alain said, pleased that he had spotted Camber’s suppressed surprise at the answer. “Marandur is a terrible monument to the cost of war. Why keep it sealed? Those who advocate war should see the city. Those who doubt what the Empire will do to those who attack it should see Marandur.”

  “Open the city to visitors?” Camber smiled openly. “Wisdom indeed. I have viewed the ruins from the guard towers. That was close enough for me. Others, from within the Empire and from the West, might benefit from walking the haunted streets of Marandur.”

  “They’re not exactly easy to walk,” Mari said.

  “How bad is it inside the city?” Camber asked.

  “Very, very bad.”

  “Unsettling, even to one whose emotions are strongly controlled,” Alain added.

  Camber finally picked up the petition, reading it. “You brought this with you from there, through those streets, through every danger?”

  “Yes,” Mari said. “I promised them that I would try to get the Emperor to view their petition.”

  “Promises mean much to you.” Camber made it a statement, not a question. “I will tell you something which should not be shared with others. The Emperor is not a cruel man. He will do what is necessary, no matter how hard, but he takes no joy in needless suffering. Before our attention was focused on Marandur, it was assumed by the Imperial court that only a few scattered barbarians remained trapped within the city. No more than a handful. But as we investigated…your travels through Imperial territory…we discovered from the legion which has traditionally guarded the city that there may be larger numbers of people living in barbaric conditions inside Marandur. Not a large number, but more than we had thought. Hundreds, perhaps. Trapped within a dead city.

  “This caused the Emperor distress.” Camber looked from Mari to Alain as if expecting them to challenge that assertion. “But there seemed to be no means to help them that would not cause too many difficulties.” He held up the petition. “This offers a means. Not just for those in the university, but all inside the city.”

  “Are you serious?” Mari asked, smiling in disbelief. She looked at Alain for confirmation of Camber’s sincerity, and he nodded in reply.

  “Many of those barbarians might die fighting you,” Alain said. “But their children would have hope.”

  “Some in the bureaucracy might question the cost of rooting out all of the barbarians, but the alternative is maintaining the full quarantine, which is an expense that the Imperial government needs now less than ever.” Camber folded the petition neatly and slid it into a inner pocket of his dress coat. “This matter need not be part of any formal agreement. I give you my word that the Emperor will see this petition, and I believe that he will look upon it favorably.”

  “Thank you,” Mari said. “You will meet with representatives of the Bakre Confederation?”

  “Those who came with me will,” Camber said.

  Mari flicked a glance at Alain, in which he read her rueful agreement that Jane of Danalee had been right. Camber had come only to talk with her. “I have no doubt those representatives will approve of the three main issues we discussed, but they will want to discuss other matters.”

  Camber rubbed his forehead lightly. “I saw the state of the city. I cannot deny much of it lies in ruins because of the Empire’s actions. I know many of those defending the city died.”

  “You’ll consider reparations? If you can’t reach agreement I can help work things out.”

  “We will consider reparations within limits,” Camber said. “There are many, many families in the Empire who must also receive death payments for the fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, who will never return home. But the Empire will soon come into a very large extra source of money which should offer the means to fairly compensate all of those who deserve it.”

  Mari gave Camber an intent look. “A very large extra source of money? I thought you said the Emperor guaranteed protection for what’s left of the Mechanics Guild.”

  “He did. But the Emperor made no guarantees regarding the property of the Mechanics Guild.” Camber spread his hands slightly in a gesture of regret that was obviously insincere. “In their eagerness to gain sanctuary, the leaders of what remains of the Mechanics Guild apparently overlooked
that. We have strong reason to believe that the vaults in the Guild headquarters have substantial amounts of silver and gold which should be put to better use. And if the leaders of the Guild do not cooperate, we have, thanks to the daughter of Jules, learned of a means to get into those vaults with the help of Mages.”

  “That’s not all that’s in those vaults,” Mari said, her voice gaining force even though she did not speak louder. “You know, don’t you?”

  Camber nodded. “Copies of the same once-banned technology texts that you hold at Pacta Servanda.”

  “You know those texts, my copies, would have been made available to the Empire.”

  “Surely you understand,” Camber said, “why the Emperor would want to have control over the copies that exist inside his lands.”

  “I do understand,” Mari said. She spoke with great care. “It’s hard to explain everything that is in those texts. But if someone tries to rush building new devices, if someone skips over important stages or neglects warnings or doesn’t prepare properly, the information in those texts could cause a lot of damage. Maybe something as sudden as explosions, big explosions that could ravage a city, or something as long-lasting as rivers and land becoming poisoned. Some of the by-products—gases—can choke to death anyone who breathes them and could slay every living thing in a city. One of the things we are going to try to do in the West is to add new technology at a rate that doesn’t result in that kind of damage, and to pay careful attention to all the warnings and cautions in the texts about certain aspects of production and other issues.”

  Camber nodded again. “I have heard this from the messages you sent to the Emperor. I assure you that he takes your warnings seriously. We will have control of the Mechanics Guilds leaders. Do you question their competency to do the same as you will?”

  “Yes,” Mari said. “The leaders are administrators who got promoted to be bosses by saying yes to their bosses every time. Plus they’re not going to be happy with the Emperor because of their change in status. You can’t trust them.”

  “What about you?” Camber asked.

  “I hope you know that you can trust me.”

  “But in this matter. If the Emperor sends emissaries to you asking for your advice and arguments on aspects of the new technology, would you give him the same answers and appraisals that you give to those in the West?” Camber asked. “Not seeking to hold back the Empire in order to give advantage to the West?”

  “Yes, I will do that,” Mari said. “Because if the West gets too far ahead of the Empire, that would be a dangerously unstable situation. And if the Empire races ahead on something that ought to be done with careful deliberation, it might inspire some in the West to do the same, with possible big problems everywhere.”

  “It is in your self-interest to do it?” Camber gave her that small smile again. “Like you, Lady Mari, I prefer agreements based on such grounds. You will commit to that? If so, I will advise the Emperor to accept your offer.”

  “I will commit to it,” Mari said.

  Camber looked at Alain. “And you, Sir Master of Mages, will you share your wisdom? The Emperor is keenly interested in your accomplishments and wishes to know more of them for himself and for those Mages who remain in Imperial service.”

  Alain nodded once, purposely mimicking Camber. “I will share what I have with all who come.”

  “At what price?”

  “Wisdom has no price.”

  That very nearly got a laugh out of Camber. “Certainly those who sell it seem to have less wisdom the more they charge for it. Then this need not be negotiated or put into writing?”

  “You will not accept the word of a Mage?” Alain asked.

  Camber’s smile was wider. “You tell jokes?”

  “It is a skill that takes some time to relearn, does it not?” Alain asked him.

  The smile was replaced by a keen look. “You figured it out? No one else ever has.”

  “What did you figure out, Alain?” Mari asked.

  “Camber was once a Mage,” Alain explained, drawing a surprised look from Mari.

  “Yes,” Camber said. “Taken to be an acolyte, many years before you were, and forced to endure the training. I learned enough to be granted Mage status, though my spells were only small things because hidden within me was a desire to escape. When I was finally able to leave the Mage Guild Hall alone, I left for good, finding a place where I could hide and slowly regain the humanity driven from me by the Mage elders. I lost what few powers I had in the process. Eventually I was able to be among commons and even other Mages without them knowing who I had been. It was a secret, until now.”

  “I will not divulge it,” Alain said.

  “You kept your power,” Camber said. “I would not have brought this up if you had not seen it in me, but now I ask if we could speak. I have always wondered whether I could have retained some of those skills.”

  Alain inclined his head respectfully toward Camber. “This one would speak with you.”

  “Tomorrow? I will send a messenger when I can.” Camber stood up, extending his hand to Mari. “I wish that I had met you two before this war began. My advice to the Emperor would have been very different. Will you answer a question for me?”

  “What is it?” Mari asked, grasping Camber’s offered hand for a moment.

  “Since arriving in the city, I have learned that you were given an opportunity few ever have, and that you gave a response that perhaps no one ever has. You could have ruled all of these lands. But you said no. You rejected the chance to hold such power. Why?”

  Mari shrugged. “I didn’t think I was a good fit for the job, and frankly I didn’t think the job should exist.”

  “I cannot pass judgment on either of those things,” Camber said. “But you could have been far more than a Mechanic.”

  “All I ever wanted to be was a Mechanic,” Mari said.

  Camber nodded, stepping back. “Yet you were willing to be the daughter when called upon. The world suffers from those whose ambition drives them to be more and more. But it needs those willing to be more than they wish when they are needed. I will tell the Emperor he need not fear you.”

  Mari nodded in return. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’ll be keeping my eye on the Emperor. He and I might not see eye to eye on what’s necessary.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  Camber had no sooner left than an official stuck his head in the room, looking worried. “Lady, the Syndaris are here.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “They’re not attacking, are they?” Mari demanded.

  “No, Lady! I’m sorry. It’s a delegation from Syndar. They urgently request a meeting with you.”

  Mari rubbed her forehead, sighing. “Do they look scared?”

  “We ensured that they came past your army encampments on the way in, so, yes, they are probably very worried, Lady.”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  Three Syndaris entered, two women and a man, all dressed in the bright, colorful garb of the highest-ranking officials of the Syndar Islands. The woman in the lead bowed stiffly toward Mari. “There has been an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  Alain answered. “Is unfortunate misunderstanding the term used in Syndar for a surprise attack?”

  The woman paused. “We were lied to, told that you intended to attack us and that we must strike first if we were to have any chance. The lies were inexcusable, but surely you, in your mercy and your wisdom, will understand why we acted in self-defense.”

  “It is difficult when someone lies about such important matters,” Alain said, knowing that Mari would understand that he was telling her the Syndari emissary was lying. “Lies inspire neither mercy nor wisdom.”

  Mari leaned forward slightly, her expression hardening. “As my Mage says, I’m not feeling particularly merciful. You struck at Pacta Servanda and shipping in the Umbari without warning.”

  “The Empire did the same at Dorcastle!�
��

  “The Empire just sued for peace,” Mari said, her voice cold. “You come in here and claim that you’re victims.”

  “We have full reports of the losses you suffered at Pacta Servanda,” Alain added. “We know how dangerously weak the remaining forces of Syndar are, and how poorly they would fight if attacked now in the wake of such an awful defeat. And we have heard that the Queen of Tiae is full of wrath at your attack. It would be best not to give her cause to act on that wrath.”

  The three from Syndar exchanged looks. “What do you want?” the leader asked Mari.

  Mari relaxed a bit. “I don’t want Syndar. Neither does anyone else. But we’ll all act if we have to. What we want are some solid assurances that Syndar will not pose further threats to us.”

  “You are speaking on behalf of the Bakre Confederation? And of Tiae?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you wish the heads of those responsible,” the Syndari woman said, “you already have them. They all accompanied the attack, and all died.”

  Alain nodded to Mari to let her know that this time the Syndari had spoken the truth.

  “What I wish,” Mari said, “is measures to ensure that Syndar’s neighbors are safe from attack, and that no one can use the Syndari Islands as a safe haven for threatening others.”

  “What are your demands, daughter of Jules?”

  “Nothing you shouldn’t be able to live with.”

  Getting those terms spelled out in ways that the other countries involved would accept took quite a while longer. After that, Alain found himself and Mari called in to help resolve the reparations issue between the Empire and the Confederation. Alain’s sympathy for the Confederation was tested by what he thought unseemly haggling over what appeared to be small sums compared to what the Empire had already agreed to, but he could not feel sympathy for the Empire given how many had died defending Dorcastle.

  He could tell that Mari was feeling the same, but she maintained an outwardly evenhanded approach, trying to get past the stumbling blocks, until her low endurance betrayed her. As Mari slumped in her seat, Alain turned to the stubborn negotiators eyeing her with wary concern. “Is it not enough?” he asked in a toneless voice.