The Dragons of Dorcastle by Jack Campbell


  “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—”

  “You weren’t told I was coming?” Stimon hadn’t even done her that small courtesy.

  “No, Lady,” the apprentice stammered as Mari’s expression hardened again.

  She relaxed with an effort. “That’s not your fault, either. I need a room.”

  “Of course, Lady Master Mechanic!”

  The apprentice almost fell over himself summoning another apprentice to carry her pack and escort her to a room.

  Mari sighed and just stood for a moment after the door closed, trying to calm herself, then glared at the air cooling unit. The breeze coming out of it was barely moving. Mari rapped the unit irritably, causing the fan to stutter. Ha! Think you can mess with me, you worthless piece of junk? I’ve fixed more complicated things than you in my sleep. She dug in her bag, pulled out her tool kit, popped off the front panel and peered in at the fan. As she had suspected, the screw holding one wire to the fan motor was loose, causing a weak connection. Mari got out a screwdriver, tightened the screw, causing the fan to roar fully to life, then put the panel back on, rapping it home with the handle of her tool.

  The simple repair brought a feeling of satisfaction. She thought of the task she would tackle tomorrow and felt another lift to her spirits. I’m one of the only Mechanics in the world who can do that job. Girl, am I? Wait until they see me at work. Then they’ll call me Lady and mean it.

  She thought about cleaning herself off. Thought for several seconds about doing the quiet thing, the expected thing, the typical thing. She had spent years thinking about those sorts of things, really, years of staying relatively quiet and trying not to raise a fuss, though rarely with complete success. She always asked too many questions, always chafed at rules that didn’t seem to make sense, and other apprentices and later on Mechanics had for some reason looked to her for ideas. It had gained her Master Mechanic status, a recent, close brush with death, and nasty attitudes from Senior Mechanics.

  Mari settled her dusty jacket on her shoulders, ran one hand through her matted hair, set her jaw and went looking for Senior Mechanic Stimon.

  Since dinner hour had sounded, Mari headed for the dining hall. She found Stimon where the Senior Mechanics were dining, seated at the head of the table as befitted the Guild Hall Supervisor. Mari walked briskly across the floor, knowing her boots were leaving dusty footprints, knowing every other Mechanic in the dining hall was watching her. She halted before Stimon’s table. “Master Mechanic Mari reporting in.”

  The Senior Mechanics all looked back at her with disapproval, then Stimon stood up. He had a shaven head, a broad stomach, and a truly impressive frown. All other conversation in the dining hall had stopped, so Stimon’s voice had no trouble carrying clearly. “What is the explanation for your appearance?“

  “I informed you earlier that my caravan had been attacked and almost wiped out, and that I had been forced to make my way to this city by my own means across the desert waste,” Mari said. “What little water I had went to narrowly avoiding dying of thirst, so I was regrettably unable to use it for washing up each evening. However, you instructed me to report to you as soon as I arrived, and I am following your instructions.” Mari jerked her head to get some hair out of her eyes and a fine cloud of dust arose from her, drifting toward the Senior Mechanics’ table.

  “Mechanic Mari—”

  “Master Mechanic Mari.”

  Stimon sat down again, drumming the fingers of one hand on the table. “It appears the stresses of your journey were too much for you.”

  Mari smiled. “Not at all, Guild Hall Supervisor.”

  “I decide whether or not Mechanics are prepared for contract work.”

  “You intend defaulting on the contract with Ringhmon, then?” Mari asked. “I’m the only Mechanic within a few hundred thousand lances who can do the job. I assume you don’t want to discuss that here, though.”

  “No, I don’t,” Stimon said, his face reddening. “You are dismissed. I will see you in the morning, after you have returned your appearance to that expected of a Mechanic.”

  “Thank you, Guild Hall Supervisor Stimon.” Mari pivoted like an apprentice, then walked to a table with a few other Mechanics seated at it. As an apprentice hastened up with a plate of food and a drink, Mari nodded in greetings to the others.

  One of the Mechanics pretended she didn’t see Mari. The other two, a man and woman, smiled in greeting.

  “You really survived the Waste?” the male Mechanic asked, his voice pitched low as conversations began around the dining hall again.

  Mari rubbed her forehead, then looked at the dirt on her hand. “I think I did. I won’t be sure until I get all of this dust off me.”

  The Mechanic who had been ignoring Mari shook her head. “This is what comes of making a child a Mechanic.”

  Mari smiled at her. “A Master Mechanic. I made Mechanic at sixteen.”

  The woman glared at Mari before getting up and walking to sit at another table.

  The face of the female Mechanic who had stayed lit up in recognition. “You must be Mari. A friend of mine at the academy mentioned you in his letters to me. I’m Cara.”

  The man nodded again. “And I’m Trux. The Senior Mechanics are glaring at us.”

  “I get that a lot,” Mari said, digging into the food.

  “They’re on edge more than usual lately, what with the rioting in Julesport.”

  “Rioting?” Mari took a drink to clear her throat. “I’ve been out of touch for weeks now. What happened?”

  Cara answered. “It started out with the usual protests against the Mechanics Guild, but when the Guild Hall at Julesport told the local authorities to shut down the protests the people went crazy and raised blazes for a few days before Confederation troops restored order. Typical. They say they want to rule themselves and then they prove they’re incapable of it.”

  “Not too typical,” Trux commented. “I mean the rioting. It was pretty strange for the commons to explode like that. Like they were primed to blow.”

  “But no one has identified anything unusual going on,” Cara said. “Things are just like they’ve always been. Except that the commons went berserk.”

  “It’s a good thing all of that fury was unfocused,” Trux added. “The commons need a leader, and they’ll never get one that they’ll all follow. That’s why they cling to that daughter of Jules nonsense.”

  “What is that all about?” Mari asked. “I’ve heard that expression a few times.”

  Cara laughed mockingly. “The commons think there was a Mage prophecy a long time ago that a daughter of Jules would someday overthrow the Mechanics Guild. Can you imagine being desperate enough to believe something a Mage said?”

  Mari took another drink to avoid answering, hoping that she wasn’t revealing her reaction to the last statement.

  “The commons think she’ll overthrow the Mage Guild, too,” Trux pointed out. “Jules hasn’t risen from the dead, so the commons have to hope some descendent of hers can do the job.”

  “If any common could have, it might have been Jules,” Cara said. “Not that even Jules could have overthrown the Guild, right?”

  Mari made an uncertain gesture. “I don’t really know anything about Jules.” She saw the surprise on the
others’ faces. “History wasn’t my strongest subject.”

  Trux laughed this time. “If you made Mechanic at sixteen, you wouldn’t have had time for much besides technical subjects. Jules was an officer in the Imperial fleet a long time back, when only the east side of the Sea of Bakre had been settled. She left Imperial service, got her own ship and headed west, exploring and engaging in piracy. She was the first one through the Strait of Gulls into the Jules Sea and the first to sail the Umbari Ocean. Jules helped found a couple of the cities in the Confederation, and when the Empire tried to move in she organized the cities in the west to fight back and keep Imperial control confined to the east.”

  “She must have been an undiscovered Mechanic,” Cara added. “No one who was really a common could have done all of that.”

  “Wow,” Mari commented. “But why did the unrest at Julesport throw off the Senior Mechanics out here? Even if the rioting was unusual, Julesport is a long ways off, and it’s not like there’s never been commons rioting or even attacking the Guild.”

  “Because of Tiae,” Cara said. “How long has it been since the kingdom fell apart? Something like fifteen years, and it just keeps getting worse. I hear it’s complete anarchy there now.”

  Trux nodded. “The Guild pulled the last Mechanic out of there about ten years ago. Too dangerous. Since then the Guild has been trying to hold the line at the border between the Confederation and what used to be Tiae. We think that’s what has the Senior Mechanics spooked, the worry that the unrest in Julesport was the first sign that the problems in Tiae might spread north. If we lose the Confederation like we did Tiae, well, that’s a big chunk of Dematr.”

  “But that won’t make the Guild change the way it does anything,” Mari grumbled, then instantly regretted saying that aloud.

  The other two nodded, though. “Something has to be done,” Trux agreed, his eyes on Mari. “I’ve heard…” He glanced quickly toward the table where the Senior Mechanics sat. “Maybe Cara and I should let you eat.”

 
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