Jack Campbell - The Hidden Masters of Marandur

Wren shrugged. “There was discussion that surely the Emperor Palan didn’t mean to include the university in his edict. By the time everyone realized that he did, it was too late for those who had tarried. Here they were, here they stayed, and as they wed and had children, here we came to be. We have kept the form of the university all these years, making the most learned and senior among us the professors and masters, while most of those living here are labeled students even though they devote far more time to the tasks of survival than they do to studies.”

“Have you ever tried to petition subsequent emperors?” Mari asked. “Surely if they knew-”

“Emperors do not accept petitions from the dead, Lady Mechanic,” a professor stated with a coldness born of lack of hope. “We would need to be alive to have such a petition considered by the emperor, and we cannot be alive until the emperor considers such a petition. To the Imperial bureaucracy, such a dilemma is an unfortunate byproduct of the rules by which they operate, but certainly not in their eyes grounds for changing those rules.”

“Of course,” another one of the university masters added, “the fact that the Imperial sentries slay anyone they catch trying to leave the city is also a problem. We haven’t tried finding volunteers to carry such a petition for some time, since we don’t care to waste any more lives.”

Professor Wren spoke again. “You are trapped here now with us. We regret that, but we have managed to keep much of the university’s stock of knowledge intact. If you desire learning, it can still be had here.”

Mari shook her head. “I’m a Mechanic. What I needed was those manuscripts from the Mechanics Guild Hall. Without them, I can’t do what I need to do.”

Once again Alain saw the hidden reactions among the professors, confirming his earlier belief. They are hiding something. They know something about those things Mari seeks. Do I confront them now? No. I will wait and speak with Mari of it. She knows more than I do of these records, and together we will better determine how to respond to the deceit of these Masters.

Professor Wren nodded regretfully. “There may be something else we know that can help in your task. What is it you need to do?”

Mari gave the professor a flat look, speaking with calm certainty. “I need to change the world.”

Later that evening, they joined most of the remaining inhabitants of the university in the former faculty dining hall. The old student dining hall was far too vast for the roughly five hundred people who still lived inside the walls. They were served a sparse meal which the thin frames of the professors and the other inhabitants of the university made clear was the norm, It consisted mostly of potatoes and a few other vegetables grown inside the walls, leavened by a few scraps of meat from the meager flock of chickens and herd of pigs that the students watched over. Alain, experienced in such a diet from his days as a Mage acolyte, recognized it as one that would keep people alive, but not much more than that.

Afterwards, Alain sat on the bed in the small private student quarters he had been given. The single candle lighting the room danced in the cold drafts penetrating the aging walls and window frame, causing shadows to shift and flow. The masters of the university, either out of propriety or because they could not imagine a Mage and a Mechanic wanting to share a room, had given them separate quarters.

He knew Mari had come to his door before her soft knock came. The thread between them seemed to be ever-present now. Mari had her pack with her, avoiding Alain’s eyes as she entered. “I didn’t feel like being alone. Is it all right if I stay in here for a little while?”

“It is all right,” Alain said. Mari was keeping her face averted, but he could see enough to spot a tangle of emotions chasing each other.

She sat down at the desk, facing mostly away from him, her pack on the floor. “So…you’re doing all right?” Mari asked.

“I am. Are you well?”

“Sure,” she replied, the tenseness underlying the word denying it. After a long, quiet moment, Mari yanked open her pack and pulled out a small packet, then reached under her jacket to bring out her weapon.

Alain watched as she brought out small tools and brushes, as well as a little bottle that smelled of oil. He had seen Mari do what she called “cleaning” the weapon, a task which always seemed to bring her comfort. But this time her hands shook as she worked, shook so badly that she kept dropping things, until Mari finally stopped, staring at the pieces of her weapon where they lay on the desk. “Alain? Can I…can I sleep in here tonight?”

“Yes. You did not need to ask.”

“I just…it’s been an pretty rough day. The ruins and…and the river…and getting in here and…I…I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.” Alain felt that he should be doing something, but did not know what.

Mari came and sat down next to Alain, still not looking at him. “Do you want to do more?”

“More?”

“Than sleep. I mean…you know…if we’re trapped here. We might as well stop waiting.”

He watched her, trying to figure out her meaning, then it dawned on him and a strange feeling flooded him. “Mari, why do you offer this when I know it is important to you to wait?”

“It’s just…not that important anymore. That’s all. Do you want to?”

“Yes.” Alain wanted to reach for her, touch her, but he stopped himself. She was still looking off to one side, away from him. “I do not think you want to.”

“I said I did, Alain!”

“It does not feel right.” Something was very wrong. He could sense that much.

Mari breathed deeply, then wrapped her arms about him, her face against his shoulder. “My brave, wonderful Mage. How many men would have turned down that chance? Can we go to sleep now? Just sleep?”

The student bed was narrow, but there was enough room for them both as long as they held each other. Alain could feel the tension in Mari after she blew out the candle, but it did not seem to be tension born of physical strain. Plainly exhausted, Mari fell asleep fairly quickly, her body relaxing in his arms, but her breathing occasionally ragged. Concerned, Alain took longer to sleep, but finally drifted off as well.

He woke in the stillness of very late night, feeling Mari thrashing in his arms. Alain focused on her face, dimly visible in the weak moonlight filtering through the room’s window. Mari’s eyes were closed in sleep, but her mouth was open, distended, her expression that of someone screaming. Yet no sound emerged. There were only the jerky movements of her body and the silent scream caught in Mari’s throat.

Alain had never felt so frightened as he did then. “Mari! Mari!” He shook her as he called her name and Mari’s eyes flew open, looking about wildly before they finally met his. “What is wrong?”

She started crying, then buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled. “Alain…Alain…don’t let go. I keep seeing them. I keep seeing them.”

He knew, then. “Those we had to kill. Mari, they gave us no choice. If we had not fought, they would have killed us, and I am certain our deaths would have been much slower and much more painful than the deaths we gave them.”

“It doesn’t matter, Alain! Will I forget them? Tell me I won’t always see them!”

He felt a certainty that Mari, who had never wanted falsehood, now wanted a lie. “You will not always see them.”

“You’re lying,” she sobbed. “I can tell you’re lying. Tell me again.”

“You will not always see them.” Alain had never felt so helpless as he held her, Mari’s tears wetting his chest. “Mari, the memories do fade some. They are not easy to live with, but you can. That is so.”