The Gate of Gods (Fall of the Ile-Rien) (11 page)

Nicholas retreated back into the house. Giliead had actually spent the morning talking to him, answering a lot of questions dealing with Syprian wizards in general and Ixion in particular. It had been an interesting experience, to say the least. Nicholas wasn’t a man who revealed much of himself, but Giliead could tell enough to know that he was even more ruthless at heart than Tremaine.

Giliead stepped back to let Gerard in, noticing the familiar bag the wizard had slung over his shoulder. Except what was in it wasn’t so familiar. “That’s not the god-sphere.”

“No, this is the sphere Niles made. He wanted to work on the
Ravenna
’s illusion charms and Arisilde is much better for that, so I went out to the ship and traded spheres with him,” Gerard explained. His brows lifted and he added in exasperation, “I also think Niles is feeling left out, but there’s nothing we can do about that. One of us has to stay with the ship.”

Giliead waited in the cold entrance hall of the old house, arms folded, as Gerard conducted the Capidarans in. One of the men was a wizard, but small, stooped and much older than any wizard Giliead had ever seen, with long graying hair and a wrinkled face. He walked with a limp and had the delicate pale paper-thin skin of the very old or very ill. He looked more like someone who should be at home by the hearth being looked after by his grandsons, especially on a wet gray day like this.

As the group milled in the dingy hall, shedding coats and decorative walking sticks and other items, Gerard brought the old man over, saying, “Giliead, this is Kressein, the former Capidaran Ministry sorcerer who has come out of retirement for the war. Master Kressein, this is Giliead of Andrien, the god of Cineth’s Chosen Vessel.”

The old man looked up at him with clear bright blue eyes, saying in Rienish, “I have been very curious to meet you.”

Giliead lifted his brows, keeping his expression noncommittal. Despite the man’s age, he could tell Kressein was wrapped in curses. Like the Rienish curses he was getting better and better at sensing, these were passive curses, not meant to be harmful. He wondered if they were there to help sustain the old man’s health. Kressein, apparently undaunted by the cool reception, continued, “I’ve heard much about your ability to see etheric traces. You can truly tell someone is a sorcerer simply by looking at him?”

Giliead let his breath out, recognizing the request for a demonstration. His eyes flicked over the rest of the group. Two men in the red and gray that Capidaran warriors wore, three in the dull brown or blue clothes of most men in the city. The youngest one carried a large leather bag slung over his shoulder. Two women, both in the confining clothes and little caps favored here, like the ones Tremaine wore when she went to the council meetings. He nodded toward the younger sharp-featured one who wore her long dark hair pulled back into a bun. She had done a curse recently; he could still see it on her hands, though he couldn’t tell what it had been. “She’s a wizard.” He had spoken in Syrnaic, but the woman looked up sharply, startled. “And you made a sphere.” He rested his eyes on the leather bag carried by the young man. “But it doesn’t have a god.” Not alive, it wasn’t able to conceal itself like their sphere-god. It was like the sphere Niles had made; Giliead could see it through the material of the bag, its curses swirling inside, tinted with the same aura as its creator.

Gerard translated his answer, and Kressein laughed, startled. “I see there was no exaggeration. You’re correct, of course.”

“Of course,” Gerard echoed with a slight smile.

Kressein gave him a sideways glance. Giliead thought he saw rivalry but couldn’t tell if it was friendly or not. He wondered if Gerard hadn’t just been making him known to the other wizard, but had been making the point that Giliead could see any curses Kressein might cast. But the old man only smiled. “So, let’s see this new gateway of yours.”

W
aiting for Tremaine, Ilias wandered back into the entry room, where people were working over the maps. He felt his own frustration easing as he watched all these preparations, even if what they were preparing for was the trip back to the other side of this world, that would take them through the world-gate back to Cineth. When they returned to the Syrnai, the god would pass judgment on Giliead, and at least the waiting would be over. He was more than ready for the waiting to be over.

The door to the stairwell opened and Ander entered, exchanging greetings with the other men.
Oh, good, him again.
Ilias made an effort to look bored and not disgruntled, casually moving to a table to look at the map spread there, though he had no idea what place it depicted. It did no good, as Ander spotted him and strolled over, saying in Syrnaic, “Hello, Ilias. What are you doing here?”

Ilias glanced up, taking his time. He said in Rienish, “Averi asked us to come.”

Ander lifted a brow. “Us?”

Just then Tremaine returned from down the hall, looking thoughtful. She saw them standing together and her expression took on a certain sardonic cast. “Tremaine.” Ander greeted her with a nod. “What brings you here?”

“Just doing a favor for Averi,” she replied. She eyed him for a moment. “Have you heard from Gerard?”

“About the second trip through the new circle?” He nodded. “The Capidarans are sending a contingent to the house to get a look at the circle for themselves. Afterward we’re going to assemble a small group to go through and look at the night sky. We’ll probably stay at least until morning so we can search the place thoroughly.”

We this, we that,
Ilias thought, looking down at the toes of his boots to hide his disgusted expression. It would have been interesting to hear Gerard’s reaction to that. Tremaine must have thought so too. She put on the smile that Ilias thought of as her fake one, saying mockearnestly, “We’d better get back then so we can get ready.”

Ander lifted his brows. “Don’t you think you should stay here?” he asked.

Tremaine frowned, glancing around. “Why? What could I do here?”

He smiled. “I didn’t mean here in the office, I meant here, in Capidara.”

Tremaine’s frown was reaching the point where if Ilias had been on the receiving end, he would have seriously considered keeping his mouth shut unless he was in the mood for a fight. Her tone clipped, she said, “And again I have to ask: and do what?”

“Be safe.”

Ilias stared, then rolled his eyes.

“Safe?” Tremaine’s laugh was derisive. “There isn’t anywhere that’s safe. Not anymore. Besides, what’s the point in…” Her expression stilled and Ilias knew she had seen it now. She said softly, “The point is that I wouldn’t be getting in the way. Is that it?”

Ilias read the anger under that deceptively mild tone, but he wasn’t sure if Ander did. Ander shook his head so reasonably. “I didn’t say that. But this trip, and the one to Lodun …If we do manage to get in, it’s going to be a long hard fight. We need sorcerers and soldiers. There wouldn’t be anything for you to do,” he pointed out gently.

Tremaine’s expression was like brittle glass. Watching her, Ilias lost his sour sense of triumph over Ander’s misstep. It wasn’t just an insult; it had struck her to the heart. He tried to interrupt, “Tremaine—”

But she was still looking at Ander. “And I’d hate to be in the way,” she snapped, then walked out of the room.

Ander smiled ruefully. “I was afraid she would take it like that.” He slanted a challenging stare at Ilias. “You’re welcome to come along. And Giliead. We could use your help.”

Ilias took two deliberate steps to pass just a little too close to the other man, saying as he walked away, “If I thought you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, I’d feel sorry for you.”

G
iliead paced the hallway outside the ballroom, listening with half an ear to the Capidarans’ conversation. He wasn’t as quick with Rienish as Ilias, but he could understand most of what they said, despite their strange accents. They were carefully copying down the symbols that made up the curse circle and discussing Gerard’s description of the chamber it led to. Giliead had given up trying to look interested after only a short time and come out here to pace, wishing Ilias and Tremaine would return. He would rather see the place himself than hear about it again. He had already consulted with Gerard about what they would need for a longer stay there and a thorough search, and Gerard had sent a list to Averi. There wasn’t much to do until the supplies arrived.

He heard a step on the squeaky floorboards and glanced up to see Cletia cautiously peering out of her room. Brow lifted ironically, he told her, “It’s all right, they’re just talking.”

She gave him a glare and stepped out into the hallway, folding her arms. She wore a loose yellow tunic over pants and boots, and rubbed the sleeves briskly as if she was cold. “This is a very unpleasant place,” she commented.

“I noticed.” He wasn’t going to point out that she didn’t have to be here. Cletia’s break with Pasima still surprised him. He wasn’t entirely sure what had brought it about. He thought part of it might be that Cletia was more than old enough to be making her own household now and that Pasima might not be willing to acknowledge that. Karima had been careful to give his older sister Irissa room to grow, encouraging her to build her own home across the field from the old Andrien house. But Karima had thought her family would increase as her daughter, stepdaughter, and Ilias’s cousin Amari all brought home husbands. Thanks to Ixion, that hadn’t happened. “We won’t be here long.”

Cletia nodded. “We were told the
Ravenna
would go from this world to Cineth, then back again to the Ile-Rien land.”

“The second part isn’t quite that easy.” The plan to try to use a curse gate to get into the city where the other Rienish wizards were under siege was all well and good, but Gerard still didn’t know the right symbols to make the curse circle go where they wanted it to.

She was watching him thoughtfully, frowning a little, but he had known Cletia since she was a child and seldom seen her do anything but frown. Then she said, “Will you go with them?”

Giliead hesitated, both from surprise that she had bothered to ask and the fact that he had no idea how to answer that question. Despite what had happened with Ixion, he didn’t want to abandon this new part of their family at this dangerous time, and he knew Ilias didn’t either. And somebody had to be there when Ixion inevitably turned on the Rienish and the Capidarans. But that wasn’t a decision he was free to make at the moment. “It depends on what happens in Cineth.”

She took a deep breath. “I thought—” The not-so-distant boom of thunder interrupted her and she glanced toward the little round window that lit the stairwell, startled. “That was close.”

His head turned toward the circle of grimy glass, Giliead felt a cold chill walk up his back. There had been no flash of lightning. In the ballroom, Gerard had been speaking but all the voices abruptly stilled. The thunder crashed again, and this time Giliead knew it for what it was.

He turned to the ballroom, almost colliding with Gerard in the doorway. The frozen expression on the wizard’s face would have told Giliead all he needed to know if he hadn’t already guessed. Gerard said, “It’s the Gardier. They’re bombing the city.”

T
remaine was on the stairway down to the foyer when Ilias caught up with her. He didn’t say anything, for which she was grateful. She wasn’t sure what he thought; she knew that as the nominal head of a Syprian household she was doing a lousy job.

They crossed the foyer and reached the outer doors, the cold gray day greeting her as she stepped out on the walk. It had rained lightly while they were inside, making the paving slick and treacherous and giving the brownstone office buildings across the way a damp gloss. She made it two steps down the road before Ilias’s lack of comment got to her and she turned to him and demanded, “Well?”

He shrugged, looking annoyed. “He does that whenever he talks to you.”

Tremaine was already starting to regret her outburst. What was the point, anyway? She shook her head, feeling tired of it all. “He just wants me to be safe.”

Ilias stopped abruptly, startling the businessmen who had been walking behind them into hurriedly veering around. Exasperated, he said, “I want you to be safe. Gil wants you to be safe. Florian wants you to be safe. Gerard, your father, Averi the warleader, they all want you to be safe. When did any of us say it to you in a way that made you seem like a fool?” He gestured helplessly, upset and frustrated. “You said you let him stay around because you hate yourself. That’s true. You want him to punish you.” He took a deep breath, maybe afraid he had said too much. He finished a little lamely, “And you shouldn’t do that.”

She stared at him, mouth open, then managed to shut it and look away.“I…”

Ilias grabbed her arm. Startled, she saw he was looking up, his expression aghast, and followed his gaze.

Stark against the gray clouds was the giant black shape of a Gardier airship. Tremaine stared for a long heartbeat, trying not to believe her eyes. The jagged ridge along the back that led down to the cluster of knife-edged tail fins, the black swell of the balloon, the control cabin tucked up under it.
It’s our airship,
she tried to tell herself. The one they had captured at such high cost in the Gardier world.
It isn’t our airship,
common sense told her a moment later. The cabin was smaller, without the second level; it was one of the older models. Then sound and motion returned and she pointed, yelling a strangled warning to the others on the street as Ilias hauled her toward the shelter of a doorway.

The first explosion crashed as Tremaine slammed back into the closed door, Ilias shielding her with his body. Tremaine knotted her hands in his coat, waiting for flying debris; their shelter was only a step and a brick archway, fully exposed to the street. But though she could hear screams and shouts there was no whoosh of fire and shrapnel.