The Wizard Hunters (33 page)

Ilias eased forward to Giliead’s side, watching the sphere curiously. The light clung to Tremaine’s hands, faintly warm and tickling a little. She had expected it to be like the illusory fayre light the sphere had produced before, but this had substance, life. It was like being brushed gently by feathers and she could see why it had made Ilias sneeze.

Giliead shook his head a little, frowning. “I can’t see the curses.”

Not understanding, Tremaine looked up at him and he explained, “It’s part of being the god’s Chosen Vessel. I can tell where curses are. Some of them don’t work on me.”

“The sphere doesn’t often react to magic unless its wielder is attacked,” Gerard said quietly, watching them. “Perhaps your ability works along the same lines, and you can’t detect adjurations that aren’t hostile to you.”

Giliead and Ilias looked at each other, both turning over that piece of information. Tremaine realized that Gerard had used the Rienish word for
adjuration
or
spell
. The only Syrnaic word available was
curse
, with everything that implied.

The light drifted away from the sphere back up toward the cave roof. It twined among the vines, fading back to vanish in the cracks and crevices, the firefly glimmers going out one by one.

Ander let out a relieved breath. “Is that it?”

Giliead looked quietly vindicated. Not so quietly, Ilias grinned up at him and said, “I like being right.”

Giliead smiled and gave his shoulder a shake. He looked at Gerard and asked, “So how can we help you?”

F
  Chapter 13  
F

T
he afternoon sun was hot but it was still cool under the shadows of the trees as they walked back from the god’s cave. Despite the aches and bruises, Tremaine realized she was enjoying herself; the air was filled with the scents of pine and damp earth and the countryside was lovely.

They took a slightly different path, winding further up the gentle hills, heading toward a spot further inland from the village. Gerard and Ander had explained about their need to reach the point at sea near where the Pilot Boat had been attacked so they could return to their world. Giliead had agreed to take them in the
Swift
tomorrow morning when the tide went out. During this explanation Gerard had tried to describe the concept of different worlds and traveling between them, stopping to draw diagrams in the dirt of the path as illustrations. Both men had listened with interest but Tremaine really couldn’t tell if this was comprehension or just courtesy; Gerard’s diagrams weren’t terribly illuminating even for her and she knew what he was talking about. Finally Giliead had stopped him, saying, “As long as you know how to get there.”

Tremaine noticed that Giliead had relaxed considerably once the god had approved them. Ilias hadn’t seemed to ever think the outcome was in doubt, but then he knew them a little better. Now they were talking of more immediate concerns: the airships and how to fight them and the likelihood of an attack tonight.

“It’s best if we try to conceal our presence from the Gardier now, rather than using the sphere to fight them again,” Gerard pointed out. “If they perceive your people as a threat, the island base could summon more airships and attack the entire undefended coast.”

Florian grimaced and Tremaine muttered, “Ouch.” The image Gerard’s words had conjured wasn’t a pleasant one.

Giliead frowned thoughtfully, digesting the uncomfortable thought. “You said even with all your people’s curses, you couldn’t defend your cities.”

“We tried everything.” Ander looked off into the woods. Tremaine remembered he had done his first work as an Intelligence officer on the Aderassi front; he would have seen more of those failures than most.

Giliead watched him a moment, perhaps reading the same thing from Ander’s expression, then glanced at Gerard. “Halian and some others will be watching the village from a distance, to see what happens when the Gardier come after their flying whale.” He still hesitated a little over the word
Gardier
and Tremaine realized it wasn’t particularly easy for a speaker of Syrnaic to pronounce.

Ilias walked along ahead of her, his thumbs hooked in his belt. “Why do the flying whales burn so easily?” he asked Gerard. “They go up like straw.”

“The hydrogen gas ... the air inside the flying whales is very flammable. Like oil.”

“Oh.” Ilias looked at Giliead, brows lifted.

The larger man pursed his lips thoughtfully. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” Ander asked, just a touch sharply. He still didn’t seem to trust their new allies. Tremaine supposed it was his job.

“We set one on fire, in their caves,” Giliead admitted.

“We heard about that from the people who are prisoners there.” Florian nodded rapidly. “And their base was still disorganized. That’s why we were able to get away.”

“You set one on fire?” Ander asked, stopping to stare at the two men.

“It was an accident,” Ilias explained. “Killed some wizards, though.” Giliead nudged him and he glanced around at them, suddenly recalling his audience. “Present company excepted,” he added with an apologetic smile.

“So they lost two airships.” Ander whistled appreciatively as they started to walk again. “That base could only have had four at most, we knew that from the attacks it launched on Chaire.”

“How did you set one on fire?” Gerard asked, casting an intent glance at the two men. “The Gardier airships should be protected from fire by spells, though the sphere appears to have learned a way around that.”

As Giliead described his and Ilias’s earlier adventure with the Gardier, Tremaine was impressed. They hadn’t had a clue what the airship was, whether it was alive or not, and yet they had had the courage to explore it. Even knowing it was surrounded by dangerous wizards.
And we know how they feel about wizards
, she thought. The fact that they were able to overcome those prejudices, at least in the case of their Rienish visitors, said a lot for them as well.

“I’d swear that one burned much bigger than the one we got today,” Bias commented as Giliead finished the story.

“Those metal cylinders you found on the dock, those were bombs,” Gerard said thoughtfully. “At least one of them must have exploded when the burning hull fell on them.”

Giliead shook his head, giving Gerard a quizzical smile. “Some of those words didn’t mean anything.”

“Bombs. They’re like those pots you threw at the airship with the catapult,” Tremaine explained. “Except they do a lot more damage.”

“Oh.” Giliead threw a wry look at Ilias. “Good thing we didn’t find a way to open them.”

Ilias snorted. “No kidding.”

“It seems very odd,” Gerard said, frowning. “The . . . There doesn’t seem to be a word in Syrnaic for ‘electrical,’ though I suppose that’s to be expected. The system that provides the power . . . well, it shouldn’t be that vulnerable. Perhaps their spells to prevent sparks focus on the outside of the craft.”

Giliead listened to this with drawn brows. Tremaine thought he hadn’t followed what Gerard was trying to say until he pointed out, “They were afraid of fire, even outside the whale.”

“They went crazy when the wizard lights made a fire,” Ilias added.

Looking up at the two men thoughtfully, Florian put in, “In Ile-Rien we’ve got regulations that say even if a building has charms on it to prevent fire, it’s still against the law to pile up oily rags in the stairwell or do other stupid things. Maybe the Gardier just rely on their magic and don’t take other precautions.”

“It’s a possibility,” Gerard admitted, not sounding satisfied with the explanation. “Spells used to prevent fire are rather difficult to construct. Most of our magic is designed to assist natural processes, or to manipulate the ether in ways not adverse to those processes. But considering the Gardier’s other abilities, it shouldn’t be beyond them.”

They came out of the forest and stopped at the top of a low hill. Nestled in the shallow valley below was a rambling flat-roofed two-story stone house, shaded by big trees. Tremaine could see it was built in a square with a central atrium, but it didn’t look as if it was meant for defense; there were windows in the outside walls, just openings without even shutters to close. To one side there were outbuildings and animal pens and she could see a large garden plot with grape arbors and smaller trees with soft purple blossoms. On the far side of the garden were the ruins of another building almost the size of the big house, the remains of the foundation and tumbled roof beams outlined in the tall grass.

Figures moved in the woods at the edge of the fields below and Tremaine caught a glimpse of men pushing a two-wheeled cart through a clearing. Giliead glanced back at them, explaining, “Those are people from Agis’s village. They’ll be passing the word to evacuate to all the villages close to the beach and telling people not to light fires tonight.”

“Good.” Ander nodded, watching the movement below. “That will buy you some time.”

Tremaine winced.
It would have happened anyway
, she told herself.
The Gardier wouldn‘t leave them alone for long
.

Giliead still hesitated and Tremaine saw Ilias watching him with worried expectation. Then Giliead faced them and took a deep breath. With obvious reluctance, he said, “We have to tell you, this house is under a curse. The curse makes things happen to women and children who belong to our family.” He looked deliberately at Tremaine and Florian. “I don’t know if it would affect people who weren’t related to us, but if you’d rather stay elsewhere . . .”

Her mind still on the imminent Gardier attack, Tremaine shrugged. “I’ll take the chance.”

Gerard threw her an odd look but said to Giliead, “Would you accept our help with this curse? I could try to remove it.”

“Remove it?” Ilias repeated, startled.

Giliead shook his head, puzzled. “It’s Ixion’s curse,” he said, as if he wasn’t quite sure what Gerard meant.

With a thoughtful frown, Gerard looked down at the house. “Even though a different sorcerer cast it, magical methods ... it’s still a matter of patterns of etheric energy.” He frowned in frustration, perhaps realizing that the words were coming out in Rienish and meant nothing in Syrnaic. “Of course, I can’t promise anything.”

“But you could try?” Ilias asked, casting a pensive look at Giliead.

Gerard lifted his brows. “Considering what little you’ve said of Ixion, I would be delighted to try,” he said dryly.

A
s they came out of the woods again and up the path toward the house, they saw people herding cattle— big, red-coated cattle with shaggy manes and huge horns— and others carrying baskets and bales up toward another broad path into the woods. As Halian had said, they had been attacked by wizards before. Fading back into the hills was something they knew how to do. Tremaine saw familiar faces from the crew of the
Swift
among the men who seemed to be organizing the exodus.

The large trees surrounding the house shaded the bleached stone from the afternoon sun. Tremaine noticed they were oaks, one of the few trees she could positively identify with any degree of accuracy, and knew the house must have been here for many years.

There was a woman on the porch speaking to Gyan. When she saw them coming up the path she hurried down the steps. She was an older woman, with long graying brown hair, wearing a sleeveless gown of dark green, the hem printed with blue and gold designs, and a rich maroon silk stole. The expression of delighted relief that lit up her face made her look years younger.

She greeted Giliead with a hug, then held out a hand to Ilias, pulling him to her to kiss his cheek. Gyan remained on the porch, watching them with a smile.

Giliead turned back to explain, “This is my mother, Karima.” Tremaine saw Ander’s startled look and hid a smile. He might find it a little hard to support his “they’re secretly planning to kill us” theory now. You didn’t bring people you meant to kill home to meet your mother, not in Ile-Rien at least. Probably not even in Bisra.

Giliead introduced them all around, then hesitated, saying, “Mother, they’re—”

“Gyan told me what happened,” Karima interposed swiftly, letting him know they could skip discussion of the touchy wizard issue.

Giliead nodded, relieved. “Halian took the
Swift
to Cineth?”

“Yes, and Agis sent the fishing boats down the coast to Vela.” She stepped to Florian, smiling at her and giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been walking this poor child all over the country. Don’t stand out here, come into the house.”

As the others followed her, Ilias stopped Tremaine on the porch, asking softly, “Can Gerard really take the curse away?”

Tremaine hesitated, thinking about it, trying to give him an honest answer. “Gerard’s a very good sorcerer. When he worked for my father he had a lot of experience with keeping sorcerers from spying on us or trying to kill us.” She glanced up and saw Ander standing in the doorway, staring at them suspiciously. She glared at him, waving at him to move along. Ilias observed this with a lifted brow, his lips twitching in a smile, and it took Tremaine a moment to get her train of thought back. “Gerard comes from the kind of magical training where there’s a big emphasis on knowing how things work and why, and looking for subtle ways to do things instead of just throwing a lot of powerful spells around.”

Ilias nodded. “He’s a scholar.”

“Exactly. And I think he’s thinking of Ixion as one of these types that are all flash and no foundation but I’m not sure that’s the case. If you could tell him more about Ixion, that might help.”

Ilias scratched his chin, looking toward the house but with such a distant expression she knew he wasn’t seeing it as she was. Then he shook his head slightly. “I’ll try.”

They went inside to a large airy room where Giliead was explaining to Karima that Gerard was going to attempt to remove the curse. She was listening with a faint worried frown but didn’t voice any objections. Tremaine looked around, taking in the big doors looking out into the garden atrium and the dull red walls with borders of decorative figures along the cornices. The floor was a mosaic of tiny chips of stone, forming a stylized seascape with islands and galleys like the
Swift
. For all the color it had the comfortable-shabby feel of an old house where the inhabitants like it as it is and don’t bother with new paint and plaster. Tremaine was getting the feeling that this family hadn’t worried about what their neighbors thought for a long time.