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

by Martha Wells

  Tremaine craned her neck to look into the front room, obviously trying to see if Gerard and the others waiting there had heard Ander’s name. “I did not ignore you. And don’t change the subject,” she snapped.

  Giliead rolled his eyes wearily. Cletia must be out of her mind to think this isn’t a real marriage. “Fine, all right. The door will be open, just stay outside.” He nodded to the guard, who had been regarding the Syrnaic conversation with impatience.

  The man opened the door and stepped back.

  The room was small but clean and the air wasn’t stale; the Rienish had always treated their prisoners better than the Gardier. There was a small bed with cushions and blankets, and Ixion sat on the edge of it, watching them with a puzzled expression. Giliead’s first startled thought was It’s not him. Then he looked more closely, stepping forward into the room. The wizard’s hair and eyebrows had grown in more fully, disguising the unnatural smoothness of the body he had grown like a curseling in one of his vats. He had beard stubble now too, and it made him look younger, innocent. And somehow less like his original body. Or maybe that was his expression, baffled and a little worried. Ixion said in Rienish, “Who are you?”

  Giliead had discovered the hard way that he couldn’t tell someone was a wizard unless they had recently made a curse. He couldn’t smell or see any curses around Ixion now, but that meant nothing. He glanced back at Ilias, who was leaning in the doorway, warily fascinated. He was holding Tremaine’s hand, either for reassurance or to keep her from following Giliead inside or probably a combination of both. Tremaine just looked fascinated. Making his voice even, Giliead told Ixion, “You know who I am.”

  Ixion shook his head. “No, I don’t know anyone here.” He sounded as if he was weary of saying it. “I don’t know where this place is, or how I got here.” His eyes moved from Giliead to Ilias and Tremaine. Giliead realized suddenly why he had thought this wasn’t Ixion. The wizard’s eyes had been dark brown in his old body and his new one. Now they were blue. “Why does this building feel like it’s floating?”

  Giliead saw Ilias’s eyes narrow and Tremaine lift a skeptical brow. He knew they thought it was a trick, but Giliead wasn’t certain. Ilias asked suspiciously, “What do you remember?”

  Ixion gestured helplessly, unaware that his audience had tensed at the movement. “A farm, I think, the forest. A city …? It’s all in fragments.”

  Giliead felt the god’s presence again as it worked its way through some inner conduit inside the ship’s structure. Relieved that it had decided to follow them here, he looked up in time to see it climb out of the curse light in the ceiling of the room. Arisilde’s words came back to him again: It feels it more than you know, unsettling and warming, all at the same time. He had always told himself that the god didn’t feel toward him the way he felt toward it, that it didn’t have emotions as people did. But maybe all it lacked was a way to communicate those feelings. The haze of light drifted into a corner, and he could feel it studying Ixion intensely. Is it true? he asked it. Did Arisilde take away his memory?

  It pushed images toward him and Giliead concentrated, his eyes widening as he realized what the god was telling him. He told Ixion hastily, “It’ll be all right. You’re on a foreign ship, an ally’s ship, in the Cineth harbor. Just give us time to talk it over.”

  Ixion nodded uncertainly, though hope had leapt to life in those unfamiliar eyes. This was possibly the most solid information he had been given yet. Giliead stepped out, having to shift Ilias and Tremaine out of his way, and the guard closed the door again. “What?” Ilias demanded. “Is that all? How can you tell—”

  “Arisilde took away his ability to cast curses, and all his memories of ever using them,” Giliead interrupted. The god had followed him, popping out of the curse light in this room and drifting down to settle under the table the other Rienish guard was sitting at, somewhat to the man’s consternation.

  Gerard had come into the room with Nicholas in time to hear. “He took away his magic?” he repeated, sounding shocked.

  “I thought he was different but I couldn’t tell how. But the god is certain of it,” Giliead told him. Arisilde had shared the knowledge with the god just like a Chosen Vessel would. It had seen Arisilde blast the curses out of Ixion’s body and mind, scouring him clean like sand out of a shell.

  Nicholas lifted his brows. “I’d say that sounds like a permanent solution. And very like Arisilde.”

  Ilias was staring at Giliead, almost as confused as the rootless man that was all that was left of Ixion. “You’re sure? The god is sure?”

  “We’re sure. It’s over.” They just stared at each other for a long moment. Giliead felt light-headed suddenly, from relief, from the shock of finally being able to close the door on Ixion forever. He put a hand on Ilias’s shoulder to steady himself, then pulled him into a tight hug. He felt Ilias gasp a half sob against his shoulder as the realization sank in. “It’s over.”

  Tremaine commandeered a ride with one of the lifeboats back to Cineth as the sun was rising over Cineth’s hills. The Gardier boy Calit was with her, standing in the bow next to the woman sailor who was piloting the boat.

  The fresh wind cleared her head, though drinking the stewed coffee available in the wheelhouse with no food to pad her stomach had made her a little queasy. Queasy, she thought, disgusted with herself. Not exactly the right way to start a mission behind enemy lines.

  At least she was going, apparently on her own merit as one of the few people with experience with the Gardier. She mentally amended that; a large number of people had experience with the Gardier, very few of them had actually survived it. The other members of the party were Gerard, Nicholas, Ilias and Giliead; the other top four in the list of Gardier survivors.

  After a frantic meeting in the officers’ chartroom in the wheelhouse, Averi had finally agreed to the plan to try to liberate Lodun, though it was a little different from the major military operation that the council and the Capidarans had originally conceived back in Capistown.

  Leaning on the battered and coffee-stained surface of the chart table, Gerard told them all, “During our adventure, I’ve been able to put together a new modified gate circle, using the point-to-point circles we discovered and tested along the way. Now those circles only operated within this world, apparently as a quick method of travel for some of the ancient inhabitants. Though this new circle can’t take us from here to Ile-Rien, it can—theoretically—transport us up to approximately five miles, within a single world. The short distance is because there is no receiving circle on the other end. If the distance is any greater, my calculations show that the spell would simply dissipate.”

  Averi, his skin sallow and yellow with illness and his eyes hollow and exhausted, had nodded. “You’re thinking of creating the circle just outside Lodun, and using it to transport a group inside the barrier. A group with spheres for the sorcerers trapped inside.”

  Gerard inclined his head. “Exactly. The next problem, as we all realized, was to get to Ile-Rien past the blockade. The Gardier have the coast of Ile-Rien completely locked down, and they have been showing an increasing ability to detect and focus in on our use of the world-gate circles. The more we use them, the more adept they become at locating us. But Niles has a solution.”

  Niles took up the explanation: “I’ve been working on the problem using the circle Arisilde gave us in Capistown.” Captain Marais had a look of thunderous confusion, so Niles elaborated, “Arisilde altered it to create a gate from any point in our world to the circle in an ancient ruin in a mountain range somewhere in this world. I was trying to alter it so that we could gate directly into Lodun from a point of safety in this world, such as Cineth, or the Ravenna herself. I had to eliminate the Ravenna as apparently any movement whatsoever, even if the ship was at anchor, would change the parameters. Possibly fatally. But the other problem is finding the destination site. I don’t have any parameters for Lodun, as a circle has never been drawn there. I do, howe
ver, have perfect parameters for Port Rel and for the old Viller Institute site outside Vienne, where the first test circles were created.”

  “But those circles were both destroyed to keep the Gardier from using them,” Averi pointed out.

  Niles spread his hands. “But we still have their full parameters. And Arisilde has indicated that with a few adjustments, he can make my circle work.” He cleared his throat, and added, “He’s also indicated that three o’clock tomorrow afternoon is the best time to attempt this.”

  Averi and Marais exchanged a look indicating something of a lack of confidence in Arisilde’s indications, but Gerard nodded. “We use your world-to-world circle to gate from Cineth directly to Port Rel. The Gardier near there are sure to notice our arrival in Ile-Rien, so we’ll have to move quickly. We’ll make our way to Lodun and use my point-to-point circle to gate inside the barrier. And give the sorcerers trapped there a selection of the spheres we’ve made.”

  Niles nodded. “In the meantime, I’ll create a point-to-point circle on the Ravenna. The Ravenna will then gate to Ile-Rien, using its conventional circle. Once you establish the other point at Lodun, we can evacuate the civilians back to the Ravenna. Since both the startingpoint circle and the destination circle will be within the same world, the ship’s movement shouldn’t matter. Again, the Gardier will probably detect the activity, but we’re counting on the Ravenna’s speed and the spheres to hold them off during the process.” He made this sound easy.

  Averi had shaken his head, doubtful and conflicted. Tremaine hadn’t remembered until then that his wife was trapped in Lodun, that Niles had a brother in the medical college there. Gerard said with quiet emphasis, “I think we all know what will happen if we don’t get those people out before the Gardier lift the barrier and push through whatever defenses Lodun has mounted. We may already be too late.”

  So it had been decided, and Tremaine was mostly relieved that they had a plan, even if it was based on jury-rigged spell circles and weeksold intelligence of the situation in Ile-Rien and Port Rel.

  The Capidarans had been ferried back from Cineth earlier this morning, with Aras still maintaining Meretrisa’s innocence. Tremaine didn’t suppose the woman would face any punishment, and at the moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. There had been so many spies, so many traitors, what was one more?

  Now she just wanted to get this done before it was time to get ready for the mission. Gerard, Niles, Giaren and the other Rienish sorcerer Avrain had already landed a short distance down the coast, between Cineth and Andrien village, at a spot Kias had guided them to. It was sheltered, secluded and safely within the god’s territory; an excellent place to construct the new circle. Everyone was working quickly to meet Arisilde’s deadline.

  Ilias and Giliead had stayed behind. While Tremaine had caught a few hours of sleep, then gotten Calit ready to leave, both men had been conked out exhausted on a bed in the Syprians’ stateroom. They had been too unconscious to give her an opinion on whether they wanted to come along or not. Tremaine felt they were not only sleeping off the past few days, they were sleeping off weeks of anxiety and anger over Ixion’s return to life.

  The engine cut and the boat bumped into place along the dock. Tremaine hauled herself to her feet as the pilot and the other sailor scrambled out to tie it off. Calit climbed out immediately, standing on the stone dock, surveying the boats with their colorful sails and the eyes painted onto the hulls. Tremaine clambered out, feeling old. The woman pilot was looking around too. “I haven’t been ashore here before,” she said to Tremaine. Her hair was carefully tucked up under her cap and she looked as young as Florian. Possibly because she was as young as Florian. “The others said the natives don’t bother you.”

  “They don’t,” Tremaine told her, shouldering her bag. Syprians had strict rules about how guests and visitors were treated, even guests and visitors who came in stinking curse-powered lifeboats. The other Rienish crews had been mostly ignored, except by the Andriens, but since the pilot was female she might get more polite attention. “There might be marriage proposals.”

  Unexpectedly, the girl laughed. “Like Kias? I can handle that.”

  Tremaine snorted in amusement. “Yes, he does get around.” She steered Calit up the dock. Gyan had reported that the boy seemed to be doing better on the Ravenna. They had taught him a smattering of Syrnaic and Rienish, though he didn’t have the same gift for languages as most of the Syprians. He had been sleeping in his bed instead of under it, and the only worrisome symptom was a tendency to overeat, which Gyan wisely attributed to an early life spent not knowing where his next meal was coming from. However Gyan was handling the situation, it seemed to be agreeable to Calit. When Tremaine had asked him if he wanted to stay with Gyan for a while, the boy had actually looked enthusiastic.

  They reached the lawgiver’s house, were let inside by Sanior, and Tremaine waited in the atrium for Visolela to appear while Calit fished for shiny rocks on the bottom of the reflecting pool. Tremaine could smell the grainy porridge Syprians preferred for breakfast and it was making her stomach rumble. She was beginning to wonder if it was a mite early for a meeting when Visolela appeared, wrapped in a dark purple stole, and demanded wearily, “What now?”

  Before Tremaine could answer, Nicanor came out, his dark hair still mussed with sleep and dressed in a silky dark red robe. He said, “There’s trouble?”

  He must have arrived late last night. “No,” Tremaine said hastily. “Actually there’s news, good news for once. Ixion won’t be back. He’s taken care of—permanently.” She didn’t want to give specifics, in case Giliead wanted to tell them the story himself. “Also, I wanted to ask you something. I’d like to buy the house.”

  Still startled by the news about Ixion, Visolela frowned in confusion. “What?”

  “I need a place for the Aelin to stay.” She decided not to mention Ilias and Giliead and other assorted Andriens who might also be occupying it eventually. “I don’t have time to look for anywhere else, so I wanted to buy the one you loaned us.” She pulled open the leather flap of the bag, fishing through Calit’s possessions for the wallet she had retrieved from the ship’s safe this morning.

  Nicanor’s brows lifted when Tremaine produced the handful of gold coins. Syprians didn’t use gold coinage but they traded it to foreign merchants. She had no idea what a house of that size in Cineth was worth; her only reference point was that she had paid three gold Rienish reals for Ilias. From Nicanor’s expression she thought her guess might have been close enough.

  Visolela eyed the gold a moment, her brows drawing together. She said finally, “The house has a plot of land that goes with it, outside the city.”

  Tremaine inclined her head, and drew out five more coins.

  Visolela nodded. “Done.”

  The next stop was the new house. There was no deed to be filed; the lawgiver had to be notified and the change of ownership announced in the plaza on market day. Since Nicanor was the lawgiver, that was already accomplished, and he had agreed to arrange the announcement himself.

  Tremaine found the front door open and Gyan, Kias, Gyan’s foster daughter Dyani and all the Aelin sitting down to breakfast in the atrium. Before Tremaine could open her mouth, Dyani yelled with delight, jumped up and flung herself on her. “You’re back! Everyone thought you might leave without stopping here.” Davret and the other Aelin waved delightedly and called greetings.

  Tremaine staggered under the effusive welcome, feeling as if she didn’t deserve it. “Yes, I just came by to …I brought Calit to stay.” She prodded the boy forward. He was eyeing the Aelin children warily, though she didn’t think he recognized them as his own people.

  Gyan smiled at her. “Dyani, don’t hang on Tremaine’s neck. Have you had breakfast yet?”

  “Not yet, and it smells wonderful.” She took a seat on the sparse grass next to Gyan and accepted the plate and cup Kias brought. Calit got handed a plate by one of the Aelin women and plopped
down next to Kias, still eyeing the other children with uneasy fascination.

  Breakfast was porridge sweetened by dark sticky honey and bread. Tremaine ate half of it before she managed to say conversationally, “I bought this house for you all.”

  Gyan blinked. “What?” Dyani looked up, startled, and even Kias stopped eating to listen.

  She shrugged, feeling incredibly self-conscious. “You know, Giliead told Karima he won’t be living at Andrien House, so we don’t have anywhere to stay when we’re in town. And the village got burned down, and everything. So stay here as long as you want, or while it’s safe in Cineth, anyway, and if you could keep an eye on them, and help them get out of here if the Gardier attack again.” She nodded at the Aelin, who were unable to follow the Syrnaic conversation and were talking among themselves.

  Gyan watched her for a moment, then smiled, his eyes warm. “That was very well done. We’ll stay.”

  “Oh, good.” Tremaine cleared her throat. She switched to Aelin to say, “Obelin, this house belongs to me now, and you can all stay here as long as you want. There may still be Gardier attacks, but while it’s safe to be in town, you can stay here.”

  The old man looked at the others, got a consensus of nods and told her, “We would be honored to stay here, and to give you any help that we can.”

  After breakfast, Tremaine sat in the sun in the atrium, nursing a second cup of tea, mentally gearing up to return to the ship. She needed to prepare for the trip to Ile-Rien, to change clothes and to renew her supply of ammunition. And say good-bye. She took a deep breath, feeling her stomach tighten with anxiety. These things are easier when you’re suddenly flung into them. She knew a part of it was that she didn’t want to see what the Gardier had done to Ile-Rien. At least we’ll be in Rel and Lodun, and not Vienne.