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

by Martha Wells

  “I was spying on the Gardier, what did you think I was doing?” Nicholas’s dry voice was annoyed.

  “I thought you were dead, obviously, the more fool me.” It came to Tremaine that Morane was, in his own way, nearly giddy with relief at seeing Nicholas. “Where are you all going, by the way? Not Parscia or Bisra, as I presume you came from there.”

  “We came from Capidara,” Nicholas said. There was something in his voice Tremaine couldn’t quite define, but it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. “We’re going to Lodun.”

  Reynard hit the brakes and the big touring car slammed to a halt. Tremaine, clutching Giliead’s arm to keep from smashing her face into the front bench, saw Morane staring at Nicholas. “The Ravenna,” Morane said, his voice quiet but with a suppressed emotion underneath that made Tremaine’s breath catch in her throat. “She made it.”

  “And now she’s back,” Nicholas said, and this time Tremaine recognized the tone in his voice. It was pure menace, and pure certainty, all at once. “With a vengeance.”

  Morane drove out of the city, past the outskirts of deserted houses and commercial buildings, some of them burned-out shells, passing automobiles and trucks abandoned by the side of the road. Despite the darkness, Tremaine could tell some of the fires were recent; the bitter smell of smoke still hung in the air. When the fields and deserted estates gave way to heavy woods, Morane took an old farm track off the main road and followed it until they were deep into the forest. The heavy touring car took the ruts in stride, rumbling over every obstacle easily. He pulled off the road finally, into the deep shadow under a stand of big pines, the tires crackling on fallen cones and needles.

  As soon as the engine cut, Ilias bailed out and staggered into the shadows to be ill in private. More dignified, Giliead climbed out slowly and walked deliberately over to lean weakly against the nearest tree.

  “The illusion will keep anyone from seeing the car lamps, from above or from the road,” Gerard was saying. “It’s more complicated than the charm that conceals people, so it will take some time to cast.”

  On the way out of Vienne, Morane had told them that they could take the automobile, that he could find another one to get back to town. “We have something for you in return,” Nicholas had told him. “A handy tool for a sorcerer, if you have one.”

  “At the moment I’ve got a frightening old biddy of a hedgewitch and an octogenarian Aderassi academic, so any help would be greatly appreciated.” Morane had thrown a glance at Nicholas, causing the motorcar to sway dangerously close to a wrecked omnibus. “I presume Gerard has been constructing more Viller spheres? If you’ve got a spare one for me, I’ll kiss you.”

  “If he stops this thing,” Ilias muttered in Syrnaic, from somewhere close to the floorboards, “I’ll do anything anybody wants.”

  “Take deep breaths,” Tremaine advised. Giliead, who hadn’t moved except to brace himself against the motorcar’s sway, reached down to sympathetically ruffle Ilias’s hair.

  “Tremaine’s married,” Nicholas told Morane, as if he expected the news to shock him as much as it apparently had Nicholas.

  “Is she?” Morane was startled. “Good God, I’m old.”

  Now, standing in the dark quiet clearing, Tremaine watched from a little distance as Gerard circled the touring car with the sphere, weaving the illusion. Behind her, Morane said quietly to Nicholas, “You realized there was a strong possibility Madame Cusard’s group was compromised, of course.”

  “Of course. I hope she used this opportunity to pick out the traitor.”

  “I’m hoping for good news when I get back. I hope it’s not Berganmot’s boy—we could use another sorcerer, even a half-trained one.” Morane was still looking at Nicholas, and in the dim light Tremaine saw him shake his head suddenly.

  So did Nicholas. “Don’t get sentimental,” he said, but he had a smile in his voice.

  “Bastard,” Reynard retorted, sounding fond. He looked away for a moment, regaining his composure, then continued, “If you’ve got maps, I can mark a path that should keep you out of the way of the major Gardier occupation areas. They’re keeping to the cities, ignoring the countryside, for the most part. But one of the last reports we had was that a large Gardier detachment was bypassing Vienne and was apparently headed straight for Lodun.”

  Nicholas nodded, taking a folded map out of the inside pocket of his coat. “That’s not surprising. They have a use for the sorcerers there.”

  Tremaine turned away, not wanting to hear it again. Reynard Morane had stayed here by choice, to fight this to the bitter end, and she hadn’t. She found Ilias, who had recovered enough to walk a perimeter of the clearing, sword propped on his shoulder. She thought Giliead might be scouting further off in the trees, nearly invisible in the shadows. She paced Ilias long enough to say quietly, “Watch out for fay.” They didn’t usually come this close to Vienne, but all the chaos and the lack of sorcerers would surely attract them.

  He tilted his head, telling her he didn’t understand the word, and she clarified, “Like curselings. They can’t stand cold iron.” His sword and her pistol both qualified.

  He nodded, and knowing she was making too much noise, she returned to the others. Morane had found a reasonably flat spot of ground to spread the map and was using a small pocket torch to see as he carefully marked a route with a pen.

  Tremaine stood beside Nicholas. The light was reflecting off the map just enough for her to see his expression clearly, and she caught an unguarded look on his face. “You want to stay here, don’t you?” she asked him. She could understand it. Reynard’s information would give them a mostly clear path to Lodun. Getting there, and making the circle once they were within range of the town, was all Gerard’s job, and she, Ilias and Giliead were more than enough to guard him while he did it. Nicholas’s talents would be wasted. He belonged here in Vienne, where he could gather the threads of the organization that Reynard and the Cusards had kept alive and pull them back into a deadly web. “You should stay. We can handle it from here.”

  The unguarded expression disappeared. Nicholas said dryly, “Why, thank you for your permission, Tremaine.”

  Tremaine made a derisive noise, unimpressed. “Somebody’s got to give you permission, if you won’t give it to yourself.” She shook her head. “Knowing Arisilde, he probably sent us here because he had a feeling this would happen. Maybe he didn’t know that we would run into Captain Morane, but he knew that things would go better for us if he sent us here and not to Port Rel. If he did, and this is it, you can’t waste that.”

  Still carefully marking the map, Reynard said, “She’s right, Nic.”

  Nicholas didn’t reply. The forest was intensely quiet, not even a wind stirring the trees. The small sounds of Gerard’s spellcasting and the scratch of Reynard’s pen on the waxed map paper seemed loud by contrast. Ilias and Giliead, moving through the brush not so far away, were entirely silent. Tremaine felt they should have been able to hear something from the city, even out here, but there was nothing. As if it had been wiped from the face of the earth. Then Nicholas said, “I should never have left Arisilde alone.”

  He sounded regretful, guilty. Hearing Nicholas express guilt was unexpected, but Tremaine didn’t need to think about her response. She countered, “I’m not Arisilde.”

  Reynard glanced up at her, his face lined and drawn in the torchlight, and gave her a quick wink. Nicholas looked away a little. “What?” Tremaine demanded suspiciously.

  “By God, you’re all grown up.” Nicholas shook his head, almost wryly. “And your mother predicted I’d kill you by your next birthday.”

  Tremaine went still, staring blankly. She didn’t want to hear what her mother had said to Nicholas on her deathbed. She wasn’t ready for that. Or at least, she had never been ready before, not that he had ever demonstrated any inclination to tell her. Morane had paused now to watch Nicholas too. Uneasily fascinated, she asked, “Did she really say that?”

 
He threw her that opaque look again, but instead of dodging the question, he said, “It was in the nature of a challenge to me, to make sure I’d feel sufficient motivation to take care of you. It was part of the way we always spoke to one another.”

  Tremaine realized she had her arms wrapped around herself under her coat. She dragged the subject firmly back where it belonged. “So, will you stay?”

  Nicholas looked into the distance, his eyes narrowing. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

  Chapter 17

  You were awfully quiet around Morane,” Tremaine said to Gerard, sometime later. It was late into the night and she was driving the touring car, its lamps illuminating the dirt road ahead. They were cutting around the edge of a large forest, the trees just half-sensed shadows towering on either side of the road. They had been driving for hours, and the last time Gerard had consulted the map, he had estimated that they were about halfway there.

  So far they had spotted the lights of three distant airships, but Gerard’s illusion had held and none had demonstrated any sign of noticing the automobile’s lamps. The route Morane had outlined bypassed any villages or small towns that might hold Gardier troops or spies, so except for the airships, they might have been traveling through deserted country. Dead country, Tremaine thought, remembering the ancient ruins around the circle cave, and the ice city. Maybe someday in the future more travelers would come through a gate circle and find the ruins of Vienne. That’s right, cheer yourself up, she thought dryly.

  It was too dark to reliably read expressions, but at the other end of the front bench, she heard Gerard shift uncomfortably. “Was I?” He sounded casual. “I don’t recall.”

  Ah ha. Tremaine lifted a brow. “I recall.” About the only thing Gerard had said was a brief explanation of how to use the sphere for Reynard to pass along to his sorcerers.

  Ilias was in the back, curled up in the corner asleep, apparently as a defense against nausea. Giliead seemed to have gotten used to the motion; now he shifted forward, leaning against the back of the front bench to listen.

  Gerard sighed in annoyance. “I met him many years ago. And as I told you before, I knew he and your father knew each other, but I wasn’t sure of the extent of their connection, though I had my suspicions.”

  “And?” Tremaine prompted inexorably.

  She could feel him glaring at her. “All right, fine. When I was a very young man, I used my magical talent for confidence games.”

  “You what?” Tremaine’s jaw dropped. She stared at him in the dark, until Giliead prompted, “Ah, the road?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Tremaine steered away from the approaching ditch. “You did what?” she asked Gerard again.

  “I was foolish, I had no money, and I was… somewhat unscrupulous,” Gerard admitted reluctantly.

  “Really.” Tremaine bit her lip, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice, but she didn’t think she succeeded.

  Gerard continued, speaking through gritted teeth. “Unfortunately—or fortunately, as it turned out—I attempted this on a man I did not realize was Reynard Morane. He was in the Queen’s service at that time, but this was before he became Captain of the Queen’s Guard, so he wasn’t well known. At least in my circle of acquaintance. He caught me out, of course, but instead of turning me in to the Magistrates, he took me to your father. Nicholas offered to pay for my education at Lodun if I would work for him after I became more proficient.” He added, grimly, “Are you happy now?”

  Tremaine was flashing back to Nicholas telling her Gerard was not chosen as your guardian for his status as a paragon of propriety. “I’m ecstatic,” she told him.

  Gerard fumed in silence for a moment, then said deliberately, “At this point in time, when the entire fate of Lodun is resting on my jury-rigged spell, I really don’t need any reminders of my insalubrious past.”

  “Oh.” Well, if he puts it that way. She heard Giliead shift uncomfortably and knew he was about to ask for a definition of insalubrious. She firmly changed the subject.

  They stopped just as dawn broke to let Gerard adjust the illusion for daylight. Tremaine had pulled the motorcar off under an old railroad bridge so Gerard could alter the illusion without worrying about an airship suddenly passing overhead. Gerard had pointed out that the lead in the bridge would help block any etheric vibrations and hopefully keep any Gardier sorcerer crystals from noticing their presence. The spot was also sheltered by low hills crowned with sycamore, oak and ash trees, the leaves turned to a whole spectrum of reds and yellows by the fall and the early-morning light.

  The night’s cold had gathered under the bridge, ground mist floating spectrally over the grass. Ilias and Giliead were pacing the dusty ground with the impatience of caged animals, cramped from the long time in the automobile. Tremaine’s stomach was grumbling so she dug some dried fruit and tinned meat out of their supply pack. Giliead accepted some fruit with a faint expression of distaste but Ilias just shuddered and looked away.

  Driving at night, far from Vienne’s dangerous environs, had lulled Tremaine into a sense of security. The dawn revealed they were about to enter the area of gently rolling hills and open fields that surrounded Lodun, and the automobile seemed huge and obvious on the wide dirt road. They had also come to the end of Reynard’s recent information on Gardier troop movements near Lodun. The map also didn’t show many of the little country lanes that would be safer than the main roads; fortunately, Gerard knew the area well enough to navigate it. Still, the danger of staying near any road at all had increased a hundredfold.

  Ilias thought so too. “We should leave it,” he told her, arms folded as he watched Gerard circle the touring car. “We can run the rest of the way.”

  Tremaine rolled her eyes. She had been obsessively studying the map to see how much further they could safely go, and knew just how far away the town still was. “You two could run. Gerard and I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” Ilias glanced at her, frowning. “Seriously?”

  “It’s easy,” Giliead added encouragingly, “You just pace yourself.”

  Having seen the amount of ground Syprians could cover on foot on the way to the Gardier stronghold of Maton-devara, Tremaine knew the two of them could probably go cross-country and reach Lodun before the touring car. The fact that it would be infinitely safer just made it more annoying that Tremaine couldn’t do it. “Just stop it, all right? We’re not running.” She could feel them exchanging a look over her head but ignored it.

  “That’s done,” Gerard said, tucking the sphere back into the bag. He threw a worried glance up at the sky. “Let’s get moving.”

  They drove for another hour and counted six airships, the black predatory shapes clearly outlined against the gradually lightening sky. “That’s more than we’ve seen all night,” Gerard said, worried. “Averi was right, they must be getting ready to move on Lodun.”

  “If they’re moving troops into the area, at least it means that they’re expecting resistance,” Tremaine put in. The fields to either side were fallow, though whether their owners were still alive to replant in the spring was debatable. They were neatly divided off by low mounds planted with stands of trees, and Tremaine had seen an occasional farmhouse or outbuilding in the distance, though there was no sign of chimney smoke or other indications of life. Now the rutted road was curving up to the top of a low hill, crowned by a stand of oaks. “They must know the people inside aren’t all dead.”

  Gerard flicked a wry look at her. “Your brand of optimism is truly unique.”

  “People keep telling me that and I have no idea why— Shit.” As the car topped the hill, Tremaine saw a long section of road, cutting through fields and running alongside a wide streambed. Also revealed were six large trucks, one of which had its hood propped open and its engine issuing puffs of steam. Milling around them were dozens and dozens of Gardier, their brown uniforms plain under the bright morning light.

  Slamming on the breaks would just make noise;Tremaine let the car drift gently
to a halt on the side of the road, in the shadow of one of the leaning oaks. She saw the trucks had been looted on the Gardier’s progress through Ile-Rien; one had side panels with the name of a Vienne furniture factory, another had the open sides of a truck meant to haul livestock.

  “Get out or stay with the wagon?” Giliead asked quietly in the appalled silence.

  “Stay in the car,” Gerard said. “The illusion is tied to it. If we climb out here, they might see us.”

  “Right,” Tremaine muttered. She shifted into reverse, felt the gears grind in the big metal body, and carefully backed out of sight.

  There was a collective breath of relief as the hill rose up between them and the Gardier. Tremaine put the brake on as Ilias asked, “What about the gate curse? Are we close enough yet?”

  Gerard dug out his notes and consulted the map carefully. He thought about it for a moment, looking out the window, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Another few miles—it’ll mean the difference between success and disaster.”

  Tremaine nodded. Trying to make that distance in the automobile would mean backtracking for ten miles, probably more, and they had bypassed that alternate route because it went too close to the main road. It was time to abandon the touring car. “We can do that on foot. Everybody get out, I need to hide this thing.” Gerard had said earlier that the illusion wouldn’t last more than a few hours without being renewed, and she didn’t want the Gardier to wander back over the hill and suddenly notice a large black touring car that certainly hadn’t been there when they had come down the road earlier.

  The others bailed out and Tremaine released the brake, easing the big automobile down off the road and back through the ditch, between the oaks. Acorns cracked under the tires and she brought the car gently to rest deep in the grove. She cut the engine and climbed out. Hiding it completely would be better, but the next nearest stand of trees was too far across the field and the automobile would just become mired in the soft dirt and mud trying to reach it. Here, at least, if the Gardier found it they might assume they had passed it without noticing. If someone with a sorcerer crystal checked it for etheric traces, however, the game was over.