The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein)
Page 50
Tremaine shook her head at the ceiling. There’s no point to this. “That’s it.” She pushed between Ilias and Giliead, wrenched a chair around into the middle of the room, and sat down to yank off the boots she had borrowed from Pasima. Standing, she dropped them at the older woman’s feet. “Get out,” she said evenly. “Take your belongings, and your minions, and go. There’s plenty of empty rooms toward the stern.”
Pasima glowered at her, breathing hard. “This is none of your concern,” she grated. “And you do not give orders to me, foreign woman.”
Tremaine unexpectedly felt irritation bubble over into hot rage. She pinched the bridge of her nose until it hurt, until she could talk without screaming. Then she looked up slowly, meeting Pasima’s angry gaze. “You’re the foreigner here, woman, and I’m telling you to get out of this room.”
Pasima took a step toward her. Just try, Tremaine thought, coming up on the balls of her feet, feeling that rage blossom into a dangerous calm, Oh, do just try. You might win, but then you’d never draw an unguarded breath until the moment I put the knife in your back.
Tremaine didn’t know what her face told Pasima, but the other woman’s expression abruptly went wary, and she shifted back a step. Still watching Tremaine, she jerked her head.
Tremaine was conscious of the others moving, of Cletia standing, looking uncertainly at Pasima, of Cimarus avoiding everyone’s eyes as he walked to the door, of Sanior and Danias coming out of the back room carrying the packs and weapons they had brought. Pasima moved last. Leaving the boots on the floor, she stepped around Tremaine, careful not to cross the invisible line that marked the difference between defense and attack. She followed the others out.
No one else moved. Then Kias gave vent to a loud sigh, adding, “Thank the god, that’s a relief.”
Ilias had gotten cold feet about having sorcerous healing. Fortunately once he had lain down in the suite’s main bedroom he couldn’t get up again without help, so Tremaine just ignored his attempts to argue about it. Giliead just sat on the bed next to Ilias and looked weary. He seemed to have gone beyond anger at Pasima’s accusations and Ixion’s release and into a kind of exasperated anticipation of the next outrage. Gyan had taken charge of Calit, making the boy wash up, then going with him to the First Class dining room for some food.
Gerard arrived, bearing his black medical bag and two bottles of Gentian Great Marches ’09. Following him into the bedroom, Tremaine dug the corks out of both with her teeth and the letter opener from the writing desk. She gave one bottle to Giliead.
Gerard sat on the edge of the bed next to Ilias, who had curled up awkwardly around the pain in his side. Gerard regarded him and Giliead for a moment, then said carefully, “I was very sorry to hear about Arites. He was an intelligent and engaging young man.”
Giliead nodded, looking away, his jaw tight. Ilias was more occupied with eyeing the black medical bag Gerard had opened. “What’s in there?” he asked, suspicious.
Tremaine took a swig of the wine, feeling she needed a cushion between her and the rest of the world at the moment. A big cushion. “You know, Niles just knocked him out last time,” she pointed out. She had objected then, but right now she could see the benefits. Ilias glared at her.
“Yes, Niles’s bedside manner is why he’s considered an expert in etheric theory rather than medical sorcery,” Gerard said in a “thank you, I’m working now” tone, his manner turning brisk. “And considering the man had a Gardier crystal in him for a week without noticing, I think I prefer my methods.”
“What?” Ilias demanded incredulously. Giliead set the wine bottle down and stared at Tremaine.
“Uh, I hadn’t told them that part yet,” she said.
While Gerard took various powders and vials out of his bag, Tremaine explained about the small crystal and what it had done, and—fortunately—not done, to Niles. When she had finished, Giliead let his head fall back on the padded headboard and said in wonder, “That’s it, Pasima’s right. I’m terrible at this.”
“If you say that again—” Ilias growled, shoving himself upright only to collapse on the bed again with a gasp.
True to his word, Gerard didn’t make Ilias fall unconscious. But the adjurations for healing internal injuries were complicated and dull, and the heady smell of the incense and the herbal mixture he had to be talked into drinking made him drift off anyway.
When Gerard finished, Ilias was curled on his side on the gold bedcover, sound asleep, with Giliead watching him. Tremaine followed Gerard out into the main room, asking quietly, “Any idea what we’re supposed to do with the Gardier boy?”
He checked his bag, then tucked it under his arm. “It turns out that under the International Accords of Warfare treaty, we’re not allowed to take children as prisoners of war, so technically, you kidnapped him. Averi said he won’t press charges.”
Tremaine’s jaw dropped. “Did I miss the part where the Gardier became signatories to the International Accords of Warfare treaty?”
“No, but we, the Parscians and the Capidarans are,” Gerard said with an ironic nod. He added more seriously, “I’m sure the boy will be questioned about Gardier society, how they live, and so on, but he might as well stay with people he knows in the meantime.”
“People he knows,” Tremaine repeated. “His kidnappers.”
“Just so.”
She gave in for the moment. “Where’s Nicholas?”
“He’s still meeting with Averi and Delphane. The crystal has been removed from the airship and it’s been packed into that lead-lined box, under wards. The Ravenna can’t tow the airship—Captain Marais seems to think it would either be pulled down into the sea or end up impaled on one of our masts—so they’re going to select a volunteer crew and it will follow along behind us. Niles is going aboard with his sphere so he can make the gate to our world when the airship nears Capidara. He’s also going to provide some internal wards against fire and electrical failure, as Nicholas has advised us that this is likely to be a problem. It will only make about half our speed, so we should arrive well in time to keep the Capidarans from firing on it.” He sighed. “It’s also become obvious that the reason our first Gardier prisoners were killed was to keep them from revealing that this wasn’t their home world. Though now that we have that information…I’m not sure what we can do with it.”
Tremaine made a noncommittal noise. She followed him to the door. “Where are you going now?”
“Back to the hospital,” he told her grimly. “To make sure Ixion doesn’t kill anyone.”
They sailed two days without incident, the first of which Tremaine spent sleeping, bathing and eating. The suite was peaceful without Pasima and the others and without prompting, volunteers from the kitchens brought them meals on one of the old serving trolleys. Ilias was out of pain by the time he woke the first evening, and felt up to reminding Tremaine of a promise involving chocolate pastilles. The next morning Florian came for breakfast and stayed the rest of the day. She and Tremaine listened to the others tell stories about Arites. Florian cried and felt a little better afterward. Tremaine just wished she could.
Tremaine got occasional updates on Ixion’s status from Gerard, and what she heard wasn’t good. Ixion was being far too canny for her peace of mind. She was fairly sure this was something he had been aiming for since first waking on the ship.
On the third morning, the ship’s alarms sounded, all hatches were closed, sailors made sure everyone was off the outside decks and safely in their cabins. Then Arisilde made an etheric world-gate.
As before, the entire ship shuddered and jerked, making Tremaine’s stomach lurch. Someday, she thought with gritted teeth. Someday they’ll get the altitude right.
Sailing through the waters of her home world now, the Ravenna came within sight of Capidara in only an hour. Since Ilias still wasn’t allowed to climb stairs, Giliead was still too angry for outside company, and everyone else seemed to be occupied, Tremaine went up to the Sun Deck to
take in the view alone.
The wind was much cooler with a tinge of bite in it, and so far the vista was disappointing; she could just make out a dark line of rocky coastline on the horizon.
After a time Tremaine looked up to find Nicholas leaning on the railing next to her. He was wearing dark-colored dungarees and a gray pullover sweater. The clothes made him look younger, and also like one of the Chaire refugees, which was probably completely intentional. It didn’t look as if he had shaved since they had arrived on the Ravenna and she realized he was growing his beard and mustache back. She said, “You know beards aren’t fashionable in Vienne this year.”
“How tragic,” he said dryly.
They stood in silence for a while. More out of curiosity than anything else, she asked him, “Do you remember who you are in Capidara?”
“It’ll come back to me,” he replied easily. “Your friends are upset.”
“Yes.” She shifted, looking back out to sea. “Giliead said he won’t work for the Rienish anymore.” She let her breath out, suddenly willing to drop her sarcastic pose. “There might be trouble over it. I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.
Nicholas was silent a moment. Possibly shocked by her sudden attack of honesty. He said slowly, “Considering that he’s now my—” He cocked his head inquiringly. “He’s now my what, exactly?”
“Son-in-law’s foster brother,” she supplied, watching him carefully now.
“Ah. Considering he’s now my son-in-law’s foster brother, I would have to take exception to any attempt at coercion.”
Tremaine just nodded, looking down to conceal her relief. Everything aside, she had the strong feeling she was going to need help. Help to keep the people she cared about alive, Syprian and Rienish both, whether they were currently speaking to each other or not. “Good. I don’t think Delphane and the others realize how dangerous Ixion is.”
“It’s hardly surprising.” Nicholas regarded the distant shore of Capidara with a faint smile. “They don’t realize how dangerous we are, either.”
Author’s Note
The Queen Ravenna is loosely modeled on the Queen Mary, a Cunard passenger liner that made her first voyage in 1936. The Queen Mary is larger than the Titanic and survived World War II as a troop transport and hospital ship, despite the $250,000 bounty placed on her by Adolf Hitler. She is now permanently docked, but extensive and ongoing restoration has returned much of her former Art Deco glory. She is still in use as a hotel and tourist attraction and can be visited at Long Beach, California.
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About the Author
MARTHA WELLS is the author of five previous novels—The Wizard Hunters, the first book of the Fall of Ile-Rien; The Element of Fire; City of Bones; Wheel of the Infinite; and The Death of the Necromancer, which was nominated for a Nebula Award. She lives in College Station, Texas, with her husband. You can visit her website at www.marthawells.com.
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Books by
Martha Wells
THE GATE OF GODS
THE SHIPS OF AIR
THE WIZARD HUNTERS
WHEEL OF THE INFINITE
THE DEATH OF THE NECROMANCER
CITY OF BONES
THE ELEMENT OF FIRE
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
THE SHIPS OF AIR. Copyright © 2004 by Martha Wells. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.
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