The Gate of Gods (Fall of the Ile-Rien) (33 page)

Giliead nodded slowly. “The god can only reject me once.”

Ilias swore, shaking his head, though he supposed Giliead was right. Giliead gave him a quick smile and ruffled his hair, telling him not to worry. Ilias glared at him, planning to worry anyway.

Giliead started to speak, then flinched, turning to face the other end of the chamber. Alerted, Ilias looked back in time to see Tremaine and Gerard reappear in their circle. He took a sharp breath in relief. In the puff of foreign air that had come with them he caught the strong scent of the sea and a lingering foul odor that was oddly familiar.

“We found the island!” Tremaine called out. “The Isle of Storms. There’s a circle, hidden in a blocked-off part of the city—”

Ilias stared; he thought he had been prepared for anything. He looked at Giliead. “Did you hear that?” The island was only half a day’s sail from the mainland, from Andrien, from Cineth. From the god. Now they were nearly home, and he wasn’t ready.

“I never thought I’d be glad to see that place again,” Gerard was saying.

“Me neither,” Tremaine told him, stepping out of the circle. “Hey, Gerard and I were trying to think if we should all go to the island immediately, or wait until we can send to Cineth for some help and—” He saw her face change abruptly as she took in the dead Gardier, the live Gardier prisoners, and the wounded Aelin. “Go immediately, right.”

They scrambled to gather their supplies and Giliead carried the injured Elon to the circle, while Cimarus brought the still-unconscious Meretrisa. The Aelin, frightened and shaken, didn’t have to be persuaded to leave their belongings in the flying whale behind. Obelin spoke to Tremaine, who translated, “He says now he sees what we mean about the Gardier.”

They all barely fit in the circle. Tucking an Aelin girl in behind him, Ilias found himself standing next to Balin. Her eyes were intent, and he knew she was thinking of bolting at the last instant. “Go ahead,” he told her, though she wouldn’t understand the words. She looked at him, her pale eyes as startled as if a goat had spoken to her. “Run from the truth.” She had seen these people, heard their story, and seen what her own people were willing to do to them; she had to realize she had been lied to or she was a bigger fool than all the other Gardier put together.

Balin tensed, then subsided.

The chamber winked out, darkness closing in abruptly. Ilias winced in anticipation and the smell hit him an instant later.
This is the Isle of Storms, all right,
he thought in relief. Nothing produced that odor like generations of death and curses and putrefaction.

Over the startled murmurs of the Aelin, Giliead turned to Gerard. “They can hear us using these circles. They were listening for it, and when you used this one, they knew it. They weren’t sure exactly where we were, but they were close.”

Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Gerard nodded slowly. “I very much believe you’re right.”

T
remaine sat on a rock on the cave’s little beach, watching Aras examine what was left of the sailboat while Gerard paced. His boots crunching on the gravelly sand, he muttered, “I don’t understand this. I can see how they’re able to detect etheric gateways opening nearby when we use the mobile gates. Opening one in the same area several times again, or moving something the size of the
Ravenna
through even once, will cause a huge etheric disturbance. Yet they were able to track us through the point-to-point gates.”

Tremaine nodded. “So the Gardier were at another junction, listening or whatever it is they do, waiting until we used a point-to-point circle again so they could narrow their search down.”

Gerard gestured helplessly. “At least this makes it less likely that they captured a copy of the new circle Arisilde gave us.”

“Wait, wait.” Tremaine wearily pushed her lank hair out of her face. After so many hours without real sleep she was beginning to fade, and nothing was making much sense anymore. “We know Meretrisa told Gardier spies about it in Capistown—”

Aras, thoughtfully kicking the boat’s battered hull, looked up, affronted. “We know no such thing. There is no proof against Meretrisa but your word. No one associated with the Ministry would be so disloyal.”

Gerard stopped pacing to regard him silently. Tremaine lifted a brow. Aras eyed them both, realized he had called Tremaine a liar, and said, “I meant only that this supposedly happened right before you were attacked and injured.”

Tremaine rolled her eyes, saying dryly, “Because I’m so hysterical.”

“I didn’t say that.” Aras gestured, sounding reasonable. “Perhaps she did say something of the kind to you, but it was part of a misguided attempt to draw out these Gardier spies.”

Gerard stared wearily at the ceiling, apparently unable to comment. Tremaine thought she understood Aras now. He was one of those lucky individuals for whom the whole world was painted in black and white, with no shades of gray. Meretrisa was a Capidaran and therefore on the side of right and so nothing she did could be wrong. There was no point in antagonizing her own intelligence and Gerard’s patience by attempting to discuss this with Aras. One of them would just end up killing him.

The Aelin, at least, had finally settled down after Gerard had tended their wounded. Elon was now resting comfortably, or as comfortably as Meretrisa, up in the circle chamber with Vervane. The Gardier attack and the swiftness of their escape from the fortress had left most of the Aelin stunned, though the younger ones had wanted to explore the island. Fortunately, Ilias had found a heap of howler skeletons in the jungle not far from the little stone house that sheltered the top of the stairwell, and that had firmly convinced them that roaming was a bad idea. Balin sat nearby on another rock, her head propped in her hands, half-asleep herself.

Cletia, on guard up at the surface entrance, was the only Syprian still here at the moment. Ilias and Giliead had taken one of the underground ways to scout the Gardier base, to see if there was any unfriendly activity there. Cimarus had gone for help.

“I thought it took a few hours to sail to Andrien in the big galley,” Tremaine had asked dubiously earlier in the day, standing beside Ilias on the gravelly beach. She had thought at first they meant to repair the little sailboat and send Cimarus to the shore in that. “Isn’t that much longer in a little boat like this?”

“He doesn’t have to reach Andrien,” Ilias had explained, “Just get past the mist out to where the waterpeople are. Normally they love caves and rocks like these, but the island’s too wizard-haunted for them, and the curselings kill the babies and the old ones that can’t swim fast anymore.” He scratched his beard stubble thoughtfully, looking out over the mist-shrouded water, eyes distant. “I think he will need a raft, at least to get back.”

That was when it dawned on Tremaine that Cimarus would actually be swimming out to these waterpeople, to ask them to carry a message to Cineth. She had decided she didn’t want to know any more about it.

Even though Gerard had carefully copied a couple of key symbols off the circle, then used the sphere to burn them off the rock, Tremaine still didn’t feel safe. They didn’t know yet if the Gardier had had a chance to reestablish the base. With the invasion force moving across Ile-Rien and able to construct circles wherever they wanted, the Gardier didn’t need the island, except to keep the Rienish in the staging world off it. But Tremaine wouldn’t be able to stop her nerves from jangling until Ilias and Giliead returned.

Now Aras climbed out of the boat, dusting off his hands. “So we’ve been following the footsteps of your friend Arisilde in reverse. He found this circle on the island first, after he separated from Valiarde. He used it to go to the fortress, marked the circle he arrived in with a coat button, chose another—how?”

Tremaine looked up wearily. “Arisilde’s random choices aren’t as random as other people’s. He probably had a feeling that was the right one to take.”

“Yes,” Gerard agreed. “He was—is—rather known for that. So he arrived at the circle cave in the lower chamber of the mountain, didn’t bother to mark the circle because it was only one of seven.”

“But why did he put up the illusory wall?” Aras wondered, planting his hands on his hips.

“If he felt something was following him…” Tremaine hesitated. Following Arisilde’s thought processes had never been easy. She still thought he had planned, if he didn’t return himself, for Nicholas to follow him, and that he thought Nicholas would have easily found the trick of the false wall. “I bet the wall looked just as solid from the other side. Or he thought he might be leaving in a hurry and wanted to confuse pursuit.”

“He drew the arrow to let us know he went upstairs, and marked the circle again with a coat button and a note.” Gerard paused, took a deep breath. “So we know he didn’t arrive via the circle he gave us in Capistown, he left the mountain through it.” Gerard shook his head, pacing on the hard-packed sand. “All these new circles have to have two circles to work, one to leave from and one to arrive in. Once our copy of the circle in Capistown was destroyed by Nicholas to keep it out of Gardier hands, its counterpart in the mountain ceased to work. Yet the Gardier were able to arrive through it.”

Tremaine nodded, her mouth twisted grimly. “Because they came from the original counterpart. If it was broken until they realized we were using the circles, and they fixed it so they could come after us…”

Gerard lifted his brows. “And it may have been intentionally broken, because at one point a very powerful Rienish sorcerer came through it, and though he was injured and driven off, even if he left his body behind—”

“They weren’t sure where he was, if he was coming back.” Tremaine took a deep breath. “Now they know.”

I
t was sunset when Ilias and Giliead returned, the sky darkening to a stormy blue-gray past the perpetual mist and cloud cover that hung over the island. Cimarus had arrived an hour or so ago, bedraggled, though not drowned, and reported that he had encountered waterpeople out past the rocks, and that they had promised to take the message to Cineth. They were supposed to take it to Giliead’s father-in-law, Halian, but apparently they had a great deal of trouble recognizing individual humans, and would just tell every Syprian they encountered in Cineth harbor, so the message was bound to get to Halian eventually. Tremaine hoped “eventually” meant soon; there wasn’t much in the way of food or potable water on the island and they had a lot more mouths to feed now.

She went up the stone-cut steps to the surface to meet Ilias and Giliead, finding them in the little clearing just outside.

The stairs opened into a square shelter, dusty and empty, made of the long black stones that looked so much like logs. They showed no signs of mortar or anything else holding them into place except their own weight. Outside, the remnants of a small stone plaza were shielded by overhanging trees and vines, twisted and dark-leaved and faintly foul-smelling. His scabbarded sword propped on his shoulder, Ilias was telling Cletia, “Nothing there but howlers and bones. We didn’t go too far in—”

Tremaine came out of the shelter, violently shaking out her hair after an encounter with a cobweb, and Giliead summarized the situation with, “No Gardier, for now.”

Tremaine nodded. That was one small relief, anyway. The circle the Gardier had built in the base to transport their airships to Ile-Rien had been destroyed before they had left the island the first time; unless there were other ancient circles hidden somewhere, or unless an airship or sailing vessel arrived with another mobile circle, they were temporarily safe.
Right, keep telling yourself that.
At least there would be nothing to stop a Syprian ship from coming to their rescue and taking them back to Cineth where they could wait for the
Ravenna,
if she was still unscathed. And find out what had happened in Capistown. And tell the Capidarans about Meretrisa’s treachery, if Aras didn’t manage to squelch that. And tell the Syprians how Arites had been killed at the Wall Port. And Giliead could confront the god. Finding herself with the sudden need for outdoor air, no matter how unpleasant, Tremaine told Cletia, “I’ll take over for a while. Go get some rest.”

Cletia lifted her brows, then shook her head, grimacing a little. “I’ll stay out here. The cave smells like dead things.”

Giliead fixed her with a look that was slightly colder than the ruined ice city. He said pointedly, “You’ve been out here all day. Take a rest.”

Tremaine observed this thoughtfully. In Capistown, Ilias had been the one who had hated Cletia, so much so he could barely stand to have her at the house, while Giliead had been willing to bury the past and try to be friendly. Their roles seem to have reversed, and considering Cletia’s behavior in the fortress, Tremaine thought she had an inkling why.
Oh, good. Add that to the list.
Ilias, for his part, stared absently up at the sky through the blue-green canopy of leaves.

Cletia bridled, then glanced at Tremaine. Tremaine had meant to keep her expression noncommittal but had the feeling it had just slipped a little into something more dangerous. Cletia looked uncomfortable and retreated back into the cave without further comment.

Giliead threw Ilias what could only be described as a dark look and followed Cletia. Ilias rolled his eyes.

Tremaine sat down on a broken chunk of stone, by habit checking to make sure Gerard’s pistol was loaded. Ilias sat next to her, laying his sword across his knees. He shifted a waterskin off his shoulder and handed it to her. “We found a fresh stream, so we won’t lack for water, even if we’re stuck here for more than a few days.”

“Good. So what’s going on between you and Cletia?” Tremaine found herself asking, then realized she could have phrased it better. Fortunately, the connotations in Syrnaic weren’t quite as accusing as they were in Rienish.

“She apologized for acting the way she did, about the curse mark.” He shrugged, as if he hadn’t quite decided how he felt about it yet. “Nobody ever did that before.”

Tremaine felt a bitter twist in her stomach.
Very clever, Cletia. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.
What seemed a lifetime ago, Giliead had told her that Ilias wanted somewhere to belong, even before the curse mark. She could see how approval, from someone who had always withheld it, could be tempting. There wasn’t much she could say to that, so she changed the subject. “Is Giliead worried about the god?”

“No.” Ilias shook his head wearily, looking out over the darkening forest. “He’s leaving that to me.” He hesitated, frowning. “I’m beginning to wonder… When Ixion cursed me, and the curse went away when Gil cut his head off… We know now Ixion wasn’t really dead, no more than the wizards in the crystals are dead. I think it was Gil that made the curse go away, he just didn’t know he was doing it.”

Tremaine nodded slowly, trying to drag her attention away from her own problems and the half-formed plan to murder Cletia at the earliest opportunity. “He could have. Or you know, Ixion might not have been able to keep up any other spells when the one that sent him off to the new body in his vat was triggered.” She shrugged helplessly, fiddling with the waterskin. “At least we should have beaten the
Ravenna
here. Giliead can tell his side of it before Pasima can flap her big mouth.”

“That should help.” Ilias nodded, but he looked glum rather than reassured. “It’s just …I wish we knew what the god will do.” He propped his chin on his hand, poking at a tuft of grass with a stick. “I don’t suppose… if the god turns Giliead away, you’d want to marry him too?”

This statement caught Tremaine just taking a drink from the waterskin. She choked and sputtered, nearly dropping the skin. Wiping the water off her chin, she eyed Ilias, who was watching her hopefully. “Was that a yes or a no?” he asked.

Tremaine took a deep breath. Sometimes she forgot just how different Syprian attitudes toward marriage were. It added another world of complexity to her feelings for Ilias, which needed more complexity like Ile-Rien needed more Gardier. She held up a hand. “Let’s worry about that after we find out what the god does, all right? We’ll… think of something.”

Ilias subsided, poking at the grass again, obviously not satisfied. Tremaine could tell she had disappointed him.
What, you disappoint
someone?
she asked herself with a sardonic twist of her lips.
What a surprise.

T
he other chamber in the upper part of the sea cave had a canal running through it, and Giliead found Cletia there. She was retrieving one of the younger children, who had managed to fall in.