The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein) (30 page)

Giliead nodded, some of the tension leaving his body. “They all live?” he asked Gerard. “It didn’t kill anyone?”

Gerard glanced at him, his face still set. “We found two men dead, the soldiers posted at the outer door. They were in contact with the substance the longest.”

Giliead winced.

In the doorway someone stumbled, and Tremaine shoved in past him. Her eyes fell on them first, and Ilias saw the tightness in her face ease. He smiled faintly.

She came further in to stand next to them, resting one hand on Ilias’s shoulder. Her skin felt cold, and he had the urge to rub his cheek against her hand, but he didn’t think she would like that in front of strangers.

She snapped a question at Gerard, and he answered, shaking his head. She looked at Ilias and demanded in Syrnaic, “There were two of them?”

He shook his head, startled. “No.”

Giliead looked up, frowning. “We only saw one.”

This provoked another argument in Rienish as Gerard translated their answers to the others, then Niles and some of the guards hurriedly left the room. “What is it?” Ilias asked Tremaine worriedly.

She shook her head slightly, her brows drawn together. “I saw one too, on the other side of the hospital.”

“You may have seen the same one, before it came after her.” Gerard glanced at the Gardier woman, still huddled on the bed and watching them warily. “It was focused entirely on her?”

Giliead nodded. “It looked that way.”

Gerard eyed her speculatively. “You saved her life. Perhaps she’ll speak more readily now.”

They all looked at the Gardier woman. She couldn’t understand the Syrnaic or Rienish conversations but she obviously didn’t like the steady gaze of so many eyes. She spit at them.

Giliead snorted and looked away, but Ilias’s gaze went to Tremaine. She regarded the woman for a moment, apparently calm, but Ilias saw her eyes go flat. He lurched forward in time to catch her as she lunged for the Gardier. He got a hard elbow in the ear before Tremaine abruptly subsided. Ilias let her go, tense in case it was a ruse. The Gardier had at least had the sense to flinch, flattening herself back against the wall.

“Fine.” Tremaine straightened her sleeves, still watching the woman with a deadly calm. “Let’s get out of here.”

T
remaine led Ilias and Giliead to her hiding spot in the storeroom where Arisilde had appeared to her, to see if Giliead could tell if anything had really been there or not.

By the light of the open dispensary door, Ilias crouched down on the floor to examine the minute traces left in the dust. Giliead just shook his head. “If he was here, he didn’t leave anything behind him. But gods don’t volunteer information for no reason. If he told you he couldn’t help us in this, he meant it.”

He’s not a god. I don’t think.
Tremaine rubbed her gritty eyes. She was far too weary to have a philosophical debate just now. “How do I know it wasn’t just a dream?”

“If it was a dream,” Giliead told her firmly, “you’d know.”

Now, sitting at a scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen’s First Class cold pantry and coffee service room, surrounded by cabinets and counters of stainless steel and nickel-chromium, it seemed very much like a dream. Tremaine propped her head in her hands, wishing the hard questions would all go away.

The kitchen volunteers were still around and she realized the threat of sorcerously poisoned food must have both offended and deeply worried the ones who had been chefs or restaurant workers in Ile-Rien. A group of them were in the next room now, discussing their original plan to serve some of the ship’s store of carefully hoarded beef tomorrow and if that was still a good idea. Tremaine had been living on coffee to the extent that the lingering odor of it from the giant urns along the wall had made her ill, so when one of the Aderassi volunteers had come in and wordlessly opened a couple of bottles of wine for them, she had almost been ready to kiss the man’s feet.

“Why didn’t it just spread that mist through the whole ship?” Ilias asked, cautiously taking another sip. It was different enough from the musty Syprian vintages that he had almost spit out his first mouthful, causing Tremaine to yelp with dismay and badly startling the kitchen staff in the next room.

Tremaine considered the question, massaging her temples. “I think it was afraid of Gerard and Niles and the sphere. It couldn’t fight all three of them. Maybe that’s why it wanted Bain Riand’s help, to take them on while it was finishing the Gardier off.” She shrugged, turning her glass around. “Gerard thinks it wasn’t a human sorcerer. That Riand was right, that it was some sort of construct or creature, with only limited abilities. Maybe it did get aboard at Chaire as a spy, but when it realized we had Gardier prisoners it broke cover to kill them.” And those prisoners must have known something important, even if they hadn’t realized it. As their best interrogator, using a combination of persistence and mild charms, Niles was going to continue to work on the Gardier woman tonight. Whatever she knew, they had to find it out.

Giliead, warned by Ilias’s choking fit, had been more cautious with the wine at first but was now putting away as much as Tremaine. He poured another glass, pausing to curiously examine what was to his eyes the enigmatic writing on the label. “Are we sure it’s dead?”

“I saw it disappear.” Ilias shrugged doubtfully. He admitted, “A body would have been nice. And you thought you saw another one?”

Tremaine nodded, gesturing helplessly. “I may have seen it just before it appeared to you. I’m not sure. Arisilde sounded like he was only talking about one person. He said ‘someone’s nasty spell.’” She recaptured the bottle for one last glass.

“But if this was a Gardier creature, I thought your curses wouldn’t work on it.” Giliead lifted his brows.

“Well, there’s that. But Arisilde’s spells do work, and he must have been helping with the banishing.” Tremaine swirled her glass, watching as the wine ran down the sides. Some hotel or Great House in Chaire must have decided that the contents of its cellar were better off going to the bottom on the
Ravenna
than being left for the Gardier. She wasn’t familiar with this winery, but the stuff had legs like a cabaret dancer and left a taste in her mouth like spring in the Marches and newly cut hay. Too bad the people who owned and worked the vineyards would die or flee, and the grapes would rot on the vine this summer. Only the headiness of the vintage made the poignant sting of that thought bearable. “I think—” She tried unsuccessfully to swallow a yawn. And she couldn’t remember what she had been about to say. “I think I can’t think anymore.”

They had left the kitchens and were in the C deck corridor when the general alarm blared from the ship’s loudspeaker.

G
erard heard the alarm sound as he and Niles reached the wheelhouse; Arisilde’s sphere had warned them minutes earlier. The steering cabin was dimly lit, so the helmsman could see out and the illumination wouldn’t betray the ship. Through the large array of windows the moon lit the sky and turned the sea to a rolling gray plane; for a moment Gerard couldn’t see what was wrong. Then an officer standing at the front of the room gestured hastily to the side door. “Out there, gentlemen.”

Captain Marais and two of the other officers were out on the starboard side wing, Marais watching something through field glasses. As Gerard stepped out the door with Niles at his heels, he saw the airship.

Instincts gained from living through far too many bombings in Vienne halted him in his tracks; it took a surprising effort to force himself from the illusory shelter of the wheelhouse and out onto the windswept wing.

“Yes,” Niles said ruefully from behind him, keeping his voice low. “That’s all we need tonight.”

The airship was still some distance away, a black shape outlined against the star-filled sky. The distinctive jagged fins and tail gave it a predatory appearance, especially in the dark; it was no wonder the Syprians had thought the things were giant avian beasts. The angle of the fins told Gerard it was pointed away from the ship and toward the distant rocky shadow of the Walls; any other detail was impossible to make out.

“The lookout spotted it a few moments ago,” one of the officers explained, glancing back at them as they approached. “It changed course at nearly the same moment, so it must have detected us.”

Gerard nodded grim assent. They knew the overhead concealment wards weren’t as effective when the ship was moving.

“It looks as if it’s turning away,” Niles pointed out with annoying calm. He had the sphere tucked under his arm, and Gerard could hear it still clicking angrily. The airship must be out of its immediate range; he didn’t think Arisilde would have waited for instructions to attack.

“It must have got some warning that we’re not an easy target.” Marais lowered the field glasses. “Where’s Colonel Averi?”

“Still down in the hospital.” Gerard knew Ilias and Giliead had destroyed an airship on the Gardier’s island base a few days before he and Tremaine and the others had arrived on the Pilot Boat. The sphere had destroyed another during an attack on the Andrien village and a third that had tried to escape the assault on the base. If this airship had received any communication from the island or from the Gardier who had escaped by boat, its crew had every reason to be cautious.

Niles shifted the rattling sphere to his other arm, saying thoughtfully, “It’s a pity we can’t capture it intact. But we can’t chance letting it escape.”

Gerard looked at him, startled. For years they had fled in terror from Gardier airships. Now…“Yes.” He smiled thinly. “We can’t let it escape.”

Captain Marais glanced back at them, the dark obscuring his expression, but the tone in his voice was approving. “I agree. But it’s too far ahead of us. We’re faster, but to avoid us all it need do is fly across the Walls. If it doesn’t, we can’t trust that it isn’t leading us into an ambush.”

“But if it thinks we’re running from it, it may turn back toward us,” the second officer pointed out, sounding intrigued.

Marais shook his head reluctantly. “We’d have to drop to half speed to let it catch us. I don’t want to take that risk.”

Count Delphane had commented that Marais thought he was in command of a battleship rather than an oversized excursion ferry, and Gerard was glad to see this evidence of caution. But he said slowly, “Unless they see us use an etheric gateway, and they turn back to try to detect our etheric signature.”

“Or to try to get close enough to attempt to use our spell circle to follow us.” Niles smiled to himself. “I like that.”

The second officer was nodding. “We’ve had to turn west far enough that we should be out of the Maiutans. And we won’t be there long enough for a Gardier patrol to find us.”

“Check our course,” Marais told him sharply. “Verify our position in relation to our world.” He lifted the field glasses again, adding dryly, “I’d rather not materialize in the middle of an island.”

T
remaine stopped to listen to the loudspeaker again. They had reached the main hall to find it deserted. The earlier announcement ordering everyone to leave the open decks and seal all outer doors and that the watertight doors belowdecks were closing was worrying, but there was no one to pry information out of.

“What does it say?” Ilias demanded in frustration. “It always talks too fast.”

“We’re making a gate,” she translated. “It—he said we’re going to gate back to our world, change course, then gate back here again. That means—”

“We’re setting a trap,” Giliead finished. “We must have come up on a Gardier ship. Or a flying whale.”

That’s it, I’ve got to see what’s going on,
Tremaine thought, determined. “This way.” She headed for the side doors, pushing through them and stepping onto the Promenade deck. The enclosed deck had a panoramic view of the sea and night sky through its large windows, stretching most of the length of the ship. Ilias and Giliead reached the windows first, looking for the airship, both nearly bonking their heads on the glass trying to see straight up.

No one else was on the Promenade; Tremaine thought they were not technically violating the order to stay inside, since the deck was enclosed, but she pushed the heavy door shut just in case, making sure the latches clicked. She went to join the men at the railing, studying the clear and for the moment empty moonlit sky. “The damn thing must be behind us.” She tapped her fingers on the railing, impatient and anxious. “So what the hell are we—”

Giliead stepped back, swearing and clasping a hand to his head as if something had struck him. Then between one blink and the next the deck was brilliant with daylight, the sea outside choppy under a cloud-streaked blue sky. The ship’s expansion joints creaked, a massive bass groan of complaint thrumming up through her metallic bones as the deck rolled violently; Tremaine bounced off the glass and banged into Ilias.

Holding the rail to keep her and himself upright, Ilias asked Giliead uneasily, “Are you all right? Was it the curse?”

“Yes.” Giliead caught the rail as the ship swayed back over, then began to roll into a turn. He was grimacing from the pain. “It caught me by surprise,” he said through gritted teeth.

“So you can feel an etheric gate open,” Tremaine said, holding on to Ilias and nervously watching the sea draw nearer as the ship leaned into its turn. “That might come in handy. If we live through the next five minutes,” she added tightly.

The deck tilted more sharply under their feet as the turn continued and Tremaine spared one hand for the rail, her palm sweaty on the polished wood, and Ilias tightened his hold around her waist. Her stomach informed her that she really should have had more dinner, or something besides wine to settle it.

The
Ravenna
swayed upright as the ship came about, strained metal emitting another heartfelt groan, the ship’s own voice protesting this abrupt handling. Ilias hissed between his teeth. Pressed against him, Tremaine could feel his heart pound. His hair brushed her cheek as he turned his head to say to Giliead, “That’s taking an awful chance. Remember when—”

“We capsized Agis’s fishing boat,” Giliead finished, sounding a little unnerved. “Vividly.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Tremaine muttered, but her imagination had already taken flight.
At least you closed that door
. All those outer doors on the passenger decks were heavy and thick, functioning as watertight hatches. But even if Gerard and Niles and Arisilde somehow managed to right a capsized
Ravenna
with sorcery before the ship sank, she didn’t think the Promenade’s windows would survive that first deadly roll. Ilias’s thoughts must have been along the same lines; he squeezed her waist and kissed her on the back of the head in a combination of reassurance and relief.

Tremaine forced her brain past the image of imminent disaster. The ship was steaming through the daylit sea now, roughly back the way they had come.
We’re home,
she thought, realizing it with surprise.
Sort of.
They were back in the ocean that lay between Ile-Rien and Capidara and not the strange foreign seas the Syprians sailed. “I wonder how long it will take—” The loudspeaker interrupted her with a brief warning. She translated it as, “Here we go again.” Giliead swore succinctly.

Tremaine felt the ship jerk and roll, as if the entire weight of it had skipped sideways. The Promenade was suddenly plunged into darkness. They were back in the Syprians’ world.

Giliead had a hand pressed against his temple, wincing. Ilias said grimly, “There it is.”

Tremaine followed his gaze, blinking as her eyes adjusted. A short distance off their bow the airship was outlined in sharp black silhouette against the moonlit sky. Giliead took a sharp breath. “Your god is about to—”

Red and orange blossomed under the black shape of the balloon. Tremaine heard the distant rattle of machine-gun fire, as the airship reacted to their sudden appearance, but it was too little and too late. She felt a certain savage satisfaction; she wished the Gardier woman locked up in the hospital or the Isolation Ward or wherever she was now could have seen it.
So it’s too late for us to win, but we can hurt you. We can hurt you almost as bad as you’ve hurt us.
“That’s another one down,” she said, mostly to herself. “How many to go?”