by Martha Wells
“Just sit there quietly,” Gerard told her with some asperity.
“Vervane got hurt too, go yell at her. Balin bit her, she probably needs a carbolic bath. And does this mean the Gardier captured the original circle, the one in the house? Or the notes on it you gave Niles? How else could they get here? I mean, there?”
Good questions, Ilias thought, looking at Gerard. Clearly not wanting to answer them now, the wizard said only, “It’s a possibility.”
Giliead glanced back at them. “We need to find a more defensive place to camp.”
Ilias nodded. This place was so big this room might as well have been an open field; he felt exposed, as if he had a target painted on him. All the circles, each one a potential open doorway for their enemies, didn’t help.
Gerard, already turning to go to Vervane and Meretrisa, paused to say, “Aras and I didn’t explore very far. The place looks deserted but we only glanced into a few of those other chambers. Take great care; we don’t know if the Gardier could get here through some alternate route, through another circle.”
Ilias pushed to his feet, asking Tremaine, “You’ll be all right?”
“Oh, sure.” She blinked up at him. “I think I’m going to sit here for a while.”
Ilias threw Cimarus a look that promised death if he didn’t keep a good watch, then paused to shed his coat; it was too warm here for it. He avoided Cletia’s gaze deliberately, knowing he needed to say something to her about her quickness with the bow. She had saved Tremaine, saved them all. But he couldn’t deal with it just now. Pulling his baldric back over his head, he followed Giliead across the giant space.
They made their way between the circles, heading for the nearest archway. Giliead had left behind his wool wrap as well, and took a deep breath of the warm air. “What happened?” he asked quietly.
Ilias shook his head. The narrowness of their escape made his skin creep. “They would have had all of us, just like that, but Tremaine was in the circle chamber. I heard her scream when they made her shooting weapon break. I took two with the sword before they knew I was there and Cletia got the others with a bow before the last one escaped.” It could have been Tremaine lying there instead of Meretrisa. That last Gardier could have taken Tremaine with him. The thought made him ill.
Giliead acknowledged what he hadn’t said with a grunt, looking bleak. “We were lucky.”
They reached the archway and got a view into the next chamber, and Ilias saw why Gerard and Aras had decided the place was deserted. This space wasn’t nearly so large, though the ceiling was still a good two ship’s lengths or so high and it was a long stretch to the next archway. There had been some kind of balcony along one side, but two of the supporting columns had collapsed, and the blocks that had formed it lay tumbled along the wall. No effort had been made to clear or repair anything and it all smelled damp and dusty and disused.
The openings slitted into the curved roof seemed to be everywhere, and the bright sunlight outside made it easy to see. The trickle of water falling led them through the next archway and into a smaller chamber that looked as if it had been carved right out of the blue-white rock. Water ran down a wall through a crack in the domed roof; the fact that it was caught in several carved stone basins before running out through a small drain in the floor made it obvious that it wasn’t natural. Ilias let the water run over his hand and tasted it cautiously. It was clear and sweet. He glanced around the room again, frowning. There was something …artificial about it. “Why did they want a room that looks like a cave?”
“Who knows.” Giliead made a helpless gesture, turning to investigate the smaller doorway that led off to the side. It turned out to be a corridor made to look like a rocky tunnel.
It had no openings in the roof and was dark, and one end ran only a short distance back the way they had come to the main circle chamber. But the other led to another larger room, dusty and empty, with more rooms beyond it. “This place is huge,” Giliead muttered, sitting on his heels and using his knife to scratch a careful trail sign on the floor.
“We can get the others into that rock room for now. It’s got water, and two doorways so we can’t get boxed in.” Ilias didn’t have a bad feeling about this place; it didn’t give off any feeling in particular, though its size was intimidating. He could see why Arisilde would have come here to investigate the circles, but searching for his oversubtle trail marks was going to be a chore. But he had never heard of a place like this in any story; the Wall Port had been an unthinkable distance from Cineth, but they had still heard tales of it.
Giliead nodded, pushing to his feet, his face weary. “We may be here a while. There’s a lot to explore.”
Ilias bit his lip, and had to say it out loud. “Do you think we’re any closer to home than we were in the mountains?”
Giliead looked around again, his mouth twisted wryly. He rested a hand on Ilias’s shoulder and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I have no idea.”
Florian found herself wandering the Ravenna’s main hall, where green marble columns flanked seating areas with couches and armchairs. The cherrywood-veneered walls were lined with the empty glass cases of the ship’s old shopping arcade. This late at night, the only people around were a few officers and some researchers from the Viller Institute, all on their way to some other part of the ship. She missed the livelier company of the refugees, who had filled up all the Ravenna’s silences and given the long corridors a sense of noisy community.
Florian pushed through the heavy doors out onto the Promenade deck, but it was unlit except for the dim reflection of moonlight on the sea, the large windows looking out onto the limitless expanse of dark water and sky, and she retreated quickly.
It was well after midnight by the time Niles had finally been persuaded to rest. After the encounter with Chandre and Ixion, he had gone back to the Second Class lounge and drawn the circle again, with Florian and Giaren’s help, with meticulous care. Again, it hadn’t worked.
Florian had been surprised when Giaren, normally rather diffident, had slammed a book down on the table and shouted angrily that Niles was going to kill himself and what good would that do their lost companions? Niles had gotten huffy but had grudgingly agreed to go to his cabin and try to sleep.
With the blackout curtains and dead-lights carefully fixed over the windows and portholes, the corridors quiet, Florian perversely felt wide-awake.
Poking around in the corridors between the main hall and the closed doors of the Observation Lounge, she found the First Class library unlocked. On impulse she went in, scanned the shelves quickly and selected a gothic novel, meaning to sit down in one of the upholstered leather chairs in the main hall and read. But after a few moments the quiet, broken only by the hiss of air through the ventilators and the creaks and groans and thrums of the ship, began to feel creepy rather than restful. Ixion’s here somewhere, Florian found herself thinking. Maybe not walking around loose, but would Lord Chandre’s men and the Capidarans really keep as close a guard on him as Colonel Averi’s men had? And she would bet he wasn’t being kept in the specially warded chamber anymore. And if Nicholas was right about Ixion taking an interest in her…
Gah, you’re going to make yourself crazy. She returned to the library, reshelving the gothic and instead taking a humorous story about the romantic adventures of a wine-bar dancer. She went out and down the passengers’ stairs, past the portrait of Queen Ravenna and the First Class Entrance Hall, the fine wood walls and the marble-tiled floor gleaming, and down to the smaller carpeted lounge where the steward’s office, paneled in sleek wood with etched-glass windows, took up one wall. It had once been a command post for Lady Aviler’s volunteers, but it was closed and dark now as well. Four large corridors led off from this lounge, two toward the bow and two toward the stern. She chose the one that led toward the First Class staterooms, hoping the Syprians would still be awake.
The quiet corridor stretched on forever, the distant end curving upward like an inverted
horizon. The doors she passed, all set back in small vestibules, were closed and quiet, and she wasn’t sure who, if anyone, was quartered here now. She tried not to succumb to the fear that something was about to dart out and grab her, but since something had, effectively, darted out and grabbed her on the voyage to Capidara, it wasn’t easy.
Florian reached the right little vestibule and knocked lightly on the door. It moved in the frame a little, as Tremaine had been too impatient to wait for a key when she had first appropriated the rooms and had got one of the Syprians to break the lock. To her relief she heard a stirring inside.
Gyan opened the door, brows lifting in anxious surprise. “Florian.” He studied her face a moment, then added ruefully, “I see you’re not coming to deliver good news.” He was an older man with a heavy build and a good-humored face, balding with a long fringe of gray hair.
“No,” she said regretfully as she followed him into the suite. It was all red and gold, with a deep tawny carpet and red drapes covering the portholes in the far wall of the sitting room. The lights, all of which were on as the Syprians refused to touch the switches, were frosted crystal lozenges set into the cherrywood-veneered walls. A few small pieces of rough wood lay on a delicate marquetry side table, along with a scatter of wood shavings and a little knife. One piece of wood was in the process of being carved into the head and neck of a sea serpent. “Nothing’s changed since this afternoon.” Florian dropped down onto one of the gold-upholstered couches, the book in her lap, and said wearily, “It’s so frustrating. I know we’re doing everything right. We’ve done it exactly the same way we did it in Capistown, and Niles and I and the other Rienish sorcerers have all tried it, but nothing happens.” She massaged her temples. “I know it’ll turn out to be something simple that we’re all overlooking.”
Gyan took the other chair, letting his breath out. He looked tired and worn, the lines at the corners of his eyes and his mouth deeper, his skin tinged with gray under his tan. He had lived in the Andrien village with his foster daughter Dyani before it had been destroyed by the Gardier, and had been sent along on their trip here to be the Andrien family’s diplomat, to counter Pasima’s influence. “I hope so. Using these curse circles to travel… It just seems like no good can come of it.”
At the moment Florian felt inclined to agree. She didn’t see how the plan to get inside the Lodun barrier could go forward without modifying the new circle, and since the new circle wouldn’t work, there seemed little point in that. And the others seemed to think Capidara hadn’t given them enough troops to do much of anything, even with the new spheres. She saw a couple of the polished wood bow cases sitting on the dining table and asked, “Pasima’s not here, is she?” Florian could do without being stared at accusingly.
Gyan made what looked like a warding gesture against the evil eye. “No, no, thank the god for that. She and Sanior and Danias moved down to the other room.” He shook his head, leaning back in the chair. “Sanior isn’t bad, he’s young yet, but Danias has never had a thought in his head Pasima didn’t put there. None of them took well to Cletia and Cimarus going off like they did, but of course it’s their own fault. Sanior did tell me Pasima didn’t like Cletia doing her own thinking where Gil was concerned.”
“I just hope… Oh, I don’t know.” Florian scrubbed her hands through her hair. She supposed she should find somewhere to sleep but she still felt too keyed up. And she knew her belongings had been transferred from the refugee hostel back to the ship, but had no idea where they had ended up. Probably in Niles and Gerard’s workroom, or locked up in the steward’s office. “I don’t mean to keep you up. Do you mind if I just sit here for a while?”
He got to his feet, gesturing around the room with a shrug. “Stay as long as you’d like. I’d prefer it if you’d quarter here with us. It’s a bit quiet with just Kias and me and the boy.”
“I’d like that,” Florian told him in relief.
Gyan smiled, ruffled her hair, and went back through the dining room to the rear of the suite. Florian curled up on the couch and tried to read but it took an act of deliberate concentration to keep her mind focused on the heroine’s adventures amid Vienne’s beau monde and demi monde. Especially since she knew many of the characters had been based on real people and some of them had been killed in the war. She kept wondering where the others were, what had happened to them. If the theaters and cafés and Great Houses mentioned were still standing or had been bombed or burned out of existence. Shifting restlessly on the couch, she heard nothing, but felt a breath of cooler air from the corridor, as if the door had drifted open.
She looked up to see Ixion standing not two paces away. He smiled down at her. “We meet again, flower.”
Cold shock washed over her, trickling down her spine like ice water. “What are you doing here?” Arisilde’s sphere, she thought, frantic. Niles had it, in his cabin. Telephone. It was across the room, on the built-in writing desk. Can I get to it? The crew was so overworked, it could take time to reach a ship’s operator. And Ixion wouldn’t just stand there and watch while she did it.
Studying her almost clinically, as if watching every thought pass through her head, he said, “I wanted to see you.” He still wore the well-tailored suit, and she could smell the faint scent of an expensive toilet water.
“You’ve seen me. Good-bye.” Florian tried to keep her voice even, cursing the fact that she sounded breathless rather than firm.
He lifted a brow. “You don’t scream for help?”
Her heart pounded, but she said, “I don’t need to scream. If you think Arisilde doesn’t know where you are, you’re mistaken.” Even if the sphere couldn’t communicate directly, it would sense Ixion’s presence. The thought let her set her jaw and regard him steadily. “Go away. Or tell me why you’re here, then go away.”
He strolled toward the open panel doors that led to the dining room, the bedrooms. Where Kias and Gyan and Calit were sleeping. “I can hear breathing. Shame if it were to stop.” He tilted his head, watching carefully for her reaction.
Florian pressed her lips together, making herself stay calm. Maybe screaming would have been a good idea.
Ixion shook his head, still smiling. “And Giliead and Ilias are trapped in some far place, by your own curse circles. How I laughed to hear that.”
She knew instinctively he wanted her to beg him to leave the others alone, and that begging wouldn’t do any good. Perhaps he wanted her to try to run for the telephone, to give him an excuse to attack. “Did you laugh about it in front of Lord Chandre?” Her voice came out at too high a pitch but the comment stopped him in the doorway.
He looked at her, head tilted slightly, intrigued. She pushed on, “You’ve got him fooled, I suppose. He thinks you’ll help us.”
He lifted a brow. “But I will help you, flower.” He moved back toward the center of the room, standing over her again. “I could help you make the recalcitrant curse circle work.” His smile turned kind. Or she would have thought it was kind, if she didn’t know what he was. “Bring your friends back.”
That startled her. Florian swallowed in a dry throat. If I thought that was true… What if it was? “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s simple, really. Something prevents the curse from completing itself.” He gestured with a shrug. “Remove it, and the circle will work.”
“What something?”
He shook his head sadly. “No, that’s not the way of it. We bargain.”
Florian eyed him. He’s lying. He has to be lying. Ixion didn’t know— shouldn’t know—anything about the circles. “And what do you want?”
“Nothing of moment. Your assistance.”
“In what?”
“In whatever I ask.” He lifted his brows at her expression. “Only small things, I assure you. You could tell me if they speak of me, in any of your councils.” He knelt suddenly, eye to eye with her. “You have power, but they neglect your teaching. When was the last time they let you perform a spell, o
r taught you a new one? They waste your talents in tasks any servant could do.”
“There’s no time—” She cut off the involuntary protest, biting her lip. He was doing something there, something so subtle… That he had echoed her own thoughts hadn’t helped. She looked away, flustered and guilty. But if she refused, she knew there was no telling what he would do. “I’ll think about it,” she said flatly, feeling like a traitor and a coward. “I’m not promising anything, just that I’ll think about it.”
He pushed to his feet just a shade too gracefully, reminding her again that that body was only a few months old at most. He gave her an ironic nod, as if he knew she was lying and was only playing along with her. “Think hard, flower, and think fast. If I become impatient, someone might die.”
Ixion walked out, as silently as he had arrived.
Florian sat there a moment, taking deep breaths. Her palms had sweated onto the cloth cover of the book and she set it aside, wiping her hands off on her pants, swearing in annoyance as she realized she was trembling. A sudden horrified thought struck. She scrambled to her feet and hurried through the dining room to the back of the suite, ramming her hip into the table as she passed. But even before she reached the main bedroom she heard the reassuring sound of soft snoring, and a glance inside showed her all was well.
Breathing a little easier, she went back to the sitting room and picked up the telephone receiver. After a few moments while she reflected that Ixion would have had leisure to kill her several times over had she tried this while he was here, one of the ship’s operators finally answered. She cleared her throat. “Can you connect me with Nicholas Valiarde, please?”
Chapter 9
So, you were right,” Florian said, stirring her coffee with frowning concentration as she finished telling Nicholas about Ixion’s visit. It was just before dawn and they were in the First Class dining room, at a table with Gyan, Kias and Calit. The giant room was paneled with goldtoned wood, with bands of silver and bronze along the top and bottom of the walls. There were private dining salons along the sides, separated from the main area by silvered glass panels, and blackout cloth was tightly tacked over the outside windows. Several dozen people were here now, officers and crew about to go on duty, men and women in Rienish navy uniforms, mostly concerned with the coffee and rolls being dispensed from serving trolleys near the baize doors. There were other civilians here too, mostly Viller Institute workers who had volunteered to return. The sea had been rough last night and everyone looked sick, weary or preoccupied, or all three. The ship would also be reaching the Walls of the World at some point late tonight or tomorrow, and they just had to hope the crossing would go smoothly. “I’m lucky I didn’t get us all killed,” Florian added, stabbing her spoon into the small supply of sugar. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid about Ixion.
