by Martha Wells
“Ilias, you’re the only one here who knows the caves. When we go back for the others, you can’t afford to be hurt.”
He looked down at her, desperation warring with relief in his eyes. She realized he hadn’t been sure if they meant to go back for the others or not. “Because we are going back,” she added. And I am, and I don’t care what I have to do. “We’re going back to kill every Gardier we can catch. But I need your help to do it.”
“Tell him it won’t hurt,” the nurse urged, glancing up from cleaning the cut on Ander’s head.
I can handle this, thanks, Tremaine thought, annoyed. “That’s not what he’s concerned about.”
Still watching her closely, Ilias said, “This is like what you and Florian did before, to my shoulder?”
“That was all Florian, but yes, like that,” Tremaine assured him, adding honestly, “except Niles is much better at it.”
Ilias hesitated, mouth twisted in reluctance. Then he nodded. Tremaine tugged on him, getting him to follow her back to a bunk and sit down. In Rienish she told Niles, “It’s all right now, he’ll let you do it.”
“Ah, yes.” Niles set the sphere aside on a table and approached, regarding his patient almost as warily as his patient was regarding him, but without the underlying layer of hostility.
“This is the first time I agreed to having a curse put on me,” Ilias said, easing away from Niles as the sorcerer sat down to examine his arm.
“It’s not a curse, it’s a spell,” she told him, having to use the Rienish word. “There’s a difference, really.” He was leaning against her, practically in her lap again, a situation the nurse was regarding with a startled eye. Tremaine wished the woman would pay more attention to Florian and Ander and mind her own damn business. To distract Ilias, she asked, “What curses were put on you? I promise not to put it in a play, unless it’s already in one.”
“It’s a long story.” He was trembling, either from nerves or cold or probably both. She tugged the borrowed coat back over his shoulders.
Niles probed his arm gently, frowning, watching Ilias for a reaction. “Tell your stoic friend he needs to let me know if it hurts.”
“Tell him if it hurts,” Tremaine urged.
“Ow,” Ilias said stolidly, his eyes never leaving the other man’s.
Tremaine wasn’t going to apologize for him, but she explained to Niles, “They really hate sorcerers where he comes from.”
“There are some I’m not particularly fond of either,” Niles said grimly. He glanced up from his examination. “Good, it’s a fracture; tell him I’m going to cause the bone to set and knit.” Niles’s face went still with concentration. “It’s a relatively simple spell,” he added, his voice going distant. “The bone wants to be whole. I just have to give it the ability.”
Tremaine didn’t think Ilias was interested in details right now. She knew Niles had started the healing already but she didn’t think Ilias was aware of that. “He’s about to fix it,” she translated.
Ilias took a sharp breath, blinked and shook his head, making a valiant effort to hold on to consciousness. He wavered back and forth, then folded over. Tremaine grabbed him as he slumped. “Did you do that?” she asked Niles accusingly.
“Yes.” The sorcerer kept him from falling forward and helped her ease him down on the bunk. “There are some ritual objects—just a bit of iron and a split reed—that have to be fixed to the injured area for a time to complete the spell, and I don’t want to have to argue with him about it. And the bones will knit more quickly if he’s not twitching around.”
“That was very high-handed of you, Niles,” Tremaine pointed out, deciding not to mention Florian had done the same thing by accident. Someone handed her a blanket and she tucked it around Ilias, brushing the damp hair off his face.
“Probably so,” Niles agreed. He eyed her determinedly. “Now, Tremaine, you are going to tell me where you’ve been and exactly what’s happened.”
“Explain it again,” Niles said firmly.
“No, Niles, no. I can’t tell you anything else.” Tremaine set the white china mug down on the table a little more firmly than necessary, raising a shaking hand to her brow. She was faking, but she was tired and she didn’t want to talk anymore.
They were in the infirmary, which had been converted from one of the hotel’s dining rooms and did double duty as the commissary. Standard-issue hospital cots and the smell of alcohol and ether contrasted oddly with the painted seascapes on the walls and the high figured ceiling. The parquet floor and the dark wood wainscoting were much the worse for water stains.
Ilias, Florian and Ander were in the part of the room closed off by white hospital screens. She knew Ilias was just sleeping off Niles’s healing spell, and Florian the effects of working with the sphere and inhaling too much water, but Ander... That was a hell of a knock on the head, she thought, looking worriedly toward the screens. The nurse and the army surgeon and a physician were talking quietly just on the other side, but she couldn’t tell how serious it was.
Besides the fact that she didn’t want him to die, she had counted on Ander’s help to go after the others. He had been in the caves, knew the situation, and his army intelligence background was perfect for this sort of thing. With some troops, Ilias’s knowledge of the passages, and Niles or another army sorcerer to back up the sphere, it would have been easy to take the undermanned base. Well, not easy. Easier. She was counting on the use of the Ravenna too, to move the spell circle out into the bay, to allow them to cross back over to the other world closer to the island, in a place the Gardier wouldn’t be waiting for them. Perhaps on the island itself if Niles could manage it. Ander would have been instrumental in gaining that advantage, too. Everyone would have listened to him.
Niles eyed her with dry skepticism. “It’s fortunate for your theater career that you were a playwright rather than an actress.”
Tremaine smiled thinly, but the fact that when he put his mind to it he was nobody’s fool was one of the reasons she liked him. She saluted him with her mug. “Points for Niles.”
Single-mindedly he ignored the tribute, persisting, “It’s impossible for the sphere to construct that translation spell. It would have had to ...” He gestured helplessly. “Record everything the natives—”
“Syprians.”
“—Syprians said like a dictaphone, to build a dictionary and a grammar, to plant the information in your minds—”
“But the Gardier translator must have had spells that did similar things,” Tremaine pointed out. “Like a dictionary of Rienish words and a grammar, and it took what we were saying and put it into the Gardier’s mind in his language—”
Niles shook his head, emphatic. “But even if it could have learned the spell from another ensorceled object, it couldn’t stitch a new spell together with bits of the old one just to answer a passing whim of yours—”
“It wasn’t a passing whim— I’d been wishing we could talk to them since we got the sphere back,” Tremaine interrupted, exasperated. “It must have been trying to work out that spell even before it got access to the translator. It just wasn’t until it had the chance to tap into Gerard and Florian’s magic that it could cast it.”
“But even the original spheres were useful only for defense. They didn’t originate actions.”
“This one interprets ‘defense’ a little differently.”
“But it couldn’t—”
“It couldn’t, but it did.” She shoved her ragged hair back impatiently. She had changed back into a tweed jacket and skirt, leaving her Syprian clothes to drip dry in her room in the hotel. Her wool blouse was already starting to itch and she kept self-consciously touching the pancake makeup she had used to cover the bruises on her face. “It would be impossible for you or any other human sorcerer, but the sphere doesn’t build spells from the outside. It does it from the inside out.”
Niles sighed, shaking his head. “You’re talking about it as if it’s alive.”
<
br /> “It could be.” He glared at her as if he thought she was being facetious, but she said seriously, “Think about it, Niles. The other spheres the Institute made all had flaws. Even the one you’re working on isn’t as capable as the others.”
“I’ve finished it.” Then he acknowledged reluctantly, “But you’re right, it isn’t as versatile as the Arisilde Damal sphere. And it’s untested against the Gardier.” He glanced at Arisilde’s sphere where it sat on the next table. The brass was a little tarnished and it had leaked a pool of water from its recent dunking. As Niles looked at it, it clicked and sparked. He frowned slowly. “If we could discover how it defends itself against the Gardier’s mechanical destruction spell and how it penetrated their wards ...” He shook his head, his mouth twisting ruefully. “But I’m afraid it’s too late.”
Tremaine stared at him, startled. “What do you mean, ‘too late’?”
From across the room someone said, “We’ve run out of time.” It was Colonel Averi, standing in the archway to the other dining room. He had managed to find the rest of his uniform, though it was a little rumpled. His face might have been carved from granite. “We’ve lost the war.”
“We were always losing the war,” Tremaine countered, but she felt ill. She had never heard Averi talk like this before. She glanced at Niles in time to see a bleak look cross his face.
As Averi stepped into the electric light she saw his expression was so still and blank only because he was fighting to keep it that way. He hated to say it, to admit it, and that made it real. “The invasion from Adera has begun. Our military detachment was called back to defend the evacuation routes.”
“It was the first step in shutting down the project,” Niles explained. “No one thought you were coming back.” He shook his head, turning to Averi in appeal. “But surely now that the situation has changed—”
Averi rubbed his forehead and said shortly, “I’ll try.”
“You don’t have the men for the mission. To rescue Gerard and the others, or take the base.” Tremaine looked from one man to the other. Niles avoided her eyes and Averi was stone-faced again, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. She slammed her hand on the table, fury overriding all concerns. “You can’t leave the Syprians like this; some of those people died for us. You can’t leave Gerard like this. And we can take that base, just like you planned. We still need that opening in the blockade and they’re hurting, they lost two airships, they’re undermanned . . . We’ll never have a chance like this again—”
“Don’t you think I realize that?” Averi cut her off sharply. “This war is about to end. The palace has issued an order for all civilians to evacuate. Sorcerers have been released from duty and told to flee, to go into hiding. The Ravenna will be used to try to evacuate the remaining military and Institute personnel and anyone else from Chaire and Rel who wants to take the risk of running the blockade to reach Capidara.”
“She won’t make it,” Niles put in, sounding tired. He lifted his head from his hands and regarded them with grim humor. “I’m the only qualified sorcerer left in town and I can’t defend her in the open sea from a Gardier attack. Even with my sphere. It would only take one Gardier craft getting close enough to use their mechanical disruption spell and she’d be done for.” He rubbed his eyes. “We considered taking her to the other world, at least as a temporary measure, but with the Gardier base so near, we would be in the same situation. And then, we didn’t know what had happened to the Pilot Boat.”
“The Ravenna’s crew is still here then,” Tremaine said, her brain starting to click over again. She thought Niles was underestimating the spheres, Arisilde’s and his own. It was true that Arisilde’s could only protect mechanical objects from the disruption spell if it was in close contact with them. Like the way it had shielded Gerard’s pocket watch, but had been unable to defend the Pilot Boat’s engines or wireless. But anyone who had witnessed the sphere’s ferocity in battle knew it was a powerful advantage. Using it wasn’t like being one sorcerer with augmented powers, it was like being two sorcerers, one of whom never hesitated, never forgot a spell, made snap decisions and acted on them with unbelievable speed. And she was sure its power and abilities were increasing with each use, even if Niles didn’t want to admit it.
Niles shrugged. “Yes, it’s a skeleton crew, but—”
“But that’s all we need,” Tremaine persisted. “We can use it to take the spell circle further out in the bay so we can change the target point and get through the portal without the Gardier knowing.”
“I’d like to know how the Gardier discovered where the first target point was,” Niles said under his breath. “That wasn’t something an outside saboteur like the one who killed Tiamarc could learn.”
“So would we all,” Averi said tiredly. He leaned on the back of a chair. “But Miss Valiarde, without the troops—”
Tremaine hated being reasoned with and she hated it that Averi felt sorry enough for her to be polite. “We don’t need troops— Well, yes, we do need troops, but I know a few of us could get into the Gardier tunnels and get the others out. Ilias knows—”
“I know! Tremaine— Miss Valiarde . . .” Averi pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I will try to get the authorization. But you have to understand . . .” He looked at her bleakly. “The ship has been designated for evacuation. The Gardier have broken through the Aderassi border and in a matter of days will be inside Vienne.” He let out his breath. “Even those maps Ander brought back are of no use to us. We can’t even reach Kathbad, let alone mount an attack—”
“Kathbad?” Tremaine repeated, startled. It was a country west of Capidara.
“Yes, the Ravenna’s, cartographer identified the superimposed coastline a little while ago. The map shows a large Gardier installation there—or at least, in that area of the other world.”
Tremaine looked at Niles, who avoided her eyes, staring off toward the other end of the room. Maybe it was time to give up. Hadn’t she wanted to give up, just a couple of weeks ago? Hadn’t she wanted it more badly than her life? I want to give up ... I want to give up, but on my terms, not theirs. Maybe that was the root of her problem.
It didn’t matter, she didn’t have time to think about it. Now she needed to stall Niles and Averi from doing anything that might prevent their return to the other world. She said, “Look, at least let me try too. I know some people in the Ministry who may still be in Vienne. If I can speak to one of them, get authorization, will you agree to let us use the ship to cross over?” It wasn’t quite a lie, the Valiarde name did still have some pull in the Ministry. But it was the trustees of the Viller Institute who knew the right people and Tremaine wasn’t sure if any of them were still in Vienne.
“Miss Valiarde . . .” Averi shook his head wearily. “I’ll give you all the help I can.” He turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the other room.
Niles looked at her gravely. “Tremaine, if Averi doesn’t receive permission to use the Ravenna, I’m going to use my sphere to send your friend Ilias home. We can take one of the small sailboats from the hotel’s boathouse; from what you’ve told me, he should be able to manage it alone.” He leaned forward, regarding her seriously. “I think you should go with him. Florian too, if she agrees. And the Damal sphere should either be destroyed or go with you.”
Tremaine lifted her brows, taking a sip of the cooling coffee to give herself a moment to think. She leaned back in her chair. “Why do I get the free ride?”
“If I could send everyone at the Institute with you, I would. The Syprians may find themselves under attack by the Gardier once they’ve finished with us, but at least there’s a chance.” Niles sat back, looking away, his face tired. “It’s what Gerard would want. In his absence I feel an obligation— And surely it’s what your father would have wanted.”
Tremaine rubbed at a crack in the table’s polished surface. My father would have wanted me to think of a way to sabotage the Gardier base while I was
there the first time, so we could have come back that first day with a huge victory and they wouldn‘t have given up hope. She said only, “I’ll think about it.”
Ilias woke all at once, freezing into immobility, trying to think where he was. He lay sprawled facedown on a little bed, covered with blankets that had a faint musty smell. He heard voices and lifted his head cautiously. He was in an area separated from a larger room by metal-framed fabric screens. There were wizard lights here too, a cluster of them set high in the ceiling, but colored glass shields made the light dim and soft and more natural. Right, the other place, he remembered. He heard Tremaine’s voice, arguing with the other wizard in their own language. He took a relieved breath, relaxing a little. Tremaine sounded annoyed but not afraid. Of course, with her it was nearly impossible to tell.
He pushed himself into a sitting position, pulling the blanket around him, and digested the fact that the only thing he was wearing was a loose white shirt that hung down to his knees. Well, that could be a problem. His hair was still damp with seawater, so he hadn’t been unconscious long. He worked his arm thoughtfully, rubbing his wrist. The skin was still bruised, but there was only a ghost of remnant pain. He shook his head a little. He should have known it was possible, since Florian had made the cut on his back heal faster. But this was the first time he had really believed curses could do something that wasn’t destructive.
Sitting up on his knees, he leaned over the metal headboard, edging the rough white cloth aside to peek past the screen. Outside was a large room, parts of it sectioned off with more screens, with several tables and chairs and polished wood covering the walls and floor. One wall opened into a big dark room, with graceful carved wooden archways and elaborate glass shapes like clumps of icicles covering the wizard lights.
Shaking the hair out of his eyes, he looked around for his clothes and found himself staring at a captured sunset, blazing above the sea. He squinted in disbelief until he realized it was painted on the wall across from him.
