THE WIZARD HUNTERS

by Martha Wells

  They dumped it on the pavement and stepped back, staring down at it bleakly. Not that they look like it’s something they want to keep, she thought.

  Ander frowned down at it and Tremaine asked, “What’s that?”

  Ilias rubbed his eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

  Giliead, more literal-minded, said, “It’s Ixion.”

  Now everyone stared at the bundle. Tremaine stood up and approached it carefully. She had never laid eyes on Ixion and was tempted to ask them to open it so she could take a look. Deciding reluctantly that that might be seen as inappropriate under the circumstances, she looked up at Giliead, asking, “You think he might be growing another body somewhere?”

  Giliead nodded, pressing his lips together.

  Halian let out a breath. “I know your reasons, but what are we going to do with it?”

  Gerard stepped up beside Tremaine, eyeing the bundle grimly. “I can cast a ward around it, that’s a start.” He glanced back at the sphere and shook his head slightly. “I should say, we can cast a ward around it.”

  A crackle from the radio interrupted. “It sings!” Arites yelped.

  The singing Arites had heard was the rapid beeps and clicks of a Rienish code signal. The transmission was garbled, perhaps from the weather, perhaps from the lingering remnants of the etheric disturbances around the island, but it was in the newest military code. After their experience with Dommen, Tremaine didn’t find that terribly reassuring.

  Once it was translated into words, the message on the radio had briefly explained the delay, saying that a call for evacuation assistance had been received from Chaire and the Ravenna had paused to pick up more passengers. In response Ander had tapped out a series of instructions over the wireless to meet them at the cove the Syprians called Dead Tree Point. They couldn’t reach the harbor the Gardier had used without going back through the caves, and Halian had said that was the best alternate spot for a boat to come in.

  With Ander in charge at the plaza and as strong a ward as Gerard and the sphere could cast around Ixion’s body, Tremaine, Gerard, Ilias and Giliead made their way down the canal to Dead Tree Point. Florian had followed them to the edge of the canal, watching them anxiously. They had left the sphere with her, just in case.

  Though no one was willing to say out loud that this might be a trap, they had discussed alternate plans; if this wasn’t the Ravenna, they still needed a way off the island or a way to summon help from Cineth. Ander and some of the others had raided the Gardier stores for rations, but food and clean water were going to be an issue soon. The best alternate solution was to risk the caves again and make for the Gardier harbor and the transport ship docked there. If the few surviving Gardier hadn’t already taken it for their escape.

  If this wasn’t the Ravenna, Tremaine thought they were probably all dead.

  They reached the cove late in the afternoon and the gray clouds overhead were beginning to darken with the threat of rain. Walking out onto the bluff where there was a good view of the cove below and the gray-green sea past the sheltering rocks, Tremaine found herself missing the Swift. She wondered if Ilias and Giliead felt the same. She shielded her eyes from the watery glare, staring into the mist that lay across the waves like a cotton wool blanket. “I don’t see anything.”

  Gerard lowered the field glasses, his brow furrowed with anxiety. “But the mist is very thick out there and with the Ravenna’s camouflage, she might fade into it.”

  Giliead frowned in concentration. “I hear something.”

  After a moment Tremaine heard it too. Her stomach jittered and she found herself wanting to bounce nervously on her heels. “That’s an engine.”

  Squinting, Ilias pointed. “There, it’s a boat.”

  Gerard lifted the glasses again, then lowered them with a relieved smile. “It’s one of the Ravenna’s launches. I can see Niles in the prow.”

  In another few moments they could all see the small boat chugging toward them, slowing as it drew near the cove. Tremaine couldn’t see Niles without the field glasses, but she could see that the man at the wheel, and the others behind him, wore dark blue Rienish navy uniforms. Then the clouds parted, sunlight temporarily thinning the mist just long enough for them to glimpse in the distance the distinctive silhouette of the enormous hull and the three stacks. The Ravenna was hanging back offshore at the edge of the deep water.

  Giliead stepped back with a startled curse. He turned a shocked expression to Ilias, who said pointedly, “I told you. She’s as big as a mountain.”

  “Now we can get off this damn island,” Gerard breathed fervently, turning for the trail that led down to the little beach.

  Tremaine folded her arms, smiling. “That’s right.” Now we can go after the Gardier.

  MARTHA WELLS was born in Fort Worth, Texas, and received her B.A. in anthropology from Texas A & M University. She is the author of four previous novels: The Element of Fire, City of Bones, The Death of the Necromancer, which was nominated for a Nebula Award, and Wheel of the Infinite. She lives with her husband in College Station, Texas. You can visit her website at www.marthawells.com.

  Version history

  V1.0—Aug2004—Proofread and formatted.