The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein) Read Free Page A

obviously leaving the situation to Giliead, who just watched Tremaine calmly. If he had said aloud, “I’ve given you my position on this and I’m not going to argue about it,” it couldn’t have been more clear.
    “Tremaine, would you mind if I handled this?” Ander said with sarcastic emphasis. He was past astonishment and on to exasperated anger, the usual emotional state he and Tremaine communicated in. “Would that be all right with you?”
    Tremaine folded her arms and told him, “Somebody figure this out right now or we do it my way.” She couldn’t back the threat up with Giliead standing ready to wrestle another gun away from her, but maybe in the heat of the moment nobody would figure that out.
    The conversation had been in Syrnaic, and with Florian down on the stairs urging along the first group of prisoners, Ander and the Syprians were the only ones who had understood it. He turned to the Gardier again, grasping the translator, and shouted, “Get up! I won’t ask it again!”
    Maybe his grim face convinced them, though Tremaine thought it was probably her he wanted to throw off the cliff. Two of the Gardier stumbled to their feet and the others followed, the spokesman last and most reluctant, with the Rienish soldier Deric giving him a poke with a rifle to hurry him along. The other members of Ander’s military team closed around them, shepherding them toward the stairs after the last group of refugees.
    Ander stopped beside Tremaine. She expected another sarcastic comment, but he said reluctantly, “At least you got them moving. They really thought you meant it.”
    As he moved away Tremaine clapped a hand over her eyes. It would have been worth it, just to show Ander . He had known her for years longer than anyone else here except Gerard, and yet he didn’t know her at all. She lifted her head to find herself sharing a look with Giliead. His mouth quirked, and she had the sudden feeling he understood.
    Basimi, the wireless box packed in its case and tucked under his arm, pointed at the gun. “Uh, Ma’am, could you ask him if I could have—”
    “Yes, sorry.” Tremaine rubbed her face, trying to collect herself. She told Giliead in Syrnaic, “He wants the weapon back.”
    Giliead handed it over as Ilias came up to them. He gave Tremaine a pointed look, and she snapped, “Don’t you start.”
    He ignored her, turning to Giliead. “You ready to take Ixion?”
    Giliead let out a breath, his expression darkening as he looked at the canvas-wrapped bundle lying on the broken pavement. Moving the sorcerer’s body wouldn’t disrupt the ward Gerard had placed on it, but Tremaine wouldn’t have had that job for anything, and Ilias looked as if this was as close as he planned to get to it. They both watched Giliead lift the body and heave it over his shoulder.
     
     
     
    T remaine hurriedly picked her way along the edge of the canal after Ilias and the others, the sphere’s bag bumping her familiarly in the hip. I feel like I just did this. Oh right, I did. The overcast sky was darkening rapidly and the canal had become a dim gray-green tunnel as the overhanging vegetation screened what little light remained. Giliead, still carrying Ixion, had gone up ahead to talk to Halian, jumping down into the canal and wading through the waist-deep water past the line of refugees making their way along the stone ledge. Ander and the other Rienish were herding the Gardier prisoners through the canal up near the front of the line. Basimi was just ahead of Ilias, burdened with the wireless box and the rifle slung over his back. Tremaine had offered to carry the gun for him, but for some reason he had declined.
    Most of the refugees were moving quickly, carrying the injured, helping each other along, spurred by fear of recapture. Occasional stragglers still fell behind, dazed by the suddenness of events or too scarred by their long captivity to really understand what was happening. Ilias plunged into the water