The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein) (14 page)

Tremaine cleared her throat. “Most of our people aren’t wizards. I’m not. The captain of the giant ship is not. Our Queen—” She realized she had used the Rienish word; there was no Syrnaic equivalent. She substituted hurriedly, “—Matriarch and her heirs and the members of her council are not. There is nothing in our law anywhere that says a sorcerer’s interest takes precedence over that of any other person.” Finding herself unable to sustain the formal tone, she added with a shrug and a wry smile, “We’re more likely to cheat you because we have politicians than because we have wizards.”

A faint murmur rose as everyone talked that over. Pella eyed her for a moment, something she was beginning to recognize as a rhetorical device. He said, “If you truly mean to accept us as equals, then prove it. Prove it with a marriage alliance. Let her align herself with—” He hesitated, but it was a calculated pause, a tactical moment to sweep the room with a glance and make sure he had his audience’s attention. “With the Andrien House. With Ilias.”

Tremaine blinked.
Did he just say what I think he said?
She looked at the others for help. They were staring at Pella. Ilias was struggling to keep his expression blank, but the flush of red under his tanned skin laid bare his feelings. Giliead’s face had suffused with anger, Halian’s lip curled with contempt. A glance up at the top tier of seats showed her Karima, sitting up stiffly, her hands knotted in her stole.

Baffled, Tremaine turned back to Pella, who waited with lifted brows, inviting her opinion. Then realization hit.
Oh, I get it
. She smiled at him through gritted teeth. Ilias’s curse mark made him almost a nonperson in the cities of the Syrnai; a Syprian woman would never have accepted this offer. The fact that it meant humiliating Ilias in front of the council and his family was obviously just an added bonus. The only thing that made it bearable was the enormous satisfaction she was about to derive from knocking Pella right off his self-congratulatory little pedestal. “Is that a serious offer?”

Pella’s expression of calm confidence hardened just a little. Before he could reply, she continued, “It sounds like that would be the Andrien family’s business. But if they made the offer…” She hesitated for effect, mockingly copying Pella’s rhetorical pause. “I would be happy to accept it.”
Oh. Wait.
Suddenly uncertain, she leaned down to Ilias, asking in a whisper, “Is that all right with you?”

He looked startled. “What?”

Nicanor was on his feet now. “Is that your condition, Pella? A marriage alliance between Andrien and—” He looked inquiringly at Tremaine, who supplied automatically, “Valiarde.”

Pella’s lips thinned, but he obviously recognized that it was too late for anybody to back out, especially him. “Yes, that is my condition.”

Nicanor turned back to them. “Is it agreeable to Andrien?”

Giliead and Halian stared blankly at each other as if nobody had ever wanted to marry anyone in their family before, and they had no more idea how to handle it than Tremaine did. She knew Halian had been married at least twice; surely he remembered something of the details. Then she saw with relief that Karima had left her place on the top tier of benches and was determinedly making her way down, stepping on the people who weren’t fast enough to get out of her way. She stepped over the last bench, catching Halian’s hand to steady herself, and leaned over to Tremaine, asking softly, “You said Gerard can speak for your family?”

“He’s not my guardian anymore, but he’s a trustee of the estate, so, sure.”
Stop babbling,
she told herself urgently.

Some of those words had no equivalent in Syrnaic, but Karima must have gotten the drift of it. She nodded sharply. “Let’s go talk to him.” She took Tremaine’s hand, firmly leading her down the steps and away without a glance at anyone else.

Once they were out of the council chamber and into the corridor between the buildings, Karima released Tremaine so she could unwrap her stole and shake out her hair. Without looking at her, Karima said, “Is this just for an alliance?”

Tremaine felt sweat break out all over her body though it was cooler out here than in the council chamber. “No,” she found herself saying.

Karima stopped to face her, her expression intent, guarded but hopeful. “You would want to take him back to your land?”

“I don’t have a land anymore. Even if we drive the Gardier away—” Tremaine took a deep breath. She had the distinctly contrary sensation of her mind being blank but her thoughts racing. It was uncomfortable. “I’ll have to stay with the
Ravenna
until we find out one way or another if there’s a chance to go back. Unless they throw me off the ship, which is always a possibility.”
You’re babbling again
. “But one way or another—I wouldn’t ask him to go back,” she finished awkwardly.

Karima nodded seriously. She started toward the steps out into the plaza, saying, “If you decide to go back to your land, then he will still be better off. Men who have been married once aren’t subject to the family laws.”

Following her, Tremaine nodded, not sure she was taking it all in.

Gerard and Ander, sitting on the steps of the lawgiver’s house, stood up as they saw Tremaine. Gerard frowned in consternation, and Ander demanded, “It’s over? What’s happened?”

Tremaine stopped in front of them, looking expectantly at Karima, who lifted her brows slightly. Tremaine realized she needed to do the talking. She braced herself, giving them both what she hoped was a confident expression.
First things first: get rid of Ander
. “Karima and I need to speak to Gerard alone.”

Ander’s frown deepened, and he threw a sharp look at Gerard, but he retreated back out of earshot without further protest.

Gerard lifted his brows, puzzled. “Tremaine?”

She cleared her throat. Her teeth wanted to chatter from nerves, and she had to clamp her jaw to stop it, which made it difficult to talk. “It’s going well; well, there’s a lot of arguing, but—They want a marriage alliance, so I’m going to marry Ilias.”

Gerard blinked. “You…you what?”

“You have to give us something. A boat, land, cattle, something of value,” Karima put in, her voice a little concerned. “It doesn’t matter to me, but if it’s too little, then it seems as if you don’t value him.”

“I see.” Tremaine nodded, not sure she did see but willing to work with Karima. She did have land, a house and a lot of property not leased to the Viller Institute, but it was all on currently Gardier-occupied war-torn territory. She also had an art collection if the Gardier didn’t find or destroy the hidden vaults. Then she remembered the gold coins she had taken out of the family deposit box at the bank to pay the forger. “I’ve got gold, Rienish gold reals. They’re each four ounces of solid gold, or really about 90 percent gold with trace metals. You can melt them down, or you might like them just as they are. They have the royal seal on them, and they won’t be made anymore, so—”
Stop it
. She should tell Gerard she was hysterical and ask him to slap her. “I don’t have them with me, but they’re on the boat. The ship.”

Karima was nodding, smiling in relief. She drew her stole around her. “That will be perfect. We don’t use gold, but the merchants from Argot will trade a lot of grain for it.” She threw Gerard a look, obviously noting that he had something to say on the subject. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Tremaine watched Karima walk back to the council house, then turned reluctantly to Gerard. At least he looked more grim than incredulous. He said, “Are you actually seriously contemplating this?”

Tremaine gestured erratically.
Maybe I am out of my mind. But then, didn’t I know that already?
“Yes. It’s perfect. It’s what they want. Actually they don’t want it, but they’ve suggested it, and now they can’t get out of it. I’m in there too. I mean, I think it’s a good idea.”

Gerard rubbed his face, possibly trying to calm himself. “Tremaine, you can’t.”

She nodded rapidly. “I can, actually.”

He said tightly, “Your father entrusted me—”

She gestured, impatient. “Gerard, we both know if my father was alive, he wouldn’t give a damn—”

“I’m afraid we both do not know that—”

“And if he did, we wouldn’t know until it was too late. And by the way, I’m doing it anyway.”

Gerard let out a frustrated breath and looked away.

Tremaine waited uncomfortably. If it was a tactic, it was working. Unable to help herself, she said, “What are you thinking?”

Gerard regarded her. “I’m thinking it’s typical of you that you can’t explain how a steam engine works, but you can give the weight and metallurgic contents of a gold real.”

While she was trying to decide how to respond to that, Ander returned, his face dark with impatience. “Will you tell me what the hell the problem is?”

“I’ll explain,” Gerard said sharply.

“I’m getting married,” Tremaine told him, suddenly enjoying herself.

The incredulous expression on Ander’s face was classic. “What?”

“Tremaine—” Gerard began warningly.

“Wait, wait. Can I borrow your notebook?” As Gerard reluctantly handed it over, Tremaine told him, “We need to send for the coins.” She thought for a moment about whom she trusted to go through her things, then wrote a note to Florian, asking her to take the leather document case out of her bag and send it to her.

“What is this?” Ander demanded, looking at Gerard. “What is she talking about?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?” Tremaine said. She tore the page out, folded it, and handed it to an unwilling Gerard. “I’m going back in.” She made her escape before either man could object.

H
alian and Nicanor had moved to the far side of the chamber, talking intently amid the babble of other conversations. Pella had not been invited to join them, and he stood watching, his face tight with tension and thwarted anger. To Ilias, he looked like a man who had realized he had made a fool of himself and was all the more determined to make somebody pay for it. He also noticed a lot of people were staring at him, and not for the usual reasons.

Giliead had gone off with Halian, but now came back to sit down on the step next to Ilias, asking quietly, “How do you feel about this?”

Good question,
Ilias thought. He wished he had the answer. “We want an alliance,” he said to avoid it. He shrugged. “Even if it’s Pella’s idea, it’s the best way.”

Giliead’s lips thinned in irritation. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

Ilias rubbed his eyes. Everyone was still watching them, or at least it felt like everyone. Giliead, of course, wouldn’t care. The laws didn’t give the Chosen Vessel any special authority in marriage matters, but if Giliead decided to argue against it, there would be few who would oppose him.

Silk brushed his arm, and he looked up to see Visolela standing over them. She was trembling with anger, her lovely face flushed as she demanded, “Are you going to allow him to do this?”

Ilias stared at her. “Me?”

Giliead just looked at her. It was a badly timed question, since Giliead must be in the middle of deciding just that. He said, coldly, “Go away.”

She stared down at them, the flush deepening, then gathered her skirts and walked back down the tiers.

Giliead watched her go. “This could turn out badly.”

He wasn’t talking about Visolela; they already knew that was going to turn out badly. Ilias snapped, “And I just wouldn’t know what to do, since nothing bad’s ever happened to me before.”

Giliead’s jaw set, but his expression said he knew exactly how conflicted Ilias was. Ilias looked away.

Halian returned, taking the seat just below them. He looked up at Ilias seriously. “Well? Do you want to do this?”

People keep asking me that
. “Will they really agree to the alliance if I do?”

Halian persisted, “If you’re just doing this for the alliance, tell Karima now.”

“If I’m not just doing it for the alliance, when do you want me to tell her?”

Halian swore in frustration. Giliead muttered something inaudible but obviously not complimentary. Ilias told him sharply, “You can stay out of this now.”

Karima returned, the muttered babble of conversations quieting as she crossed the room. They stood up as she reached them. Karima lowered her voice, reporting, “She said she wouldn’t expect you to go back to their land.”

Giliead let out his breath, and Ilias couldn’t help feeling gratified at the relief on his face. He was aware of the knot in his chest easing. He told them, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

T
remaine returned to the council room to find everyone milling around, talking over the situation. Her nerves jumping at the prospect of facing Ilias again, she threaded her way through the crowd back toward her seat, only to find her path blocked by Visolela. The woman gave her a flinty stare.

With Giliead’s sister and Halian’s daughter both killed by Ixion, and Giliead an unmarriageable Chosen Vessel, the house, land and property of Andrien would pass to Visolela when Karima died. Since Ilias still had the curse mark, Tremaine didn’t think any of that had changed; Ilias was a ward of the house, not a son, so she wasn’t sure if his wife would have been eligible to inherit. Looking at Visolela, standing stiffly and trying to face down the annoying foreigner, Tremaine didn’t think she was keen on the idea anyway.

Spurred by an uncharitable impulse, Tremaine smiled and said heartily, “So, I suppose we’re going to be related now.”

Visolela stared, her mouth whitening with tension. Tremaine continued, “I can assure you that the Valiarde family is really something back in Ile-Rien. Yes, really something. It’s a shame about the hereditary insanity of course, but—”

Visolela’s almond-shaped eyes grew dark with rage. “Why are you doing this?” she asked tightly.

Tremaine was struck by some reluctant respect for her directness. Maybe they could actually talk; it wasn’t unheard of. “That’s a question I ask myself about almost everything.” She shrugged slightly, trying to look casual rather than frantic. “This was Pella’s idea, but it’s a good one.”

With deliberate emphasis, Visolela said, “Ilias was the only chance the Andrien had for a profitable alliance. Before he was ruined, there were women who were willing to offer as much as two spring harvests for him. Now, he’s worthless. Association with a Chosen Vessel made him worthless.” Her eyes narrowed. “I ask you again, why are you doing this?”

Fine, scratch the talking option
. Tremaine regarded her thoughtfully. “You’re a very angry person, aren’t you.” She leaned forward, just a little too close, looking deeply into the other woman’s eyes. “So am I.”

Visolela stared at her, her delicate skin reddening, then turned and walked away.

Tremaine watched her go, still fuming. That probably hadn’t been the most intelligent response to someone who held so much power in Cineth, but it was too late now.
Two spring harvests?
she wondered, starting toward their seats again.
Was she serious about that? Of course she was; she has no sense of humor.
She suddenly wondered if Arisilde’s translation spell substituted the Rienish word “marry” for a Syrnaic word that had no real equivalent, like it had substituted the Syrnaic word “curse” for all the different Rienish terms for magic.

The crowd opened up in front of her and before she realized it she was standing next to Ilias. Badly startled, she fumbled for something to say. Before she could embarrass herself, he said wryly, “Visolela doesn’t like this.”

“You heard that?” Tremaine asked, desperately self-conscious and trying to remember exactly what it was she had said. He was acting as if nothing had happened, which made it a little easier for her to talk to him without feeling like a bundle of exposed nerves.

He nodded matter-of-factly. “She was upset when I got the curse mark because she wanted to make Karima marry me off to the head of a trading house in Pirus. That’s more than thirty days travel inland.”

Oh, yes
, Tremaine thought as she followed him back to their spot on the tiers of seats. By “marry off” he meant “sell off,” or maybe a strange and uniquely Syprian combination of both.
This could be awkward
. There was an old Bisran joke about how there weren’t any prostitutes in Ile-Rien because too many of the inhabitants were giving it out for free. Tremaine reminded herself of Karima’s comment that men who had been married once were no longer subject to family law. Now that made more pointed sense. If Tremaine left him, Ilias would be free to do whatever he wanted, to stay with Giliead, to start his own household like Gyan the widower or marry again for love like Halian. If he could find a woman willing to ignore the curse mark. “Why is she so against anything that might benefit you?”

He scratched his head and looked vague. “You’ll be higher in the family than her.”

She frowned, sensing that wasn’t the only reason. “By marrying you I’ll outrank her? How does that work?”

“You’ll be closer to Karima in the family. If I was Karima’s blood son, you’d be her heir, but since I’m her ward, you just get the responsibilities but none of the property.”

“I see.” That made a little more sense. Visolela didn’t strike Tremaine as someone too concerned with wealth, but she was all about power. Her position in the family gave her a measure of control over the Andrien’s lower echelons, and she didn’t want to give that up.

Ilias sat down on the bench and admitted reluctantly, “Also, it’s not me she doesn’t like, it’s Gil. He slept with her once, before she married Nicanor.”

Tremaine lifted her brows, genuinely shocked. “And that causes women to start vindictive vendettas against his entire family?” The comment was a knee-jerk reaction, covering her very real surprise that Giliead had ever actually unbent long enough to do something stupid, such as sleep with a woman who had “heart-eating bitch” written on her forehead.

“It doesn’t usually go that far,” Ilias admitted.

Tremaine looked up to see Visolela, still stiff with rage, standing by the opposite side of the tier. “Let me guess—she wanted him to use his position to benefit her in some way, he got huffy and walked out on her, she can’t do anything to him directly because the god might take offense, so she goes after you.”

“Don’t talk about it in front of Nicanor,” Ilias said seriously. “It’s one of the reasons they don’t get along.”

Tremaine rubbed her eyes. The Valiarde family might be no prize but at least none of her relatives were on speaking terms with her. “I’ll avoid the subject.”

T
here was more talking, with intervals of yelling, as the discussions got back under way, but the heart had gone out of the opposition.

Tremaine thought herself safe for the next few hours, at least until the council called a formal halt. But the individual members were breaking up into groups to discuss plans for defending Cineth against the Gardier, and there wasn’t much point in remaining in the room until they finished. As if aware of this, Gerard cannily sent Dyani in to ask her to come out and speak to him. Tremaine moaned, got up and dragged herself outside to face the worst. Gerard had had time to come up with some good ones.

He was waiting for her under the trees in the market plaza. Gyan and Arites were sitting a little distance away. Gyan nodded gravely to her; Arites had his parchment and ink out and was scribbling rapidly.

Without preamble, Gerard said, “I’ve spoken to Gyan, who’s explained Syprian marriage in detail. In a first marriage the man usually has few rights, unless he comes from a powerful or wealthy family. For example, it’s Nicanor’s mother’s influence combined with Visolela’s trading connections that makes him able to hold the position of lawgiver. A wealthy woman can also contract multiple first marriages with more than one man at a time, though in Cineth that’s considered declasse. A family such as the Andrien, who don’t have much status at the moment, could usually expect to sell its sons into low-status marriages where they are the second or even third or fourth husbands. It’s only after divorce, which occurs when the groom is bought by another woman, or his family buys him back—”

“But afterward, he can do what he wants,” Tremaine wedged the comment in before he could go any further. She had to admit it was worse than she thought. “Ilias will still be better off, no matter what happens.”

Gerard paused, regrouping. He counterattacked with, “Do you think he is in love with you?”

Tremaine snorted. She wasn’t lying to herself. “Of course not. If he loves anybody, it’s Giliead. But we’re friends.”

Thwarted, Gerard pressed his lips together. “Building a relationship based on nothing but shared danger doesn’t always work.”

He sounded like he was speaking from personal experience. Tremaine turned that information over. She had never thought of Gerard as actually having the kind of relationships they were talking about. He had kept his personal life very close over the years, working first for her father, then for the Institute. She met his eyes. “It’s a good basis for taking a chance.”
God, I almost sound like I know what I’m talking about
. It was frightening.

Gerard watched her a long moment, the tightness in his face softening. “I’ve seen you go through relationships with feckless young men. I watched you go through a decline that I couldn’t understand or affect.” He let out his breath. “I don’t want you hurt.”

I’m already hurt, this is nothing
. Tremaine ran a hand through her hair, muttering inadequately, “I won’t get hurt.” She saw Ander approaching. The last thing she needed was his assessment of her current sanity. She looked for help and saw Karima walking along the portico with Dyani. Council participants were not allowed food during the duration of the discussion to keep things from bogging down, but this would be a good time to ask Karima if there was such a thing as a public restroom. She told Gerard, “I think Ander wants to talk to you. I’ll just get out of the way.”

Ander called her name sharply, but she didn’t stop.

I
lias and Giliead had come out for some air and Ilias spotted Gerard under the trees with Tremaine. He watched Tremaine bolt off after Karima, leaving Gerard looking unhappy. Ilias glanced up at Giliead, knowing he was the cause and uneasy about it. “Maybe I should go talk to him.”

Giliead nodded equably. “And say what?”

Ilias glared at him. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

Giliead snorted at the obviousness of this, but followed Ilias over to the trees. Ander reached Gerard first, and Ilias stopped a polite distance away while the young man spoke to the wizard in Rienish. He caught a few words here and there, nothing that really told him what the conversation was about. Some people on the ship spoke the language with such different accents he couldn’t make out the few words he did know, and the verbs were always impossible—he was willing to swear on his life that nobody ever used the same one twice. But it was easy to tell Ander was angry.

The young man stamped away finally, and Ilias approached Gerard with caution. Not having anything else to say, he asked, “What’s wrong with him now?”

Gerard lifted a brow, watching Ander’s retreat with an ironic expression. “I’m afraid he doesn’t want you to marry Tremaine.”

Giliead eyed Ander’s retreating form, not favorably. “Why?”

“I’m not entirely certain. Ander…has always been a young man to whom good things came easily. Before the war his family was wealthy and politically influential, and he was something of a darling of society.” Gerard shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I may be wrong, but I think he expects Tremaine to be in love with him because most young women are. Since she obviously isn’t, he fancies himself to be jealous.”

Thinking,
I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him,
Ilias cocked a brow up at Giliead, who grimaced in silent agreement. Having been left on a hillside to starve by his natural family because they had more children than they could support, Ilias didn’t have much sympathy for Ander’s sore ego. “I don’t understand. If he wants to marry her too, why can’t he just keep trying?” If Tremaine thought her family was willing to accept Ilias, a foreigner with a curse mark, he wasn’t sure why she thought they might balk at Ander. If they were Syprians, he would think that Ander didn’t want to join a family that had someone with a curse mark in it, but that didn’t apply to the Rienish.

Gerard sighed, contemplated the sky for a moment as if asking it for strength, then said, “We don’t have polygamy. Tremaine can only marry one man.”

“So by your law, if she has me, she can’t have him?” Ilias considered that, intrigued. “Huh.”

Giliead folded his arms, his expression suggesting that he had a headache. “This is going to be interesting,” he said under his breath.

C
hoosing Syprian representatives to go with the
Ravenna
had turned out to be a political infight that rivaled the combined machinations of Ile-Rien’s Ministry, the Council of Guilds and the People’s Front of Adera, as far as Tremaine could tell. The dangers inherent in the voyage weren’t a problem, as Syprians were used to the idea of all long voyages being dangerous. Most people were more afraid of the
Ravenna
herself, though there seemed an equal number who were unwillingly intrigued by her.

Giliead was going because of Ixion; Ilias, even before the marriage business had come up, had planned to go with him. Apparently Chosen Vessels often acted as envoys, and there was a Chosen Vessel in the nearby community of Tyros who had watched over Cineth in Giliead’s absence before and could be counted on to do it again. Apparently, Tremaine reflected, Cineth’s god and Tyros’s god didn’t mind the temporary substitution.

Halian wanted Gyan to go as Cineth’s representative, but Pella and his followers seemed to think Gyan was an inappropriate choice. Karima had intervened, standing up to demand sharply what Gyan and through him the Andrien House was suspected of.

Since the only possible answer to that was of making a private alliance with foreign wizards in order to oust Nicanor and Visolela and take over the city, a scenario that would involve a personal betrayal of the god on Giliead’s part, the god’s willful ignorance of that betrayal, and a betrayal of his son and daughter-in-law by Halian, as well as attributing absurdly labyrinthine motives to a family who had apparently shown little or no interest in city politics for years, Gyan was duly chosen as representative. Visolela then added five others, led by her older sister Pasima, a tall dark-haired woman with an athletic build, who had entered the council chamber during the discussion. She didn’t have Visolela’s perfection of feature, but the family resemblance was easy to see in her high cheekbones and stubborn chin. From the disgruntled look Giliead and Ilias had exchanged, Tremaine suspected the suite was going to seem awfully crowded.