The Ships of Air (The Fall of Ile-Rein) (15 page)

Now all that was settled, and they were outside on the steps of the lawgiver’s house waiting for a woman with the alarming title of marriage broker. The process sounded like it was less complicated than registering at the local Magistrate’s office, but Tremaine found herself pacing and sweating. A sailor from the
Ravenna
had brought her leather case, and she had been gratified to see that Florian had taken the extra precaution of tucking it inside one of the ship’s Royal Mail dispatch bags.

The sun was going down and a warm purple twilight had descended over the city. Tremaine forced herself to stop pacing and sat next to Giliead on the steps. Gerard and Ilias were standing over by the trees, with Gerard cross-questioning him on God knew what. Tremaine rubbed sweaty palms on her pants, thinking that it was a good thing she secretly liked causing trouble, or every nerve would have shattered like glass. Surprising herself, she asked Giliead suddenly, “Is this a good idea?”

He didn’t ask what “this” she meant. “Yes.” He cocked an eyebrow at her to see if she thought he was going to stop with that unsatisfactory answer, then added, “Because Ilias thinks it’s a good idea.”

She turned that over. “Why does Ilias think it’s a good idea?”

Giliead shrugged slightly. “He’s always wanted somewhere to belong, since his family abandoned him. He belongs with Andrien, but…” He took a deep breath, sounding resigned. “It’s hard to convince him of that, sometimes.”

Tremaine found that prospect daunting. “I’m not going to tell him what to do.”

“He’s never listened when I’ve told him what to do.” Giliead smiled dryly, then added, “He needs someone to tell him he’s all right. He doesn’t believe me. Maybe he’ll believe you.”

“Me.” Tremaine rubbed her forehead. “Why me?”

He eyed her thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t lie to anyone to make him feel better.”

Tremaine lifted a brow at him. “Because I wouldn’t care enough?”

“I just don’t think it would occur to you,” he admitted. “Why do you think this is a good idea?”

Still reeling from this accurate assessment of her character, she said slowly, “I don’t know. I think, maybe, I’m going to need the help.”

Giliead looked up, and Tremaine realized that they were being approached by Ilias, Halian, Gerard and an older Syprian woman she didn’t recognize.

She got to her feet as Halian said, “This is Nelia of Pergammon House, the marriage broker.”

Tremaine eyed the woman reluctantly, trying not to make a snap judgment. Nelia wasn’t that much older than Karima, but the lines on her face had the look of dissipation rather than age or weather, and her flesh sagged. All Syprians seemed to favor bright colors but her orange wrap clashed with her red skirt, and the green-and-brown-stamped figures along the hem didn’t go with any of it. “Marriage broker and the midwife,” the woman added sharply. “I still have the office, even if your Visolela took away my right to do the job.”

“How nice for you,” Tremaine said, not trying to make it sound polite. She had the feeling her snap judgment was going to prove accurate.

Nelia fixed a critical eye on Tremaine. “You look a little old to be making a first marriage. I see why you’re willing to ally yourself with the Andrien, especially the marked one.”

“Look, old woman—” Tremaine began, but Halian interrupted, telling Nelia repressively, “If you had any objections, you should have taken it up with Karima this afternoon.”

Nelia nodded, as if he hadn’t just all but told her to shut the hell up. “Having brought these two into the world, and most of the other boys in this town their age, I have to take an interest.”

“It’s a wonder any of us made it out alive,” Ilias said under his breath.

Giliead, who had been studying Nelia with cool contempt, said, “We’re in a hurry.”

Nelia turned to him but didn’t have quite the courage to treat him as cavalierly as she did the others. “Very well, very well.” She turned to Tremaine. “How much are you prepared to offer for this fine young man?”

Gerard winced. “God help us,” he murmured in Rienish. Gritting her teeth, Tremaine started to dig a handful of coins out of the case. Leaning over to look, Ilias said, “Not that much.”

He ducked away as Nelia slapped him on the side of the head with her fan, snapping, “You’re not in her family yet.”

The blow couldn’t possibly have done more than irritate him. But Tremaine’s nerves were already on edge and she caught the woman’s eyes and said in a level tone, “You do that again and I’ll break all your fingers.”
You are obviously not the type for a career in the diplomatic service
. If they ever managed to reach the government-in-exile, she doubted they would ratify her status as ambassador pro tem to Cineth and the Syrnai, not unless they wanted a war with their prospective allies.

Nelia eyed her, trying to decide if the threat had been serious or not. “I’m just looking out for Andrien interests.”

“Don’t do us any favors,” Halian told her impatiently. “And the tide isn’t waiting for you.”

Tremaine hesitated, not sure how much to offer. She glanced at Ilias, but he had retreated to a safe distance, looking annoyed. Then behind Nelia’s back, Giliead held up three fingers. Apparently Nelia had eyes in the back of her head because she whipped around to glare suspiciously up at him. He turned the signal into an absent scratch at his chest, lifting a laconic brow at her expression. Relieved to have something to go on, Tremaine fished out three coins and handed them to the old woman.

“Done!” Nelia exclaimed. She turned the coins over curiously, rubbing her fingers over the raised images on the surface.

Tremaine let out her breath. In the future of Rienish-Syprian diplomatic relations—if the Gardier left enough of either place—this might prove a real sticking point. Ile-Rien had ancient laws against slavery, mainly because Bisra had had slavery at the time, and Ile-Rien was automatically against everything that Bisra was for. And there were strict laws enacted only in the last century against indenture. Tremaine was fairly sure she had just broken about three of them.

“Your mother wants to see you both before you go,” Halian was telling Giliead, the way he half turned his back on Nelia suggesting that she had ceased to exist once she had fulfilled her function.

Gerard led Tremaine aside a few paces, telling her, “That’s all there is, there’s apparently no ceremony.”

“Oh.” Tremaine had thought things were being truncated because of the need to leave at nightfall. “That’s very…businesslike.”

“Yes.” Gerard didn’t say
I told you
so but Tremaine definitely felt it floating in the air somewhere. He eyed her a moment. “I’m going back to the ship with the others. Will you wait for them?”

“Yes, I’ll wait.”

He squeezed her shoulder and walked away.

Watching him go, she was still on the steps when Ander came out of the lawgiver’s house with Nicanor and Visolela.

He spotted her and it was too late for anything but a hurried retreat, and Tremaine suddenly didn’t feel like retreating anymore.

He came toward her with a firm stride, and for half an instant she thought he meant to grab her arm. Tremaine had kept the pistol the sergeant had given her after Ixion had escaped; the holster was clipped to the back of her tough leather belt, concealed by the flap of the loose Syprian shirt. Her sudden awareness of it was a reminder that she had made a little rule about not carrying firearms for a reason, though this time she wasn’t thinking of killing herself.

But he stopped in front of her, saying in a clipped tone, “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Of course.” Past his shoulder she saw Ilias watching them alertly. She remembered that Ilias had never liked the way Ander behaved toward her, not even during their first confused meeting in the caves under the island. It had to be a social misunderstanding, but it was interesting that there was something in Ander’s attitude toward her that Ilias interpreted as insulting.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Ander said in Rienish.

Tremaine briefly considered forcing him to explain what he meant by “this,” but she was more in the mood for a frontal assault. “Maybe, but it’s moved things along faster.”

He just looked at her for a moment. “I meant, you have other options.”

That stopped the frontal assault dead in its tracks. She had no idea what he was trying to say. “I have other options?” she repeated blankly.

He took a sharp breath. “You don’t have to throw yourself away like this.”

She stared at him. Now she knew what he meant. “You think I’m so desperate for—what? A man? A marriage?”
No, he doesn’t think that,
she realized suddenly.
It’s just the nastiest thing he can think of to say to me
. She grinned, suddenly free of any emotional constraint. “Go ahead, Ander, I welcome your expertise on all aspects of my private life.”

He eyed her narrowly, and she could tell he was disconcerted by her reaction, which was more satisfying than any amount of yelling and hitting. She prodded, “What, nothing else to say? I’m shattered. No, really.”

He shook his head grimly. “You make it impossible for anyone to care about you.” With that he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with a set jaw and half a dozen replies she couldn’t use.

Ilias came to join her, watching Ander’s retreating back. “What was that about?” he demanded.

“Ander being…Ander. Unfortunately.” A sudden wave of rage startled her, and she realized she was too angry to have a coherent conversation with anyone now. Especially her prospective in-laws. Actual in-laws. Better to leave Ilias and Giliead and the others to say their good-byes to Karima and Halian in peace. “I think—I’d better go down to the dock and make sure the boat is ready to leave.”

Ilias gave her that look that said he knew what she was thinking and nodded. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

K
arima met them in the foyer of the lawgiver’s house, where the dust from the plaza made the colors of the floor mosaic seem dim and faded. She stopped Ilias, putting both hands on his face, and asking, “Are you truly certain?”

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was right for Tremaine or Cineth, but he couldn’t tell Karima that. He took her hands and smiled. “I’m certain.”

Halian came to put his arm around her, and they went through into the atrium. Visolela, Pasima and more of their assorted relatives were sitting on the porch.

If it had been a normal first marriage, there would have been congratulation and relief and speculation on what the alliance with the new family would mean. But Ilias had a curse mark, and they were allying themselves with foreign wizards in order to defend against more foreign wizards, and he could see everyone was wondering if they were all out of their minds and if this wouldn’t end in unimaginable disaster. And he had to get out of here for a moment.

He slipped out of the porch and back to the atrium. Giliead saw him escape but said nothing, just shifting casually to block the view between two columns so the others wouldn’t notice. Ilias went through the dining portico at the back to the outer court that faced the street behind the building. The flowers had overgrown the beds here and an old rain tree shaded the big stone cistern from the sun. Ilias took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake off his tension.

Being away from the pressure of everyone staring at him helped. After a moment he decided to do something useful while he was here and lifted the cistern’s cover to drop the bucket in. He glanced up as the gate to the street squeaked, thinking it was Gyan. Instead he found himself looking at his older brother, Castor. Ilias did the first thing that came to mind: he snarled, “Get out.”

Castor took a step further in, leaving the gate standing open behind him. In their few encounters as adults, Ilias had never seen much in his brother to remind him of himself; Castor had a heavier build and looked older, gray hair showing through his light-colored braids. Years ago he had married a woman from the western end of the Syrnai, who had been a trader and now owned a small farm not far outside Cineth. Ilias knew there were children and a lot of sheep, though he had tried not to know more. Castor demanded, “Is it true?”

Ilias’s eyes narrowed coldly, and he didn’t answer. This was about all he needed. He turned his back, grimly hauling up the bucket.

Castor demanded, “You’re really going off with those people? On that great floating—thing?”

Ilias slammed the bucket down on the stone rim of the cistern, turning to face him. “It’s none of your concern, it’s never been your concern.” Castor had known the family had decided to turn Ilias out nearly a day before their father had taken him off to the hill. This was just more belated guilt.

Castor took another step toward him. “If they’re forcing you to do this, the Finan could help.”

Ilias had to laugh. “Oh, you want to help me? And you expect me to believe that?” He knew his mother was behind this; he didn’t think Castor had ever had a thought that wasn’t put into his head by someone else. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

Castor gestured in exasperation. “I heard they were selling you to wizards, foreigners. I couldn’t—”

“Is that why she sent you?” Ilias interrupted, derisive amusement turning back to fury. The Finan had always claimed that Ilias had run away, since it was against the law to abandon a child. They hadn’t tried to press the claim in years, but the gold Tremaine had given for him might be reason enough for this sudden show of sympathy. “I’d throw my marriage price in the harbor before I’d let her touch it. If you think you can—”

“That’s not it,” Castor snapped. “It’s not the price. She would never—She knows the Finan owe you. You know that. She just wants to—”

“I don’t want anything she or they have,” Ilias interrupted furiously. “And I don’t want your pity, or your help or your guilt. Go back and tell her if she wanted to collect three harvest-weights’ worth of gold today, she should have picked you to throw away instead of me.”