(eng) Martha Wells - Fall of the Ile-Rien 01 by The Wizard Hunters

Author:The Wizard Hunters [Hunters, The Wizard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

They were going to use Gyan’s home to talk, Dyani hurrying in first to warn the old woman who kept the house. As Halian and Nicanor went inside, Giliead stopped Ilias on the porch. Gyan’s house was up under the trees, near the center of the village. The breeze carried the acrid scent of the flying whale’s pyre and people scattered out along the paths, helping the wounded away from the beach, rounding up livestock and children. “Are you sure?” Giliead demanded, keeping his voice low.

“Yes. I know it sounds insane, but yes.” Ilias pushed his hair back, frustrated, and looked back at their guests. They were gathered in an uneasy group near the corner of the house, with an equally uneasy Gyan standing by. The decision was simple in Tremaine and Florian’s case; even if Ilias hadn’t grown to trust them through shared danger, they had saved his life and he was obligated to defend them. Ander he trusted less, but then the young man wasn’t a wizard. And Gerard . . . They had never met a wizard who behaved in such a civilized fashion; even if he hadn’t obligated them by saving the village, it would have been an impossible decision. Ilias looked up at Giliead in appeal. “Are you?”

Giliead nodded with a grimace, his expression saying that he wished he wasn’t. “Yes, I’m sure. We don’t just owe them hospitality, we owe them our lives; it doesn’t matter what the rest of their people are like in— How did they say it? Rien?”

“Rien,” Ilias repeated thoughtfully. “One of the Gardier”—that name was an awkward mouthful—“said it to me.” He nodded to himself. “They must have thought we were Rien’s allies because we burned that flying whale.”

Giliead rubbed his forehead as if trying to chase away an incipient headache. “We’ll worry about that later. Let’s just concentrate on trying to keep Nicanor from killing them.”

They went on into the small main room of Gyan’s home, Ilias stepping aside to lean against the wall and fold his arms. Nicanor was ignoring him, something that most people might have attributed to Ilias bearing a curse mark. But Nicanor had avoided speaking directly to Ilias for years, mostly in retaliation for slights delivered by Giliead, whom he couldn’t afford to ignore. Ilias took a deep breath, reminding himself just keep your mouth shut and let Halian handle it.

“Where did these people come from?” Nicanor demanded, taking a seat at the carefully scrubbed table. He was obviously still fuming. He had grown up in Cineth with his mother’s family while Halian was at sea or at war and was as different from his father as he could be. His younger sister Delphi had fled to Halian as soon as she had been able to manage it.

Halian sat on the bench across from him. “They were shipwrecked on the island, by the other wizards. That’s the simple part of the story. The rest is . . .” He glanced at Giliead. “Complicated.”

Giliead stopped at the far end of the table, as if he was going to stand instead of taking the other seat.

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