his hand over it, not quite touching it, frowning in concentration. “It doesn’t feel dangerous. I don’t think it was meant to be a trap. It’s very old. Maybe it was painted by a wizard and his curses just…leaked into it.”
“Oh.” Relieved, Ilias stepped close again to examine the woman’s image. “Maybe that’s the woman the ship is named after.” She looked like someone that would make Visolela feel threatened and defensive, so Ilias immediately wanted to like her. He jerked his chin toward the men gathered around her. “She had a lot of husbands.” Warrior-husbands. They all wore swords, strange-looking ones with long narrow blades and rounded guards to deflect the sharp points. No one had worn swords when he had been to Ile-Rien, but he knew all the warriors must have been away fighting the Gardier.
Giliead nodded, studying the woman thoughtfully.
They went on up, finding the big room where they had first boarded less packed with people but still crowded, everyone babbling in unfamiliar languages. Ilias recognized some of the freed slaves by their ragged brown Gardier clothes. From here he could see there were round columns of polished green stone flanking colorfully patterned carpets and more of the cushioned furniture. There were glass-walled rooms along the sides, though they seemed to be empty.
“I don’t see Gerard.” Giliead let out his breath, sounding both resigned and annoyed. “This is going to be like looking for a pebble in a quarry. Any ideas?”
“No…. Wait, there’s somebody.” Craning his neck, Ilias saw a familiar sleek blond head bobbing through the crowd and started forward, shouldering his way through. It was the other wizard, Niles.
“Hey,” he called when he was in earshot. “Niles.”
The man turned, a little startled, and eyed them dubiously.
“We need to find Gerard,” Ilias said. He was annoyed to find himself speaking slowly, as if that would help. The only word the man would recognize was the other wizard’s name.
Niles lifted his brows, enlightened, and motioned for them to follow, turning to head for the opposite end of the big chamber. It was easier this time because people had noticed them and were moving aside, mostly so they could stare. It didn’t bother Ilias since he had done his share of that in the Rienish city. And it wasn’t unfriendly staring, like the Gardier or when he and Giliead had traveled to an enemy city or port; it was just honest curiosity.
Niles led them to the back of the big chamber, down a short corridor where the tile floor turned to rich green carpet. It opened into another stairwell, this one gently lit by cloudy glass panels in the walls, each etched with graceful waterbirds and plants. They went up a couple of decks, through an empty carpeted chamber, then a metal door that led to another stairway, this one narrow and without the colorful appointments of the others. The walls here were just the bare metal bones of the ship and as they went up Ilias caught the scent of damp outdoor air, as if a hatch was open somewhere. He wondered how far they were above the water. “How do you steer something like this,” he said softly. It must be like trying to steer a floating city.
Giliead shook his head slightly. “The steering platform has to be in the bow.”
“But how does that work?” Ilias protested. They came up into a short passage with four doors and Niles chose one, stepping inside. Ilias looked cautiously past him, seeing a room with wooden walls unadorned except for two small windows looking out into a cloudy gray sky. In the corner there was a long cabinet with narrow drawers, very like the one where they had found the maps inside the Gardier’s flying whale. The men in the room were leaning over a big table spread with maps and papers, studying them intently. Permeating the air was the strong odor of that awful drink the Rienish seemed unable to live without. The Rienish sailors had identical clothing the
Learning to Kill: Stories