The Wizard Hunters by Martha Wells Read Free Book Online Page B

ending of her last serial in Boulevard . The final three numbers of it had never been printed when publication was suspended for the war.
    They were now walking on a dirt path through winter-dry grass, drawing closer to another large dark shape outlined against the sky, this one with the curving roof of what had been a large stables. Abruptly the sphere in Tremaine’s hands trembled and heat flashed through the metal, intense enough for her to feel it through her gloves. She swore, juggling the thing awkwardly.
    “What is it?” Gerard demanded, pausing.
    “Did we just pass through some wards?” Tremaine managed to get the sphere tucked under her arm, where the thickness of her tweed jacket protected her from the sorcerously hot metal.
    “Yes.” He stepped closer, directing the light down on the sphere. “It reacted again?” he asked, his voice tight with excitement.
    “I think it ate one of them.”
    A loud crash from the direction of the dark building made Tremaine nearly drop the sphere. A door spilled light and shouting people. Gerard whirled, yelling, “It’s all right! We’ve got the Damal sphere and it reacted to the wards.”
    The men gathering, some of them in military uniforms and armed with rifles, now rapidly backed away. Tremaine looked around at the respectful breathing room she, Gerard and the sphere now had, bewildered. What the hell is the matter with them ? she wondered. The sphere’s metal cooled rapidly in the night air and she shifted it into a more comfortable hold. She followed Gerard through the quietly murmuring crowd toward the door.
    She stepped into a long building, high-ceilinged and bare, lit by strings of electric bulbs hanging from the rafters overhead. She could hear the distant roar of a generator and realized the wards must have blocked sound from escaping as well as guarding against magical attack. The floor was hay-strewn packed dirt and the air was full of dust. There were doorways leading into other workrooms and tables along the walls where men and women worked busily in groups.
    For some reason Tremaine hadn’t thought there would be this many people here. She was glad she had put on what passed for her best outfit: a dark tweed jacket and skirt. Unfortunately, the stout walking boots didn’t exactly go with it. But then the “dowdy old maid” look never goes out of style , she thought in resignation.
    A tall slim young man with short straw blond hair hurried up to them, demanding, “Did you get it?”
    Unperturbed, Gerard touched her elbow to bring her forward. “Tremaine Valiarde, this is my colleague, Breidan Niles.”
    “An Arisilde Damal sphere,” Niles said, ignoring Tremaine in favor of the device she was holding. He touched the metal reverently. “The other prototypes were before my time.”
    “Yes, thank you for reminding me of that.” Gerard sighed and took the sphere from Tremaine. “The sphere will let me manipulate it, but it’s still keyed to Tremaine.”
    Niles stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. With his well-tailored suit, narrow features and slicked-back hair, he looked exactly like the kind of man who should be decorating a cafe society party or a court reception, but if he was here, he was either a sorcerer or a philosopher or both. Light brows drawn together in consternation, he turned back to Gerard. “Have you considered the possible consequences?”
    Gerard lifted an ironic brow. “I assure you, I’ve thought of nothing else for the past few hours.”
    “Is she aware—”
    “She’s just spent six months in the Aid Society,” Gerard informed him dryly, “I assure you she is perfectly aware.”
    Yes, I’m a bloody heroine , Tremaine thought, stepping past them. It made her wonder how many of history’s favorite heroes were just incompetent suicides.
    About midway down the length of the building was a wooden platform and she strolled toward it, Gerard and Niles still arguing behind her. She stepped up on it and