Read The Gate of Gods (Fall of the Ile-Rien) for Free Online

didn’t have any to spare. “What do you want?”
    “I’d like to help.”
    Tremaine lifted a brow. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
    “At the moment, no. I’ve been assigned off the Ravenna, but the Capidarans are handling most of the duties.” He added bleakly, “There’s nothing to do except wait.”
    Watching his face, seeing the new lines of anxiety and strain that she didn’t remember being there before, Tremaine felt a reluctant surge of empathy. She rubbed her forehead wearily. I hate it when I do this. “All right, come on. But you’re paying for the taxicab.”
     
     
     
    T he shade in the top of the house was not only angry, it was actively hostile. Braced against the door to keep it from slamming and trapping them inside, Ilias hoped the battle at least gave Giliead a chance to work off some of his temper. “I’m just telling you what she said,” he repeated for the third time. He hadn’t even gotten to the part yet about just who Pasima thought was responsible for all this.
    The wan yellow illumination came from the curse light in the narrow attic corridor, revealing that the floor of the long room was littered with odd fragments of metal or wooden rubbish and rat droppings. Giliead paced the confines of it, his face set in grim lines. He was a big man, even for a coastal Syprian, and nearly a head taller than Ilias. Outraged, he seemed to take up even more space in the relatively small chamber, his light brown hair frazzled in its braids. “I just don’t understand what she expects to gain out of it,” Giliead said in frustration. He had tracked the shade back to this room and the first brush with it had left long light scratches across his chest and neck.
    The old wooden door, propelled by the shade’s anger, shoved against Ilias’s shoulder with renewed vigor; he leaned into it more firmly, bracing his feet in the doorjamb. The shade’s turbulent presence made the room deadly cold; their breath misted in the air and his fingers were going numb. “Why do you think she wants to gain something?”
    “Why else would she care?” Giliead demanded. “It doesn’t do her any good if I die. Whoever the god picks will be a child; does she want Cineth to have to rely on other cities’ Vessels for the next score of years?”
    “No. I think she was being sincere. For her, anyway.” It was what worried Ilias the most. The door whacked him in the back again and he grimaced, saying impatiently, “Look, just calm down. Forget Pasima. You’re not going to be able to convince this motherless shade to rest if you’re angry.”
    Giliead snarled, “I know that.” Then he pressed his hands over his eyes, taking a deep breath.
    Dust stirred across the room, lifting in a curtain, then gently dispersing. Ilias found himself holding his breath, and not just to keep from sneezing. It doesn’t mean anything if he can’t do it. Some shades never rest and this one is a real bastard. But he still held his breath.
    The room was calm, silent. Ilias felt the pressure of the door against his back ease, then it squeaked as it swung gently back. He straightened up slowly, relieved.
    Further down the corridor, another door banged. Then again. And again. Giliead opened his eyes, swearing. “Well, at least it’s not haunting this room anymore,” Ilias said wearily, standing back to let him stomp out. It was going to be a long evening.
     
     
     
    D usk was gathering and a light rain had started when the taxicab deposited Tremaine and Ander in a broad residential street. It was lined with three-story brown brick town houses. Unlike such houses in Vienne, most had steps leading down to basement entrances for servants under the front doors, and there were no ornamental ironwork fences, window boxes or potted trees. Despite that, the street seemed clean and open. Tremaine could see warm yellow light behind drawn curtains, and men in overcoats or women carrying market baskets hurried up to welcoming