The Gate of Gods (Fall of the Ile-Rien) Read Online Free PDF Page B

further. They spoke quietly, calm but with signs of strain showing in tired eyes and worried voices. They were Rienish, Parscians and Aderassi who hadn’t enough funds to find a place in the city or who had no relatives or friends here to support them. The Maiutans, all of whom were ex-prisoners of the Gardier, would have been in even worse straits, without even an overworked Embassy to appeal to. But some of the freed prisoners had been Lowlands Missionaries who had known which local charitable organizations to alert, and several contingents of volunteers had managed to hurry off the Maiutans before the Capidaran government had been able to stop them. The others were supposed to have dual citizenship with Capidara, so they could leave if they wanted, but employment was scarce and most had nowhere else to go. The lobby smelled of must and dust and fear sweat.
    Tremaine had almost reached the stairs when one of the harried desk clerks hurried over, holding a folded slip of paper. “Madam Valiarde! A message for you.”
    As one of the few people still in the hostel who could actually afford to tip, Tremaine usually got extra attention. She exchanged the hoped-for Capidaran coin for the message and unfolded the paper. There was nothing on it but an address. She stared at it blankly, then realized what this must be. He found a house. She wondered how. Accommodation was supposed to be nearly impossible to get in the crowded city, and Gerard had needed a large room for experiments with Arisilde’s sphere. “Did they clear out our rooms?”
    “Yes, madam.” The man sounded relieved. The entire staff was somewhat nervous of the Syprians, and Giliead in particular was in no mood to be friendly. Tremaine counted the staff lucky; it would have been much worse if Pasima’s group had been staying there as well. “They said we could give the space to someone else.”
    “Yes, that’s right.” She tucked the address away in her pocket with a mental sigh. There was no telling what shape the house would be in and she suspected real food and real rest were a long way in the future.
    Preoccupied, she turned back toward the front door, hoping she could find a taxicab driver who knew the street. Her path blocked, she looked up to find herself facing Ander Destan.
    Ander was dressed as a civilian, in a tan pullover and a leather jacket. The shopkeepers and market stalls had been doing good business with the refugees who had money, all of whom were buying clothes, blankets and other items that would quickly become scarce once the bombing started here. Smiling, Ander said, “You look lovely. That outfit suits you.”
    Tremaine regarded him blankly. She distrusted compliments on her appearance in principle, but she really couldn’t find anything in that statement to object to. It made an interesting contrast to what Ilias had said when she had gotten dressed this morning, which had been “Why do you wear clothes that hide your breasts? It’s not as if anyone’s going to think you don’t have any.” Come to think of it, she hadn’t been able to muster a suitable reply to that one either. “Are you waiting for Gerard? He’s going to be trapped in the meeting for a while longer.”
    “I was waiting for you, actually,” he said, and gave her that slow warm smile that had worked so well on her and so many women in the past.
    Tremaine eyed him, unimpressed. “Really.”
    Ander let out his breath, the smile turning wry. “I suppose only the truth will do.”
    “Some people prefer it,” she acknowledged that warily.
    “I know Gerard and the others have some sort of plan afoot—”
    Tremaine rolled her eyes, annoyed. “And you thought you’d get it out of me with a few compliments. That’s a new interrogation technique. ‘My, what a nice hat. Give me the secret plans—’ ”
    “Tremaine! You know that’s not what I—” He eyed her. “Maybe you don’t know. Can we start over?”
    Starting over would take years, and she