airship, and to having all Nicholas’s accumulated knowledge after spending the last few years as one of them. They also had a few old Aelin books, scavenged out of an abandoned library. Nicholas had read them for the Viller Institute researchers, and the books had turned out to be novels, adventure tales of explorers and traders of some earlier age, bearing little resemblance to the Gardier life Tremaine and the others had glimpsed in Maton-devara. But speaking of Nicholas…. Tremaine asked carefully, “Why did you want me to try, though? Hasn’t Nicholas already spoken to her?”
“Yes, but—” Averi hesitated, his brows drawing together, and Tremaine looked down to hide her sudden realization. He meant, “I wanted to confront Balin with someone who has been to the Gardier world who I don’t distrust as much.” It was something of a revelation.
Averi finally finished, “You had quite an effect on her the first time you spoke to her. I think she’s afraid of you.”
Tremaine glanced at Ilias, who lifted an ironic brow, and said in Syrnaic, “He’s talking to you this time.”
T he room used for questioning was bare, with stained plaster over battered wainscoting, but it had a working radiator and was warmer than the hall outside. The only furniture was a scarred table and two straight chairs. The Gardier woman was already seated in one, and two guards, one Rienish and one Capidaran, stood back against the wall. It wouldn’t matter how large the audience was, as Tremaine would question her in Aelin, the Gardier language, something only a few members of the Rienish command knew.
Balin was a tall woman and lean, dressed in a loose white civilian shirt and pants. Her hair was growing back from the bare fuzz that seemed to be regulation for Gardier Service people, probably because she hadn’t been allowed access to a razor or scissors. The color was a muddy brown and it fluffed out around her ears in a particularly foolish way. She looked up, her plain face changing from a kind of weary defiance to watchfulness. “Oh good, you remember me,” Tremaine said, with a patently false smile. She took the other chair, slouching into it casually.
Ilias went to lean against the wall behind Tremaine, and Balin’s eyes followed him with cold disgust. Her gaze came to Tremaine again, and she said in her husky voice, “You. What do you want of me now?”
“The same as I did before. Nothing,” Tremaine replied in Aelin. The sphere had given the language to her the same way it had given her Syrnaic, so she knew it nearly as well as Nicholas did. She shrugged, idly examining her fingernails, surprised to discover that she still hated this woman. When Balin had been captured on the island, squatting on the ground, bound with the chains the Gardier had used on their slaves, she had demanded that her captors surrender. Tremaine would have shot her if Giliead hadn’t taken the rifle away. She said, “But the others have some idea that you were sent to the island to spy on Command for the Scientists or on the Scientists for Command. That you’re not as stupid and useless as we assume.”
Balin didn’t betray any surprise at Tremaine’s knowledge of her language, but she must be used to it now from Averi and Niles and the others who had questioned her. Gardier considered learning other languages as an activity only pursued by a lower order of beings. Balin’s thin lips twisted in amusement. “I know what you want.”
Tremaine met her gaze, a renewed stirring of rage making her eyes narrow and her jaw tighten. She had the realization that she really, really disliked people telling her they knew what she wanted, knew what she thought, when she didn’t know herself and they couldn’t possibly know. She smiled thinly, recognizing that Balin had an unerring talent for saying the wrong thing to her at just the right time. “I’m all attention.”
“You want to know how we make the avatars. This is
“Yes, but—” Averi hesitated, his brows drawing together, and Tremaine looked down to hide her sudden realization. He meant, “I wanted to confront Balin with someone who has been to the Gardier world who I don’t distrust as much.” It was something of a revelation.
Averi finally finished, “You had quite an effect on her the first time you spoke to her. I think she’s afraid of you.”
Tremaine glanced at Ilias, who lifted an ironic brow, and said in Syrnaic, “He’s talking to you this time.”
T he room used for questioning was bare, with stained plaster over battered wainscoting, but it had a working radiator and was warmer than the hall outside. The only furniture was a scarred table and two straight chairs. The Gardier woman was already seated in one, and two guards, one Rienish and one Capidaran, stood back against the wall. It wouldn’t matter how large the audience was, as Tremaine would question her in Aelin, the Gardier language, something only a few members of the Rienish command knew.
Balin was a tall woman and lean, dressed in a loose white civilian shirt and pants. Her hair was growing back from the bare fuzz that seemed to be regulation for Gardier Service people, probably because she hadn’t been allowed access to a razor or scissors. The color was a muddy brown and it fluffed out around her ears in a particularly foolish way. She looked up, her plain face changing from a kind of weary defiance to watchfulness. “Oh good, you remember me,” Tremaine said, with a patently false smile. She took the other chair, slouching into it casually.
Ilias went to lean against the wall behind Tremaine, and Balin’s eyes followed him with cold disgust. Her gaze came to Tremaine again, and she said in her husky voice, “You. What do you want of me now?”
“The same as I did before. Nothing,” Tremaine replied in Aelin. The sphere had given the language to her the same way it had given her Syrnaic, so she knew it nearly as well as Nicholas did. She shrugged, idly examining her fingernails, surprised to discover that she still hated this woman. When Balin had been captured on the island, squatting on the ground, bound with the chains the Gardier had used on their slaves, she had demanded that her captors surrender. Tremaine would have shot her if Giliead hadn’t taken the rifle away. She said, “But the others have some idea that you were sent to the island to spy on Command for the Scientists or on the Scientists for Command. That you’re not as stupid and useless as we assume.”
Balin didn’t betray any surprise at Tremaine’s knowledge of her language, but she must be used to it now from Averi and Niles and the others who had questioned her. Gardier considered learning other languages as an activity only pursued by a lower order of beings. Balin’s thin lips twisted in amusement. “I know what you want.”
Tremaine met her gaze, a renewed stirring of rage making her eyes narrow and her jaw tighten. She had the realization that she really, really disliked people telling her they knew what she wanted, knew what she thought, when she didn’t know herself and they couldn’t possibly know. She smiled thinly, recognizing that Balin had an unerring talent for saying the wrong thing to her at just the right time. “I’m all attention.”
“You want to know how we make the avatars. This is
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