Tremaine asked Florian, “Did he hurt you?”
“No, if you don’t count the terror.” Florian lifted Tremaine’s hair aside and winced. “Oh, that’s a big bruise.”
“It’ll add distinction to my appearance,” Tremaine managed.
Florian helped her stand and Ander turned to them, asking worriedly, “Are you all right?”
“Oh, fine.” Tremaine pushed her hair back, trying to see past him to the man on the floor. There was an ugly red hole in his chest where the bullet had struck. “Who is he?”
Ander shook his head, looking back at the corpse. “No idea. I was coming up when I heard the commotion. I called for Gerard and Niles, but I was the only one who was armed.” He turned to Tremaine and smiled with relief. “I’m glad you two aren’t hurt.”
Still trembling a little, Florian was selfconsciously pulling her robe closed over her flannelette nightgown and tying the belt. “It happened so fast.”
Niles had stepped into Tiamarc’s room with one of the soldiers. Now he returned, grim-faced. “Tiamarc’s dead. His throat was cut.”
Florian made a faint noise and Tremaine felt her stomach roil. She hadn’t known Tiamarc well, but she was glad she hadn’t seen his body more closely. She said, “He—that man—was in my room. He must have found Tiamarc first.” She followed that thought to its logical conclusion and felt worse. “I suppose he was just. . . moving down the hall, one room at a time.”
“That’s . . .” Florian hugged herself, uncomfortable. “Let’s not suppose that.”
“You walked in on him?” Averi demanded, staring at her. He was an older man than most of the other military personnel assigned to the Institute, with a perpetually grim expression, thinning dark hair and cold blue eyes. The Institute usually tended to get raw recruits or men who had been wounded and sent behind the lines to recover; Averi seemed to be an exception and Tremaine wasn’t sure why.
Tremaine shook her head. “I saw someone had forced the lock on my door and I was going to go for help. He must have heard me.”
Colonel Averi went to examine her door, crouching to look at the lock. He frowned, glancing at her. “How did you know it was forced?”
“I felt the scratches on the lock,” she told him. When he continued to stare in disbelief she added honestly, “I’m a very suspicious person,” not knowing how else to explain it.
“She is,” Ander agreed. At Tremaine’s expression he winced, and added, “Sorry.”
Gerard stood up from his examination of the intruder, his mouth set in a thin line. “This man is a Gardier.”
Colonel Averi turned a shade of red that indicated either shock or extreme rage and turned away, taking one of the soldiers by the arm and giving orders in a harsh undertone, sending the man running off down the corridor.
Tremaine stepped forward, inserting an elbow into Ander’s side to edge him out of the way so she could see. The man sprawled on the ground looked ordinary enough, pale from the winter and maybe a little ill. His cropped hair was short, but not so short as to be out of fashion in a city where most of the men were in the army. “How can you tell?” she asked, warily fascinated.
“He’s resistant to spells,” Niles answered her, his eyes still intent on the dead man. “He has no counter talismans or antietheric agents on him but he got past the wards against intruders.”
“I hit him with that tabletop and the vase, and it barely slowed him down,” Tremaine said as Florian nodded confirmation. “Is he a sorcerer?”
“Gardier don’t send their sorcerers into battle,” Gerard told her. “At least from what we can tell. He’s probably had protective spells cast on him.”
“The ones we faced on the Aderassi border sure did.” Ander reached to pick up the goggles the man had worn, which had fallen next to the body. “These are aether-glasses of some sort, aren’t they?”
Tremaine frowned. The bulky crystal lenses
“No, if you don’t count the terror.” Florian lifted Tremaine’s hair aside and winced. “Oh, that’s a big bruise.”
“It’ll add distinction to my appearance,” Tremaine managed.
Florian helped her stand and Ander turned to them, asking worriedly, “Are you all right?”
“Oh, fine.” Tremaine pushed her hair back, trying to see past him to the man on the floor. There was an ugly red hole in his chest where the bullet had struck. “Who is he?”
Ander shook his head, looking back at the corpse. “No idea. I was coming up when I heard the commotion. I called for Gerard and Niles, but I was the only one who was armed.” He turned to Tremaine and smiled with relief. “I’m glad you two aren’t hurt.”
Still trembling a little, Florian was selfconsciously pulling her robe closed over her flannelette nightgown and tying the belt. “It happened so fast.”
Niles had stepped into Tiamarc’s room with one of the soldiers. Now he returned, grim-faced. “Tiamarc’s dead. His throat was cut.”
Florian made a faint noise and Tremaine felt her stomach roil. She hadn’t known Tiamarc well, but she was glad she hadn’t seen his body more closely. She said, “He—that man—was in my room. He must have found Tiamarc first.” She followed that thought to its logical conclusion and felt worse. “I suppose he was just. . . moving down the hall, one room at a time.”
“That’s . . .” Florian hugged herself, uncomfortable. “Let’s not suppose that.”
“You walked in on him?” Averi demanded, staring at her. He was an older man than most of the other military personnel assigned to the Institute, with a perpetually grim expression, thinning dark hair and cold blue eyes. The Institute usually tended to get raw recruits or men who had been wounded and sent behind the lines to recover; Averi seemed to be an exception and Tremaine wasn’t sure why.
Tremaine shook her head. “I saw someone had forced the lock on my door and I was going to go for help. He must have heard me.”
Colonel Averi went to examine her door, crouching to look at the lock. He frowned, glancing at her. “How did you know it was forced?”
“I felt the scratches on the lock,” she told him. When he continued to stare in disbelief she added honestly, “I’m a very suspicious person,” not knowing how else to explain it.
“She is,” Ander agreed. At Tremaine’s expression he winced, and added, “Sorry.”
Gerard stood up from his examination of the intruder, his mouth set in a thin line. “This man is a Gardier.”
Colonel Averi turned a shade of red that indicated either shock or extreme rage and turned away, taking one of the soldiers by the arm and giving orders in a harsh undertone, sending the man running off down the corridor.
Tremaine stepped forward, inserting an elbow into Ander’s side to edge him out of the way so she could see. The man sprawled on the ground looked ordinary enough, pale from the winter and maybe a little ill. His cropped hair was short, but not so short as to be out of fashion in a city where most of the men were in the army. “How can you tell?” she asked, warily fascinated.
“He’s resistant to spells,” Niles answered her, his eyes still intent on the dead man. “He has no counter talismans or antietheric agents on him but he got past the wards against intruders.”
“I hit him with that tabletop and the vase, and it barely slowed him down,” Tremaine said as Florian nodded confirmation. “Is he a sorcerer?”
“Gardier don’t send their sorcerers into battle,” Gerard told her. “At least from what we can tell. He’s probably had protective spells cast on him.”
“The ones we faced on the Aderassi border sure did.” Ander reached to pick up the goggles the man had worn, which had fallen next to the body. “These are aether-glasses of some sort, aren’t they?”
Tremaine frowned. The bulky crystal lenses
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