Ilse Witch

12

Redden Alt Mer and Rue Meridian took Walker along the dockside for several hundred yards, then turned onto a narrow pier bracketed by skiffs. Stopping at a weathered craft with a knockdown mast and single sail and a rudder attached to a hand tiller at the stern, they held her steady while the Druid boarded, then quickly cast off. Within seconds, they were out of sight of the dock, the village, and any hint of land. The Rovers placed Walker in the bow with directions to keep an eye open for floating debris, and went about putting up the mast and sail. Walker glanced around uneasily. As far as he could determine, they had no way of judging where they were or where they were going. It did not seem to matter. Once the sail was up and filled with a steady wind off the sea, they sat back, Alt Mer at the stern and his sister amidships, tacking smoothly and steadily into the night.

It was a strange experience, even for the Druid. Now and then a scattering of stars would appear through the clouds, and once or twice the moon broke through, high and to their right. But for that, they sailed in a cauldron of fog and darkness and unchanging sea. At least the water was calm, as black and depthless as ink, rolling and sloshing comfortably below the gunwales. Redden Alt Mer whistled and hummed, and his sister stared off into the night. No bird cries sounded. No lights appeared. Walker found his thoughts drifting to a renewed consideration of the ambiguity and uncertainty of what he was about. It was more than just the night’s business that troubled him; it was the entire enterprise. It was as vague and shrouded as the darkness and the fog in which he drifted, all awash in unanswered questions and vague possibilities. He knew a few things and could guess at a few more, but the rest—the greater part of what lay ahead—remained a mystery.

They sailed for several hours in their cocoon of changeless sounds and sights, wrapped by the darkness and silence as if sleepers who drowsed before waking. It came as a surprise when Rue Meridian lit an oil lamp and hooked it to the front of the mast. The light blazed bravely in a futile effort to cut through the darkness, but seemed able to penetrate no more than a few feet. Redden Alt Mer had taken a seat on the bench that ran across the skiff’s stern, his arm hooked over the tiller, his feet propped up on the rail. He nodded to his sister when the light was in place, and she moved forward to change places with Walker.

Shortly after, a sailing vessel appeared before them, looming abruptly out of the night, this one much larger and better manned. Even in the darkness, Walker could estimate a crew of six or seven, all working the rigging on the twin masts. A rope was tossed to Rue Meridian, who tied it to the bow of the skiff. Her brother put out the lamp, hauled down the sail, took down the mast, and resumed his seat. Their work was done in moments, and the towrope tightened and jerked as they were hauled ahead.

“Nothing to do now until we get to where we’re going,” the Rover Captain offered, stretching out comfortably on the bench. In moments, he was asleep.

Rue Meridian sat with Walker amidships. After a few moments, she said, “Nothing ever seems to bother him. I’ve seen him sleep while we’re flying into battle. It isn’t that he’s incautious or unconcerned. Big Red is always ready when he’s needed. It’s just that he knows how to let go of everything all at once and then pick it up again when it’s time.”

Her eyes swept the dark perfunctorily as she talked. “He’ll tell you he’s the best because he believes it. He’ll tell you he should be your Captain because he’s confident he should be. You might think him boastful or brash; you might even think him reckless. He’s neither. He’s just very good at flying airships.” She paused. “No, not just good. He’s much better than that. He’s great. He’s gifted. He is the best I’ve ever known, the best that anyone’s ever seen. The soldiers talked about him on the Prekkendorran like that. Everyone who knows him does. They think he’s got luck. And he does, but it’s mostly luck he makes by being brave and smart and talented.”

She glanced at him. “Do I sound like a younger sister talking about a big brother she idolizes?” She snorted softly. “I am, but I’m not deceived by my feelings for him. I’ve been his protector and conscience for too long. We were born to the same mother, different fathers. We never knew either father very well, just vague memories. They were sailors, wanderers. Our mother died when we were still very young. I looked after him for much of his life; I was better at it than he was. I know him; I understand him. I know his abilities and shortcomings, strengths and weaknesses. I’ve seen him succeed and fail. I wouldn’t lie about him to anyone, least of all to myself. So when I tell you Big Red is worth two of any other man, you should listen to me. When I tell you he’s the best man you’ll find for your journey, you ought to pay attention.”

“I am,” Walker said quietly.

She smiled. “Well, where would you go if you didn’t want to? You’re my captive audience.” She paused, studying him. “You have intelligence, Walker. I can see you thinking all the time. I look inside your eyes and see your mind at work. You listen, you measure, and you judge accordingly. You’ll make your own decision about this expedition and us. What I say won’t influence you. That’s not why I’m telling you how I feel about Big Red. I’m telling you so you will know where I stand.”

She paused and waited, and after a moment, he nodded. “That’s fair enough.”

She sighed and shifted on the seat. “Frankly, I don’t care about the money. I have enough of that. What I don’t have is peace of mind or a sense of future or something to believe in again. I had those once, when I was younger. Somewhere along the way, I lost them. I’m sick at heart and worn-out. The past three years, fighting on the Prekkendorran, chasing Free-born back and forth across the heights, killing them now and then, burning their airships, spilling fire on their camps—it charred my soul. The whole business was stupid. A war over land, over territorial rights, over national dominion—what does any of it matter? Except for the money, I have nothing to show for that experience.”

She fixed him with her green eyes. “I don’t sense this about your expedition. I don’t feel that a Druid would bother with something so petty. Tell me the truth—is your enterprise going to offer anything more?”

She was so intense as she stared at him that he was momentarily taken aback by her depth of feeling. “I’m not sure,” he said after a moment. “There is more to what I’m asking you to do than the money I’ve offered. There are lives at stake besides our own. There are freedoms to be lost and maybe a world to be changed for better or worse. I can’t see far enough into the future to be certain. But I can tell you this much. By going, we might make a difference that will mean something to you later.”

She smiled. “We’re going to save the world, is that it?”

His face remained expressionless. “We might.”

The smile disappeared. “All right, I won’t make a joke of it. I won’t even suggest you might be overstating what’s possible. I’ll allow myself to believe a little in what you’re promising. It can’t hurt. A little belief on both sides might be a good beginning to a partnership, don’t you think?”

He nodded, smiling. “I do.”

Bird cries heralded the arrival of dawn, and as the early light broke through the darkness, massive cliffs rose against the skyline, craggy and barren facings lashed by wind and surf. At first it appeared as if there was no way through the formidable barrier. But the ship ahead lit a lantern and hoisted it aloft, and a pair of lamps responding from shoreside indicated the approach. Even then, it was not apparent that an opening existed until they were almost on top of it. The light was thin and faint, the air clogged by mist and spray, and the thunder of waves crashing on the rocks an unmistakable warning to stay clear. But the Captain of the ship ahead proceeded without hesitation, navigating between rocks large enough to sink even his craft, let alone the skiff in which Walker rode.

Redden Alt Mer was awake again, standing at the tiller, steering the skiff with a sure hand in the wake of the two-master. Walker glanced back at him, and was surprised to find his features alive with happiness and expectation. Alt Mer was enjoying this, caught up in the excitement and challenge of sailing, at home in a way most could never be.

Standing next to him, Rue Meridian was smiling, as well.

They passed through the rocks and into a narrow channel, the skiff rising and falling on the roiling sea. Gulls and cormorants circled overhead, their cries echoing eerily off the cliff walls. Ahead lay a broad cove surrounded by forested cliffs with waterfalls that tumbled hundreds of feet out of the misted heights. As they sailed from the turbulence of the channel into the relative calm of the harbor, the sounds of wind and surf faded and the waters smoothed. Behind them, the lamps that had been lit to guide their way in winked out.

Etched out of gloom and mist, the first signs of a settlement appeared. There was no mistaking its nature. A sprawling shipyard fronted the waters of the cove, complete with building cradles and docks, forges, and timber stores. A cluster of ships lay anchored at the north end of the cove, sleek and dark against the silvery waters, and by the glint of radian draws and the odd slant of light sheaths furled and waiting for release, Walker recognized them as airships.

As they neared the shoreline, the towing ship dropped anchor, and a small transport was lowered with a pair of sailors at the oars. It rowed back to the skiff and took Walker and the Rovers aboard. Alt Mer and his sister greeted the sailors familiarly, but did not introduce the Druid. They rowed ashore through hazy light and swooping birds and disembarked at one of the docks. Dockworkers were hauling supplies back and forth along the waterfront, and laborers were just beginning their workday. The sounds of hammers and saws broke the calm, and the settlement seemed to come awake all at once.

“This way,” Redden Alt Mer advised, starting off down the dock toward the beach.

They stepped onto dry land and proceeded left through the shipyards, past the forges and cradles, to where a building sat facing the water. A broad covered porch fronted the building, with narrow trestle tables set along its length. Sheaves of paper were spread upon the tables and held in place by bricks. Men worked their way from one set of papers to the next, examining their writings, marking them for adjustments and revisions.

The man who supervised this work looked up at their approach and then came down the steps to meet them. He was a huge, burly fellow with arms and legs like tree trunks, a head of wild black hair, and a ruddy, weathered face partially obscured by a thick beard. He wore the bright sashes and gold earrings favored by Rovers, and his scowl belied the twinkle in his bird-sharp eyes.

“Morning, all,” he growled, sounding less than cheerful. His black eyes lit on Walker. “Hope you’re a customer who’s deaf, dumb, and blind, and comes ready to share a small fortune with those less fortunate than yourself. Because if not, I might as well kill you now and have done with it. Big Red knows the rules.”

Walker did not change expression or evidence concern, even when he heard Redden Alt Mer groan. “I’ve been told that by coming here I have a chance to do business with the best shipbuilder alive. Would that be you?”

“It would.” The black eyes shifted to Alt Mer suspiciously, then back to Walker. “You don’t look stupid, but then you don’t look like a man with a fat purse, either. Who are you?”

“I’m called Walker.”

The burly man studied him in silence. “The Druid?”

Walker nodded.

“Well, well, well. This might prove interesting after all. What would bring a Druid out of Paranor these days? Don’t think it would be anything small.” He stuck out a massive hand. “I’m Spanner Frew.”

Walker accepted the hand and shook it. The hand felt as if it had been cast in iron. “Druids go where they are needed,” he said.

“That must be extremely difficult when there is only one of you.” Spanner Frew chuckled, a deep, booming rasp. “How did you have the misfortune to fall in with these thieves? Not that young Rue wouldn’t turn the head of any man, mine included.”

“Cicatrix sent them to me.”

“Ah, a brave and unfortunate man,” the shipbuilder allowed with a solemn nod, surprising Walker. “Lost everything but his mind in a shipwreck that wasn’t his fault but was blamed on him nevertheless. Do you know about it?”

“Only the rumors. I know Cicatrix from other places and times. Enough to trust him.”

“Well said. So you’ve tied in with Big and Little Red and come looking for a shipbuilder. That must mean you have a voyage in mind and need a ship worthy of the effort. Tell me about it.”

Walker provided a brief overview of what it was he required and how it would be used. He gave Spanner Frew no more information than he had Redden Alt Mer, but was encouraging where he could be. He had already decided he liked the man. What remained to be determined was his skill as a craftsman.

When Walker was finished, Spanner Frew’s scowl deepened and his brow creased. “This would be a long voyage you’re planning, one that could take years perhaps?”

Walker nodded.

“You’ll need your ship for living quarters, supplies, and cargo when you arrive at your destination. You’ll need it for defense against the enemies you might encounter. You’ll need it to be weatherworthy, because there’s storms on the Blue Divide that can shred a ship of the line in minutes.” He was listing Walker’s requirements in a matter-of-fact way, no longer asking questions. “You’ll need weapons that will serve on both land and air. You’ll need replacement parts that can’t be found on your travels—radian draws and ambient-light sheaves, parse crystals and the like. A big order. Very big.”

He glanced at the workmen behind him, then off at the harbor. “But your resources are plentiful and your purse is deep?”

Walker nodded once more.

Spanner Frew folded his beefy arms. “I have the ship for you. Just completed, a sort of prototype for an entire line. There’s nothing else like her flying the Four Lands. She’s a warship, but built for long-range travel and extended service. I was going to offer her on the open market, a special item for those fools who keep trying to kill each other above the Prekkendorran. If they liked her well enough, and I think they would, I’d build them a few dozen more and retire a rich man.” His scowl became a menacing grin. “But I would rather sell her to you, I think. Care for a look?”

He took them north all the way through the shipyards to where the beach opened on a series of rocky outcroppings and the fleet Walker had seen earlier when entering the harbor lay at rest. There were nearly a dozen ships of various sizes, but only one that caught the Druid’s eye. He knew it was the ship Spanner Frew had been talking about even before the other spoke.

“That’s her,” the burly shipbuilder indicated with a nod and a gesture. “You picked her out right away, didn’t you?”

She was built like a catamaran, but much larger. She was low and sleek and wicked looking, her wood and stays and even her light sheaves dark in color, and her twin masts raked ever so slightly, giving her the appearance of being in motion even when she lay at rest. Her decking rested on a pair of pontoons set rather close together, their ends hooking upward into twin horns at either end, their midsections divided into what appeared to be fighting compartments that could hold men and weapons. Her railings slanted away and back from her sides, bow, and stern to allow for storage and protection from weather and attacks. The pilothouse sat amidships between the masts, raised well above the decking and enclosed by shields that gave ample protection to the helmsman. Low, flat living quarters and storage housing sat forward and aft of the masts, broad but curved in the shape of the decking and pontoons to minimize wind resistance. The living and sleeping quarters were set into the decking and extended almost to the waterline, giving an unexpected depth to the space.

Everything was smooth and curved and gleamed like polished metal, even in the faint, misted light of the cove.

“She’s beautiful,” Walker said, turning to Spanner Frew. “How does she fly?”

“Like she looks. Like a dream. I’ve had her up myself and tested her. She’ll do everything you ask of her and more. She lacks the size and weapons capability of a ship of the line, but she more than makes up for it in speed and agility. Of course,” he added, glancing now at Redden Alt Mer, “she needs a proper Captain.”

Walker nodded. “I’m looking for one. Do you have any suggestions?”

The shipbuilder broke into a long gale of laughter, practically doubling over from the effort. “Oh, that’s very good, very funny! I hope you caught the look on Big Red’s face when you said that! Why, he looked as if he’d been jerked by his short hairs! Hah, you do make me laugh, Druid!”

Walker’s solemn face was directed back toward the ship. “Well, I’m glad you’re amused, but the question is a serious one. The bargain we strike for the purchase of the ship includes the builder’s agreement to come with her.”

Spanner Frew stopped laughing at once. “What? What did you say?”

“Put yourself in my position,” Walker replied mildly, still looking out at the harbor and the ship. “I’m a stranger seeking the help of a people who are notorious for striking bargains that have more than one interpretation. Rovers don’t lie in their business dealings, but they do shade the truth and bend the rules when it benefits them. I accept this. I am a part of an order that has been known to do the same. But how do I protect myself in a situation where the advantage is all the other way?”

“You had best place a tight hold on—” the shipbuilder began, but Walker cut him short with a gesture.

“Just listen a moment. Redden Alt Mer tells me he is the best airship Captain alive. Rue Meridian agrees. You tell me you are the best shipbuilder alive and this craft you wish to sell me is the best airship ever built. I will assume all of you agree that I can do no better, so I won’t even ask. In fact, I’m inclined to agree, from what I’ve seen and heard. I believe you. But since I’m going to give you half your money in advance, how do I reassure myself that I haven’t made a mistake?”

He turned now and faced them squarely. “I do it by taking you with me. I don’t think for a moment you would sail in a ship or with a Captain you don’t trust. If you go, it means you have faith in both and I know I haven’t been misled.”

“But I can’t go!” Spanner Frew shouted in fury.

Walker paused. “Why not?”

“Because … because I’m a builder, not a sailor!”

“Agreed. That’s mostly why I want you with me. Those repairs you spoke of earlier, the ones that would be required after an encounter with enemies or storms. I would feel better if you were supervising them.”

The shipbuilder gestured expansively at the shore behind them. “I can’t leave all these projects half completed! They need my skills here! There are others just as competent who can go in my place!”

“Leave them,” Walker said calmly. “If they are as competent as you, let them complete your work here.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they were almost touching. Spanner Frew, his face flushed and scowling, held his ground. “I haven’t told this to many, but I will tell it to you. What we go to do is more important than anything you will ever do here. What is required of those who do go is a courage and strength of will and heart that few possess. I think you are one. Don’t disappoint me. Don’t refuse me out of hand. Give some thought to what I’m saying before you make up your mind.”

There was a momentary silence. Then Redden Alt Mer cleared his throat. “That sounds fair, Spanner.”

The shipbuilder wheeled on him. “I don’t care a whit what you think is fair or not, Big Red! This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with him,” Rue Meridian cut in sharply. She gave him a slow, mocking smile. “What’s the matter, Black Beard? Have you grown old and timid?”

For just a moment, Walker thought the burly shipbuilder was going to explode. He stood there shaking with fury and frustration, his big hands knotted. “I wouldn’t let anyone else alive speak to me like that!” he hissed at her.

A knife appeared in her hand as if by magic. She flipped it in the air above her, caught it, and made it vanish in the blink of an eye. “You used to be a pretty fair pirate, Spanner Frew,” she prodded. “Wouldn’t you like the chance to be one again? How long since you’ve sailed the Blue Divide?”

“How long since you’ve ridden the back of the wind to a new land?” her brother added. “It would make you young again, Spanner. The Druid’s right. Come with us.”

Rue Meridian looked at Walker. “You’ll pay him, of course. The same as you’ll pay Big Red and me.”

She made it a statement of fact for him to affirm, and he did so with a nod. Spanner Frew looked from face to face in disbelief. “You’re committed to this, aren’t you?” he demanded of Walker.

The Druid nodded.

“Shades!” the shipbuilder breathed softly. Then abruptly he shrugged. “Well, let it lay for now. Let’s sit for breakfast and see how we feel when we have full stomachs. I could eat a horse, saddle and all. Hah!” he roared, pounding his midsection. “Come along, you bunch of thieves! Trying to drag an honest man off on a voyage to nowhere! Trying to make a poor shipbuilder think he might have something to offer a clutch of madmen and madder women! Spare me, I hope you’ve not picked my purse, as well!”

He wheeled back in the direction of the settlement, shouting out epithets and protests as he went, leaving them to follow after.

They ate breakfast in a communal dining hall assembled beneath a huge tent, the cooking fires and pots all set toward the back of the enclosure where they could vent, the tables and benches toward the front. Everything had a makeshift, knockdown look to it, and when Walker asked Spanner Frew how long the settlement had been there, the shipbuilder advised him that they moved at least every other year to protect themselves. They were Rovers in the old tradition, and the nature of their lives and business dealings involved a certain amount of risk and required at least a modicum of secrecy. They valued anonymity and mobility, even when they weren’t directly threatened by those who found them a nuisance or considered them enemies, and it made them feel more secure to shift periodically from one location to another. It wasn’t difficult, the big man explained. There were dozens of coves like this one located up and down the coast, and only the equally reclusive and discreet Wing Riders knew them as well.

As they dined, Spanner Frew explained that those who worked and lived here frequently brought their families, and that the settlement provided housing and food for all. The younger members of the family were trained in the shipbuilding crafts or pressed into service in related pursuits. All contributed to the welfare of the community, and all were sworn to secrecy concerning the settlement’s location and work. These were open secrets in the larger Rover community, but Rovers never revealed such things to outsiders unless first ascertaining that they were trustworthy. So it was that Walker would not have found Spanner Frew if Cicatrix had not first assured Redden Alt Mer of the Druid’s character.

“Otherwise, you would have been approached in March Brume and a business deal struck there,” the shipbuilder grunted around a mouthful of hash, “which, come to think of it, might have been just as well for me!”

Nevertheless, by the time breakfast was finished, Spanner Frew was talking as if he might be reconsidering his insistence on not going with Walker. He began cataloguing the supplies and equipment that would be required, advising as to where they might best be stored, mulling over the nature of the crew to be assembled, and weighing the role he might play as helmsman, a position he had mastered years earlier in his time at sea. He reassured Walker that Redden Alt Mer was the best airship Captain he knew and was the right choice for the journey. He said little about Rue Meridian, beyond commenting now and then on her enchanting looks and sharp tongue, but it was clear he believed brother and sister a formidable team. Walker said little, letting the garrulous shipbuilder carry the conversation, marking the looks that passed between the three, and taking mental notes on the way they interacted with one another.

“One thing I want understood from the beginning,” Redden Alt Mer said at one point, addressing the Druid directly. “If we agree to accept you as expedition leader, you must agree in turn that as Captain I command aboard ship. All decisions regarding the operation of the vessel and the safety of the crew and passengers while in flight will be mine.”

Neither Rue Meridian nor Spanner Frew showed any inclination to disagree. After a moment’s consideration, Walker nodded, as well.

“In all things,” he corrected gently, “save matters of destination and rate of progress. In those, you must give way to me. Where we go and how fast we get there is my province alone.”

“Save where you endanger us, perhaps unknowingly,” the other declared with a smile, unwilling to back down completely. “Then, you must heed my advice.”

“Then,” Walker replied, “we will talk.”

They rowed out to the ship afterwards, and Spanner Frew walked them from bow to stern, explaining how she was constructed and what she could do. Walker studied closely the ship’s configuration, from fighting ports to pilothouse, noting everything, asking questions when it was necessary, growing steadily more confident of the ship’s ability to do what was needed. But already he was reassessing the amount of space he had determined would be available for use, realizing that more would be needed for weapons and supplies than he had anticipated. Consequently, he would have to scale down the number of expedition members. The crew was already pared down to a bare minimum, even with the addition of Spanner Frew. That meant he would have to reduce his complement of fighting men. The Elves would not like that, but there was no help for it. Forty men were too many. At best, they could take thirty-five, and even that would be crowding the living space.

He discussed this at length with the Rovers, trying to find a way to make better use of the available space. Redden Alt Mer said the crew could sleep above decks in hammocks strung between masts and railings, and Spanner Frew suggested they could reduce their supplies and equipment if they were willing to chance that foraging in the course of their travels would produce what was needed in the way of replacements. It was a balancing act, an educated guessing game at determining what would suffice, but Walker was somewhat reassured by the fact that they would have the aid of Wing Riders for foraging purposes and so could afford to take chances they might otherwise never have considered.

By the close of the day, they had settled on what was needed in the way of onboard adjustments and compiled a list of supplies and equipment to be secured. A crew of Redden Alt Mer’s choosing would be found in the surrounding seaports and could be readily assembled. Ship, Captain, and crew, Spanner Frew included, could be in Arborlon within a week.

Walker was satisfied. Everything was proceeding as he had hoped. After a good night’s sleep, he would depart for March Brume.

But he was to get little rest that night.

The attack on the settlement came just before sunset. A sentry perched high on a cliff overlooking the cove blew a ram’s horn in warning, three sharp blasts that shattered the twilight calm and sent everyone scurrying. By the time the dark hulls of the airships hove into view through the gap in the cove entry, sailing out of the glare of the setting sun, the Rover women and children and old people were already fleeing into the forests and mountains and the Rover men were preparing to defend them.

But the attacking ships outnumbered those of the Rovers by more than two to one, and they were already airborne and readied for their strike. They streamed through the harbor entrance in a dark line, flying less than a hundred feet above the water, railings and fighting ports bristling with men and weapons. Fire from casks of pitch and catapults rained down on the exposed vessels and their crews. Spears and arrows filled the air. Half of the Rover ships burned and sank before their sails could even be hoisted. Dozens of men died in the ensuing conflagrations and many more died in the small boats attempting to reach them.

Solely by chance, Walker and his three Rover companions were spared the fate of so many. Just before the attack arrived, they had been testing the responsiveness of their ship. As a result, they were still aboard when the warning was given, light sheaths yet unfurled, radian draws in place, and the anchor barely down. The Rovers acted instantly, leaping to tighten the stays and reset the draws, cutting the anchor with a sword stroke, and casting off. In seconds, they were airborne, lifting toward their attackers like a swift, black bird. Even with only three hands to sail her, she responded with a quickness and agility that left the enemy ships looking as if they were standing still.

A safety line secured about his waist, Walker crouched just in front of the pilothouse and behind the forward mast and watched the land and water spin away in a dizzying rush. With Spanner Frew and Rue Meridian manning the starboard and port draws respectively, Redden Alt Mer wheeled their sleek craft recklessly through the dark line of attackers, nearly colliding with those nearest. The hulls of ships loomed on either side, sliding past like night phantoms, great massive ghosts at hunt. Some passed so close that Walker could identify the Federation uniforms worn by the soldiers who knelt in the fighting ports firing their arrows and launching their spears.

“Hold tight!” Alt Mer shouted down to him from atop his precarious station, hauling back on the steering levers to gain more height and speed.

Missiles flew everywhere, dark projectiles against the twin glows of the sunset and the fires in the harbor. Walker flattened himself against the rough wall of the pilothouse, protecting his back. He did not want to use magic. If he did, he would reveal his presence, and he thought it best not to do so. To his right, crouched deep in one of the fighting ports, so close to the nearest ship that he could have reached out and touched it, Spanner Frew was cursing loudly under a hail of bow fire. Across from him, Rue Meridian was dashing recklessly from draw to draw, miraculously avoiding the barrage of arrows that sailed all around her, dark face grim and determined as she set the lines.

Their wild, hair-raising escape was punctuated by the underside of their ship raking across the mastheads of the last attacker as they finally gained the safety of the open skies. All about them, the remaining Rover airships were fleeing into the darkness, skimming across the cliff tops, and disappearing down the coast. Below, their attackers were descending on the settlement buildings, setting fire to everything, and driving the last of the residents into the surrounding forests. Masts jutting sharply against the flaming debris, dark hulls glided everywhere.

As their vessel steadied and their passage smoothed, Rue Meridian appeared at Walker’s side. “Those were Federation ships!” she snapped angrily. Her face was streaked with soot and sweat. “They must be madder at us than I thought! All those people driven out or killed, their ships and homes burned, just to make a point?”

Walker shook his head. “I don’t think it was you they were after.” He caught her startled gaze and held it. “Nor do I think it was the Federation who was behind this witch hunt.”

She hesitated a moment, then let her breath out in a long, slow hiss of understanding.

Behind them, hidden by the cliffs they were fleeing and reduced to a reddish-yellow glow against the darkness of night, Rover buildings burned unhindered to the ground and gutted airships sank into the deep.