Ilse Witch (21 page)

The lady for whom he gathered information from time to time would pay him well for this bit, he thought excitedly. Enough that he could buy that blade he had admired for so long. Enough that he and his grandmother could eat well for weeks to come.

He fastened the message to the leg of one of the odd, fierce-eyed birds she had given him, walked back outside with the bird tucked carefully under his arm, and sent it winging off into the night.

R
edden 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.”