The one time he threw caution to the winds—months after he knew he should have gone to see her—she wasn’t there when he arrived. Her little house was locked and no one within responded when he pounded on the door. He asked a few people who lived nearby if they knew where she was, but they only shook their heads or shrugged.

He left without finding her and hadn’t been back since.

Five years.

Now he found himself uncertain about how he felt. Did he still care for her as much as he had before? Perhaps his infatuation was peculiar to that time and place and the events surrounding both, and couldn’t sustain itself. He still thought of her, but it seemed impossible now that he could go back and find things between them the same. Or even find her waiting. She would have found someone else by now. She was independent-minded and practical. She would have decided long ago that he wasn’t coming back.

Perhaps she had seen things more clearly than he had.

Besides, here he was stealing glances at Avelene, finding her attractive and interesting, thinking of what it would be like to be with her. If he was thinking such thoughts, how could he expect to begin a fresh relationship with Leofur?

He was lonely; he could admit it to himself if not to anyone else. He wanted to share his life with someone, wanted to be in love, wanted to have more than what he had gained by becoming the Ard Rhys’s Blade. Perhaps that was selfish and greedy. Wasn’t being a part of the Druid Order what he had worked so hard to attain? Did he really need to have someone to love, too? If so, wasn’t it easier to find someone already close to him, someone who could share his life’s work?

He was still mulling this over when his eyes grew heavy from the fresh air and sun, and he fell asleep.

When they reached the village of Portlow it was late afternoon, and the sun was already slipping toward the horizon. The village was small, barely filling a wide space in the forests surrounding it. A single road wound through its center; the businesses on either side—many of them taverns—stood shoulder-to-shoulder for perhaps four hundred yards. Several clusters of residences bracketed the town north and south. There were fenced pastures with horses and cows and a scattering of crop fields that looked small and unproductive and more on the order of private gardens. There were a few sheds and isolated barns, and not much of anything else. This was a poor community, and neither Paxon nor Avelene could understand exactly why it was even here.

It struck the Highlander that if you wanted to disappear off the face of the earth, this would be a good place to do it. Because anyone who had use of magic in the Southland, where it had been outlawed for decades, would not want to make it public knowledge, and he imagined very little attention was paid to whatever happened here.

The village was too small for a regular airfield, so they had the Trolls land the clipper at the edge of a plowed field near the north end of the village. While the crew unhooked the radian draws and pulled down the light sheaths, Paxon turned to Avelene.

“You need to take off your robes,” he said.

She gave him a look. “I do?”

“If you go into a Southland village as a Druid, no one will talk to you. No one will have anything to do with you. We need to look like other travelers passing through. Starks taught me that. So take off your robes.”

She went belowdecks and changed, appearing again wearing pants and a tunic with a long knife belted at her waist. She touched the hilt of the knife. “This is just for appearances. I don’t know anything about using blades.”

“You don’t have to know anything,” he said. He reached for the Sword of Leah and strapped it across his back. “That’s why I’m here.”

After giving brief instructions to the Druid Guards, they climbed down from the airship and began walking toward the village.

“I’ve never done this sort of thing before,” Avelene admitted as they neared the first of the residences. “I’ve never been on a search. All my work has been at Paranor. Can you tell me what to expect?”

“It’s not complicated,” he assured her. “We’ll go into the village and find a tavern that serves food. It’s almost dinnertime, so we should eat. We’ll listen; maybe we’ll exchange a few words with the residents. Perhaps we can learn something about the magic. The use was recent. You said yourself it was noticeable. Someone must have seen something.”

She nodded. “All right. What do we tell people if they ask about us?”

He thought about it a moment. “These are rural people. They won’t be open to anything that seems out of the ordinary. So we tell them we are newlyweds traveling to visit your aunt and uncle in Sterne. We’ll have to spend the night here unless we get very lucky, so we’ll take a room. I don’t want you sleeping alone—in a separate room, I mean—where I can’t protect you if you need it.”

“Is this the story you usually use on these outings?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Usually I don’t have the pleasure of a woman’s company.” He grinned. “Especially not one with your talents.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away. “I was right. You really are a silver-tongued fellow.”

They reached what was clearly a popular inn, with tables and chairs set outside along the front wall as well inside. They went into the building, found the innkeeper, asked for a room, and went up to drop what little gear they had brought. The room had a single large bed, a chair, a table, a closet, and that was it. Without comment, they left their belongings and went back down to the tavern. Sitting in a corner near the bar, they ordered food and ale, and sat quietly eating and drinking as they listened to the conversations taking place around them.

For a long time, no one said anything about unusual occurrences or the presence of an unexpected magic. But after the first hour, Avelene reached across the table and said quietly, “Table to my left.”

Two men were sitting there, workingmen and friends by the look of them, nursing tankards of ale as they leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. Paxon listened carefully, but he only caught snatches of what they were saying.

“ … no sign of any of them!” the first insisted, shaking his head.

“I thought sure … come in to make the boy … disappear … like he did Borry.”

“Not enough left … that he was human. Explosion … earth burned all around. Torn apart, Rab! Did you … mess … ?”

“ … just pieces, all’s I saw.” The man drank deeply, shuddered. “How could … happen? What creature …”

“What I been saying! Fortrens got to come for him! You know … will sooner or later.”

“Gammon … won’t allow … so there’s no one who … you wait, something …”

They went silent then, brooding over their drink, eyes lowered to the tabletop.

Paxon leaned across the table. “Stay here.”

She grabbed him by the wrist and held him fast. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “No, let me do this. You get up first and walk up to the bar and order us two more tankards. Stay there until I signal you.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. He had misgivings, but she seemed confident. Besides, as a Druid, she was in charge. He rose, walked to the serving counter, and stood there until he got the barkeeper’s attention. After giving his order, he glanced back to see Avelene seated at the table with the two men, deep in conversation.

“You never know,” he muttered to himself.

He waited patiently. The fresh tankards were delivered and he paid. Avelene was still talking to the men. He waited some more. Finally, she stood up, spoke a few final words, and returned to the table, glancing over at him as she did. He picked up the ale and went back to join her, sitting down and scooting his chair close.

“What did … ?”

“Not here,” she said quickly. She pushed his tankard at him. “Drink some of this. Look happy. You’ve just been given good news. I am your new wife, and you love me.”