Mallich was irritated at the questioning and with the other’s self-satisfied attitude, so smug he could barely contain himself. “Why don’t you just tell me? That way I won’t have to wait a moment longer to appreciate how clever you are.”
The shadow of a smile twisted Usurient’s thin lips. “This airship is built to fly in heavy weather, and this weather is perfect for concealment. Our approach is all that matters. We’ll fly past Arbrox and out over the sea. We won’t land where he will expect us. And make no mistake—he will be expecting us. His wards are of no use if we don’t cross through them. We will land on a promontory I am familiar with farther north of Arbrox and then follow the coastline, skirting his wards. That way, none will be broken; no warning will be given. Your animals can sniff to their hearts’ content from the coast side of the ruins and tell you all you need to know, and he won’t suspect a thing.”
Mallich thought it over for a few moments and found no flaws in the other’s reasoning. He gave a curt nod and went back to working the controls.
They had flown another few miles at slow speed through the storm when Usurient had him change course, pointing the bow farther north from their current course to bring them to the promontory he was seeking for their landing. Flying almost blind, Mallich wondered how the other could be so certain of where they were. But rather than argue the matter, he decided to wait and see. The airship edged ahead, plowing the deep haze and sheets of rain, navigating the darkness. The wind had picked up and was blowing harder, and instead of clearing the air it was causing the mist and rain to swirl in sudden gusts that obscured things even further.
But finally they broke free and found themselves moving out over the Tiderace, and immediately Usurient had Mallich swing the airship back toward land, peering intently ahead, sighting whatever landmarks he could see that were apparently hidden from the hunter. He must have found them because within minutes he had them descending onto a plateau within a cluster of jagged rocks and scrub, settling carefully in place so that the ship could be anchored by The Hammer, who had at last deigned to do something.
When the airship was made fast, Mallich turned to Usurient, the other two still out of hearing while he spoke. “I will take the oketar now and find the sorcerer’s lair. You can come with me or stay here with them. It makes no difference to me.”
Usurient gave a quick glance at the giant, where he was still tightening the anchor ropes, and at Bael Etris, who slouched against the railing, watching. “You trust them here alone?” he asked.
Mallich snorted, his weathered face wrinkling. “I don’t trust them anywhere. But the crince will be watching them.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
Much farther west, a disgusted Paxon and Avelene stood hunched against the advancing rain on the public airfield in the city of Wayford staring at their grounded clipper.
“What’s happened is the contacts between the parse tubes and the draws have frayed sufficiently that the power directed by the light sheaths into the draws is not reaching the diapson crystals. This happens over time, which is why the draws are usually changed out after, oh, maybe ten thousand flying miles or so. The exchange of energy just wears them down in the natural course of usage. Unless, of course, they are weakened deliberately. From no small amount of experience, I would have to say, after looking at yours, that they were tampered with.”
Grehling Cara paused, his explanation complete, and waited for a response. Paxon was struggling with the fact that the tall, limber young man standing before him was the same boy he had encountered while in pursuit of Arcannen five years earlier. Not yet fully grown, but well beyond his boyhood, he looked like someone else entirely.
“You’re sure about this?” Avelene pressed, tight-lipped.
The young man nodded. “Just on the left rear tube, though. The others seem fine. But if you lose that one, your ship doesn’t fly right and your power drops by thirty percent, which creates drag and swerve due to loss of power and uneven response from the thrusters.”
“But you can repair this, can’t you?”
Grehling nodded. “By morning.”
“No sooner?”
He shook his head. “Replacing contacts is a delicate operation. Everything has to be set precisely and tested to be sure the transfer is solid. Otherwise, it’s like you never did anything in the first place.” He paused. “I can get to work on it right away, once I haul her into the hangar.”
Avelene sighed. “Go ahead.”
“Good to see you again, Grehling,” Paxon added, giving the other a smile. “Even under these circumstances.”
The young man smiled back. “I thought I would see you before now, Paxon. I thought you would come back to visit Leofur, if not me.”
“She still lives here, then?”
Grehling shrugged. “Right where you left her.”
He turned away and directed the men standing in the background to help him float the moored bulk of the clipper inside the waiting hangar so he could begin work. It was odd to see him in charge of the airfield now, succeeding his father as manager, still as bright and quick as ever, and still as knowledgeable. Paxon knew airships because he flew them, and he had known what the problem was from the moment she shuddered and began to lose power ten miles out. It was nice to see that Grehling had picked up on it immediately, having become every bit as skilled in the art of airship repair as he had demonstrated he would be five years earlier.
“I don’t understand,” Avelene said, taking hold of Paxon’s arm and guiding him toward the manager’s office so they could be out of the rain. “How could anyone sabotage our airship? It was under guard at Arishaig the entire time we were there. We were ambassadors, not some casual visitors. No one would have been allowed close to that ship.”
“A better question might be why,” Paxon added, settling into one of the hard-backed chairs where they would wait out their time on the ground. They could have chosen to find an inn, but it seemed too much trouble for the few hours that remained until morning, when the clipper supposedly would be fixed.
Avelene shook her head. “One explains the other, I imagine. Maybe the damage was done in Paranor before we even set out. It wouldn’t be the first time we harbored an enemy in our midst. Especially if it’s one working for Arcannen.”
Paxon nodded, but he didn’t think this was the case. It would be too much of a coincidence to have that happen again so soon. Besides, Arcannen’s network of allies and conspirators had been broken when he had fled Wayford for parts unknown. He had been in hiding for five years, several of those spent in the wilds of the Tiderace’s coastal regions. It didn’t feel right.
“We’re missing something,” he offered quietly. He paused. “Maybe someone else has a stake in this game, someone we’re overlooking.”
She gave him a look, pulling back the hood of her travel cloak to reveal her dark hair damp against her face. Looking off into the darkness, he missed the shift of expression on her face. “Who’s Leofur?”
He shrugged quickly. “Just someone I used to know.”
She kept looking at him, and he kept his gaze averted. Mention of her brought a wave of fresh guilt, especially coming from Grehling, who had been friends with both of them. Leofur, with whom he had once thought he was in love. Had been in love, he admitted. It seemed impossible. He could hardly explain it, considering it in objective terms, realizing how little it had taken to change the direction of his life. Had he gone to her in the beginning, as he had promised he would, everything might have been different. But he hadn’t wanted it that way. He had wanted to be the High Druid’s Blade. He had wanted his life at Paranor more than he had wanted her, so there was no room now for regrets.