other Druids were in residence.
She brought Wend-A-Way down carefully, the landing platform blazing to life with hastily lit torches; the Troll guard had seen herapproach and recognized her vessel. Garroneck was already waiting, standing off to one side, huge arms crossed over his chest until he raised one in a casual gesture of greeting. Very like him. Never any show of impatience or excitement, everything measured and steady. In all the time she had known him—which covered the entire period of her Druid tenure—she had never seen him make a rash or foolish decision or lose his temper with anyone who did.
She lowered the skimmer anchor, which Garroneck came forward to secure, dropped the rope ladder over the side, shouldered her backpack, and climbed down to greet him.
“It’s been a long time, Aphenglow,” he rumbled, his great hands swallowing hers. “Are you well?”
“Well enough,” she answered. “How are things here?”
“Steady sailing, favorable winds. We do what’s needed and then some. The Ard Rhys still sleeps. Is that about to change?”
Perceptive, as always. “Perhaps. I’ll need to speak with the others first. Who’s missing?”
A short growl that might have been laughter. “Who else but that impetuous Borderman. He comes and goes like the weather, never entirely predictable. I think he’s gone to Arishaig to test the political winds.”
Bombax. He would. “Has something happened?” She started for the doorway, taking Garroneck’s arm to keep him close.
The big shoulders dropped slightly and his head inclined until it was close. She was tall enough that it didn’t take much. “Rumor has it the Federation is getting a new Prime Minister.”
“Nothing unusual about that. They have a new Prime Minister almost weekly.”
“Very unstable government. You would think with so much territory to govern and so much responsibility to bear it would be otherwise. But that’s not the way they do things in the city-states.”
They passed into the tower and started down the stairs, still keeping side by side.
“So what does this matter to us?” she asked.
“We might be at risk.”
“That’s old news. We are already at risk.”
“We might be at greater risk.” He shrugged. “Let the others explain. They are better able than a simple Captain of the Druid Guard.”
She smiled in spite of herself. They both knew he was astute enough to appreciate the political situation in any corner of the Four Lands. But he was also deferential toward the members of the Druid order and would never have presumed to tell them what to think.
Garroneck left her at the door to her chambers and walked off to advise the others that she had returned. But she hadn’t gotten much farther than throwing her backpack on the bed and washing her face and hands when Seersha appeared in the door.
“The despised and disinherited Elven girl returns,” she greeted, a welcoming smile spreading over her broad features. “Are you forgiven yet for your poor choice in occupation and friends?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. I remain a pariah.” She reached out and hugged the other woman, kissed her cheeks, and backed her off for a closer look. “What’s this? You look tired.”
Seersha shrugged. “Working late on elementals. There’s magic waiting to be unlocked if I could just decipher the language.”
She was a big woman, wide rather than tall and solid in the way of Dwarves, but average in height and weight. Her hair was cut short against her head, and her neck and arms were tattooed with Dwarf symbols. She wore traditional black robes, but they were striped with crimson and gold about the shoulders and down the back. One eye was gone, the result of a childhood accident, and she wore a patch over the socket that adhered to the skin and bone without need for a cord. Seersha was not like anyone Aphenglow had ever known, and it was those differences that drew the Elven woman to her.
“Are you here because
She brought Wend-A-Way down carefully, the landing platform blazing to life with hastily lit torches; the Troll guard had seen herapproach and recognized her vessel. Garroneck was already waiting, standing off to one side, huge arms crossed over his chest until he raised one in a casual gesture of greeting. Very like him. Never any show of impatience or excitement, everything measured and steady. In all the time she had known him—which covered the entire period of her Druid tenure—she had never seen him make a rash or foolish decision or lose his temper with anyone who did.
She lowered the skimmer anchor, which Garroneck came forward to secure, dropped the rope ladder over the side, shouldered her backpack, and climbed down to greet him.
“It’s been a long time, Aphenglow,” he rumbled, his great hands swallowing hers. “Are you well?”
“Well enough,” she answered. “How are things here?”
“Steady sailing, favorable winds. We do what’s needed and then some. The Ard Rhys still sleeps. Is that about to change?”
Perceptive, as always. “Perhaps. I’ll need to speak with the others first. Who’s missing?”
A short growl that might have been laughter. “Who else but that impetuous Borderman. He comes and goes like the weather, never entirely predictable. I think he’s gone to Arishaig to test the political winds.”
Bombax. He would. “Has something happened?” She started for the doorway, taking Garroneck’s arm to keep him close.
The big shoulders dropped slightly and his head inclined until it was close. She was tall enough that it didn’t take much. “Rumor has it the Federation is getting a new Prime Minister.”
“Nothing unusual about that. They have a new Prime Minister almost weekly.”
“Very unstable government. You would think with so much territory to govern and so much responsibility to bear it would be otherwise. But that’s not the way they do things in the city-states.”
They passed into the tower and started down the stairs, still keeping side by side.
“So what does this matter to us?” she asked.
“We might be at risk.”
“That’s old news. We are already at risk.”
“We might be at greater risk.” He shrugged. “Let the others explain. They are better able than a simple Captain of the Druid Guard.”
She smiled in spite of herself. They both knew he was astute enough to appreciate the political situation in any corner of the Four Lands. But he was also deferential toward the members of the Druid order and would never have presumed to tell them what to think.
Garroneck left her at the door to her chambers and walked off to advise the others that she had returned. But she hadn’t gotten much farther than throwing her backpack on the bed and washing her face and hands when Seersha appeared in the door.
“The despised and disinherited Elven girl returns,” she greeted, a welcoming smile spreading over her broad features. “Are you forgiven yet for your poor choice in occupation and friends?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. I remain a pariah.” She reached out and hugged the other woman, kissed her cheeks, and backed her off for a closer look. “What’s this? You look tired.”
Seersha shrugged. “Working late on elementals. There’s magic waiting to be unlocked if I could just decipher the language.”
She was a big woman, wide rather than tall and solid in the way of Dwarves, but average in height and weight. Her hair was cut short against her head, and her neck and arms were tattooed with Dwarf symbols. She wore traditional black robes, but they were striped with crimson and gold about the shoulders and down the back. One eye was gone, the result of a childhood accident, and she wore a patch over the socket that adhered to the skin and bone without need for a cord. Seersha was not like anyone Aphenglow had ever known, and it was those differences that drew the Elven woman to her.
“Are you here because
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