He slowed and then stopped at the entrance of an alley where three men were beating another with clubs, already pulling at his clothes, searching for his purse. The man was pleading with them not to kill him. There was blood on his face and hands. One of his attackers looked over at Hunter Predd, feral eyes bright and hard, assessing his potential as an adversary. The Wing Rider did as he had been instructed. He held the other’s gaze for a moment to demonstrate he was not afraid, then turned aside and walked on.
Grimpen Ward was not a place for the faint of heart or those seeking to redress the wrongs of the world. Neither could survive in the claustrophobic atmosphere of this breeding ground of cruelty and rage. Here, everyone was either prey to or hunter of someone else, and there was no middle ground. Hunter Predd felt the pall of hopelessness and despondency that shrouded the village, and he was sickened by it.
He moved out of the central section of the village, away from the brighter lights and louder noises, and entered a cluster of hovels and shacks occupied by those who had fallen into a twilight existence of drug-induced escape. The beings who lived here never emerged from their private, self-indulgent worlds, from the places they had created for themselves. He could smell the chemicals burning on the air as he passed through. He could smell the sweat and excrement. Everything they needed to escape life was free, once they forfeited everything they had.
He turned up a pathway that disappeared back into the trees, glanced about cautiously to be certain he had not been followed, and proceeded into the shadows. The trail wound back a short distance to a cabin set within a small grove of ash and cherry. The cabin was neat and well tended with flower boxes hung from the windows and a garden out back. It was quiet, an oasis of calm amid the tumult. A light burned in the front window. The Wing Rider walked to the door, stood quietly for a moment listening, and then knocked.
The woman who opened the door was heavy and flat-faced, her hair cropped short and graying, her body shapeless. She was of indeterminate age, as if she had passed out of childhood sometime back and would not change her look again until she was very old. She regarded Hunter Predd without interest, as if he were just another of the lost souls she encountered every day.
“I’ve got no more rooms to let. Try somewhere else.”
He shook his head. “I’m not looking for a room. I’m looking for a woman called the Addershag.”
She snorted. “You’ve come too late for that. She’s been dead these past five years. News travels slowly where you come from, I guess.”
“You know this to be so? Is she really dead?”
“As dead as yesterday. I buried her out back, six feet down, standing upright so she could greet those who tried to dig her up.” She smirked. “Want to give it a try?”
He ignored the challenge. “You were her apprentice?”
The woman laughed, her face twisting. “Not hardly. I was her servant woman and the caretaker of her house. I hadn’t the stomach for what she did. But I served her well and she rewarded me in kind. You knew her, did you?”
“Only by reputation. A powerful seer. A worker of magic. Few would dare to challenge her. None, I think, even now that she is dead and buried.”
“Only fools and desperate men.” The woman glanced out at the village lights and shook her head. “They come here still, now and then. I’ve buried a few, when they didn’t listen to me about letting her be. But I haven’t her power or abilities. I just do what I was brought here to do, looking after things, taking care. The house and what’s in it are mine now. But I keep them for her.”
She stared at him, waiting.
“Who reads the future of those in Grimpen Ward now that she is gone?” he asked.
“Pretenders and charlatans. No-talent thieves who would steal you blind and send you to your death pretending it was something else entirely. They moved in the moment she was gone, laying claim to what she was, to what she could do.” The woman spit into the earth. “They’ll all be found out and burned alive for it.”
Hunter Predd hesitated. He would have to be careful here. This woman was protective of her legacy and not inclined to help. But he needed what she could give him.
“No one could replace the Addershag,” he agreed soberly. “Unless she chose someone herself. Did she ever train an apprentice?”
For a long moment, the woman just looked at him, suspicion mirrored in her sharp eyes. She brushed roughly at her ragged hair. “Who are you?”
“An emissary,” he said truthfully. “But the man who sent me knew your mistress well and shared her passion for magic and secrets. He, too, has lived a long time.”
Her features scrunched up like crumpled paper, and she folded her heavy arms before her defensively. “Is he here?”
“Close by. He prefers not to be seen.”
She nodded. “I know of whom you speak. But name him anyway if you wish me to believe you are his man.”
The Wing Rider nodded. “He is called Walker.”
“Hah!” Her eyes were bright with glee. “Even the vaunted Druid needed her help from time to time! That was how powerful she was, how well regarded!” There was triumph and satisfaction in her voice. “She might have been one of his order, had she wanted it. But she was never inclined to be anything other than a seer.”
“Is there, then,” he pressed gently, “another he might turn to, now that she is gone?”
The silence pressed in about them as she stood studying him anew, thinking the matter over. She knew something, but was not inclined to share it. He waited patiently on her.
“One,” the woman said finally, but spoke the word as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth. “One only. But she was not suitable. She was flawed in character and made waste of her talent. My mistress gave her every chance to be strong, and each time the girl failed. Finally, she left.”
“A girl,” Hunter Predd repeated carefully.
“Very young when she was here. Still a child. But old even then. Like she was already grown inside her child’s body. Intense and secretive, which was to her credit, but passionate, as well, which was not. Very powerful in her talent. She could see the future clearly, could mark its progress and read its signs.” The woman spat once more, her voice suddenly weary. “So gifted. More than just a seer. That was her undoing.”
The Wing Rider was confused. “What do you mean?”
The woman glared and shook her head. “There’s no reason for me to talk about it. If you’re so curious to know, ask her yourself. Ryer Ord Star is her name. She lives nearby. I can give you the directions. Do you want them or not?”
Hunter Predd took the directions she had offered and thanked her for her help. In return she gave him a look that suggested both pity and disdain. He had barely turned away before she had closed the cottage door behind her.
It felt empty and silent in the woods where Walker waited outside Grimpen Ward for Hunter Predd’s return. Nothing moved in the darkness. No sound came from the gloom. He waited patiently, but reluctantly, uncomfortable with leaving the search for the Addershag to the Wing Rider. It wasn’t that he thought Hunter Predd lacking in ability; in fact, he thought the Wing Rider better able than most. But he would have preferred to handle the matter himself. Contacting her was his idea. Seeking her out was something he knew how to do. But it was clear after the attack on Spanner Frew’s safehold that the Ilse Witch was determined to disrupt his efforts to retrace the route on the castaway’s map. It might have appeared it was the Federation who attacked the Rover settlement, but the Druid was convinced it was the Ilse Witch. Her spies must have caught sight of him in March Brume, and she had tracked him north to Spanner Frew. He had been lucky to elude her on the coast—luckier still to escape with his new airship intact. His Rover allies—Redden Alt Mer, Rue Meridian, and Spanner Frew—had flown him back to March Brume under cover of darkness and early morning mist, dropped him close to where he had left Hunter Predd, and then taken the airship in search of a crew. Once that crew was assembled, they would fly north to Arborlon, present themselves to the Elves and their new ruler, and await the Druid’s arrival.