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.
Even so, he thought momentarily about seeing her. He could do so and be back in plenty of time to continue his journey. Just go to her house and wake her. Just tell her he still loved her and was sorry for not coming sooner. Just admit he had made a mistake.
But had he? He wasn’t sure that starting up with her again was what he wanted. He couldn’t quite make himself believe that it was the right thing to do. If he came back into her life, it would create expectations for both of them that had to be acted on. After so much time had passed, how would that feel?
Avelene looked away. “Just someone you used to know, huh?” she repeated.
He slouched down in his seat, stretching his legs. “You told me back in Arishaig that you sensed the Prime Minister was afraid of something. You never said what.”
She sighed and looked around the cramped room as if searching for the answer. “Didn’t you see it in him, too?”
“Not as clearly as you did, I guess.”
She smirked. “I don’t think you see much of anything as clearly as I do, Paxon.” She left this enigmatic observation hanging. “I’m guessing now, but I would say from what I know about his history as Prime Minister that he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. Remember how he was thinking of stepping down at one point? The rumor was he’d had enough. Ex–military and weapons–centric men and women had come to dominate the Coalition Council, and he was no friend to any of them. So he wanted out; he wanted to quit. But then he decided not to. Maybe because he couldn’t stomach what that might mean for the Federation. Aphenglow always said he was a good man.”
“So now he is afraid he might be at risk because of staying on as Prime Minister?” Paxon sighed. “It’s true that there is a history of termination with prejudice in that office. Maybe he feels threatened by this Usurient fellow and he brought us in to perhaps help him eliminate that threat.”
“That would be my guess.” She shook her head. “Politics makes my head hurt. Too many mind games and too much deception and trickery.”
“At least we don’t have that problem at Paranor,” Paxon said.
She looked at him. “Is that what you think?”
After that, they were silent for a long time.
Usurient made his way over the jagged terrain of the coastal cliffs, following a narrow pathway that cut through the rocks like a snake, tracking the dark shape of Mallich, who was just ahead, and the oketar, who were no longer even visible. Rain sheeted down, the storm continuing unabated. The wind was much stronger out here on the cliffs, exposed as they were to the open seas, and therefore much more dangerous. He had to keep pressing back against the cliff face or, when on higher stretches where there was no protection at all, bend low to the ground to avoid being swept off his feet. He had been relatively dry when they had set out, but by now he was soaked through.
Usurient was thinking hard about what might happen once this matter came to a head. If they found the ruins of Arbrox inhabited tonight, he was certain Mallich would want them to go in tomorrow when the weather cleared. They would take Bael Etris and The Hammer with them, and they would attack and keep attacking until Arcannen was dead. How this might happen–and who might survive it–was open to debate. But he had already determined that his own involvement would be minimal. In spite of what he had told Mallich, he had not decided to come on this expedition so that he could make certain everything went as it should or even to have the pleasure of watching Arcannen take his last breath.