Standing on the foredeck of Swift Sure as Rue set the big airship down on Druid soil, he found himself wondering if he would ever see Grianne again. His concerns had all been for Pen, but it was Grianne who had disappeared first and been gone longest. Because she had a history of such disappearances and because she had always returned from them, he had given little thought to what the most recent one might mean. But it was possible, even for an Ard Rhys, to venture too far into unfriendly territory and not be able to find a way out again. It was possible, even for Grianne, not to return.

He turned his attention to dropping the anchor lines then, as the airship touched the ground, climbing down the rope ladder to secure them. The air within the Druid walls felt hot and still. He smelled the dust and the dryness; he could breathe them in. Already, he was wishing he were somewhere else. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he waited for Rue and Traunt Rowan to descend. It was pointless to dwell on his discomfort. He was here, and here he would remain until he found what he had come looking for.

With Rue beside him, he followed the Druid toward a pair of massive double-entry doors at one end of the court. But before they reached them, the doors opened and a small group of black-cloaked figures emerged into the fading light. As they moved into the courtyard, their long shadows played against the earth like wraiths, faceless and bodiless within their coverings. A chill went up Bek’s spine, a warning to be careful. He had formidable magic at his command, but his skills and experience were not the equal of these.

As the contingent approached them, Traunt Rowan turned back to Bek and Rue. “Your arrival is much anticipated,” he said with a deferential nod.

There were three of them, two leading the third, one of the two a broad-shouldered woman of some size and obvious strength. She pulled back her hood as she reached him, and he knew instinctively from the strong features and military bearing that she was the leader. “Bek Ohmsford,” she said, extending her hand. “I am Shadea a’Ru, Ard Rhys in your sister’s absence.”

She shook his hand quickly, took Rue’s in turn, then nodded to her companions. “My First of Order, Gerand Cera, and my assistant, Pyson Wence.”

Bek nodded to them in turn, the first tall, thin, and sharp-featured, the second physically unintimidating, but with eyes that reminded him of a hunting bird’s. Deferring to the woman, neither spoke on being introduced.

“What have you learned of our son?” Rue asked at once. “Have you found him?”

“We haven’t.” Shadea met her gaze without flinching, something a lot of men couldn’t do. “We continue to search, of course, for both your son and the Ard Rhys, but we have run out of places to look. If you come with me, I will explain.”