Anyone but herself, she amended—someone who had lived long enough to know better, who had experienced the rebel Shadea a’Ru’s attempt to gain control of the order and survived the struggle it had taken to prevent that from happening.

So long ago now. So far in the past.

She watched the last vestiges of the fortress fade into the distance and experienced a strange feeling of regret at leaving, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“She will be fine, Mistress,” Garroneck said at her elbow. “She is a strong young woman.”

Khyber gave him a smile. “I know that. I just wish we could have found a way to include her.”

The big Troll shrugged. “Perhaps she wasn’t meant to be included. There might be something else that requires her talents.”

“A nice thought.” She nodded slowly. “I hope you are right. Mostly, I hope she will be able to do what is needed at Paranor in our absence. Leaving her with only her younger sister, her Elven protector, and a handful of your Trolls worries me. I hope Bombax comes back soon.”

“You know he will. He always does. And don’t underrate the capabilities of my Trolls, Mistress. They are more than a match for anything that might threaten Aphenglow or the Keep.”

She nodded absently, redirecting her attention to the forward decks on the big warship. “What do you think of those three?”

She was referring to the two men and one woman that her Druids had brought back with them from their forays into different parts of the Four Lands in compliance with the urgings of the Shade of Allanon.

“An odd bunch,” Garroneck declared.

An apt description, she thought. Each very different from the others, all very different from the Druids.

Skint was a Gnome Tracker recruited by Carrick—small, dark-faced, and decidedly uncommunicative. The Druid had found him in a small village at the foot of the Wolfsktaag Mountains in the Anar. He had known Skint from his childhood in the Eastland, where Carrick’s father had managed a mining business. His father had used Skint as a hunter and trapper to feed his workers and protect his operation, which was a long way from anything approximating civilization. Skint’s value, Carrick had explained to Khyber, was that he was exceedingly adept at finding his way through places he had never seen before, at reading signs, and at ferreting out dangers. As a boy, he had spent time with Skint—though his father had never found out about it—so he had witnessed firsthand how clever the Gnome could be. Skint wasn’t a pleasant fellow, but he was very good at what he did. If you were with him and in danger, he was your best chance at finding your way to safety.