“Like you did. Like everyone does when they see her for the first time. She’s the Walker Boh. A warship disguised as something less threatening, but clearly the better craft no matter what she goes up against. The Ard Rhys says she reminds her of the stories of the Druid she’s named for. Can’t say if she’s right or not about that. Building her was my last big effort as a shipwright—the last where I had a hand in everything. After she was done, I let others take the lead and just offered advice when it was needed. I’d done my part. I just wanted to teach.”

“Just to teach, huh?” Redden repeated sarcastically. “Good thing there’s something you can still do.”

Farshaun smiled. “Can do it better than you, too.”

They watched the black hull of the Walker Boh settle earthward and disappear from view. They hurried a bit now, wanting to see who was on board.

When they finally crested the last of the hills in the chain separating them from the airfield, they saw that the Walker Boh had anchored perhaps a dozen feet off the ground, mooring ropes attached to rings screwed into posts that had been buried deep in the earth. A handful of Trolls were bringing down the last of the light sheaths and detaching the radian draws while rope ladders were being lowered over the gunwales. Black-clad Druids were climbing down along with an assortment of others while a clutch of airfield workers gathered around to watch.

Already on the ground and looking around was a striking-looking older woman with Elven features and long, gray-streaked dark hair. She wore the familiar black robes, but unlike the others she bore a silver patch sewn into the left front panel.

When she saw them approaching, her gaze steadied and she started toward them.

“Well, well,” Farshaun said softly. “The Ard Rhys herself.” He raised his hand in greeting. “Something’s afoot.”

With his three young charges in tow, he walked down the hillside to find out what it was.

“Well met, Farshaun Req,” she greeted the old man, extending her hand as she came up to him. She was not as tall or physically imposing as she had seemed from a distance, but she exuded an inner strength and determination that was arresting. She carried herself as if she knew there wasn’t anything she couldn’t manage, and he wasn’t sure at all that it wasn’t so.

“Mistress,” he replied as he took her hand in his own and bowed in deference. It was an odd gesture, one he knew neither the twins nor Mirai had ever seen him make before because it was reserved only for her.

“Are you well?” she asked him, looking into his eyes as if to discern the answer for herself.