He shook his head at her. "I sometimes think you don't have the sense of a gnat. Indestructible, are you? Half-dead one minute and whole the next? Off to the rescue of those unfortunates who need you so badly? Shades! It's a wonder you've lived this long. Well, we'll talk about it."
He rose. "Enough of words for now, though. I'm off to bed and a few more hours of rest before daylight and work. Maybe you should try getting a few hours' sleep yourself. Put the past behind you and the future ahead where they belong and spend your time in the present with the rest of us." He waved dismissively as he turned away. "Sleep well, Little Red."
He went out without looking back, closing the door softly behind him. She stared after him for a long time, thinking that for all his faults, there wasn't anyone better than her brother. Whatever lay ahead, she would rather face it with him at her side than anyone else. Redden Alt Mer had the luck, they said. They were right, but he had something more than that. He had the heart. He would always find a way because he couldn't conceive of it being any other way. It was the Rover in him. It defined who he was.
She spent another few moments thinking about those trapped inland, about Walker and the rest, still worried how they would fare without the Rovers to turn to. Big Red could say what he wanted, but she didn't like the idea of abandoning them even for the time it would take to reach the coast and find the Wing Riders.
They were a tough and experienced group except for Bek and the seer and one or two others who were more talented than experienced, but even the Elven Hunters were too much at risk when afoot and cut off from the airship. Especially with the Ilse Witch and her Mwellrets hunting them.
She thought of Hawk then, one final time. Someone will pay for what happened to you, she promised him silently. One day soon, that account will be settled.
She was crying again, almost before she realized it.
"Good-bye, Hawk," she whispered into the darkness.
Then she was asleep.
SIX
When Panax gripped his shoulder in warning, Quentin Leah dropped into a crouch and froze in place, eyes searching the gloom ahead. He felt the Dwarf's harsh breathing in his ear.
"Over there." The words were a soft hiss in the silence. "By the edge of that building, in the rubble."
Quentin's hand tightened on the Sword of Leah, then just as quickly loosened. No, don't summon the magic! You'll only draw their attention if you do! His heart began to race. Around him, everything went still, not a sound, not a movement, as if the city and its deadly inhabitants were waiting with him. Dirt, sweat, and blood streaked his face and clothing, and his body ached with fatigue. He was cut and bruised almost everywhere, and the slashes on his left side cut all the way through to his ribs. Off to one side, crouched in a screen of brush that had grown up through broken slabs of stone, Kian and Wye watched with him, waiting for his signal. He was their leader now. He was their last, best hope. Without him, they would all be dead. Dead, like so many of the others.
Quentin scanned the place in which Panax had spotted movement, but saw nothing. It didn't matter; he stayed where he was and kept searching. If the Dwarf said something was there, then it was. They hadn't gotten that far by doubting each other, and getting that far was nothing short of a miracle.
Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to go, not from the moment they had entered that square with its smooth metal floor and irregular sections of wall. An odd formation to begin with, unlike anything the Highlander had ever seen, it whispered of trouble. But Quentin had taken up his position on the left wing of the search party, along with Panax and the Elven Hunters Kian, Wye, and Rusten, and watched as an unaccompanied Walker made his way cautiously ahead. Across the way, barely visible, Ard Patrinell crouched with Ahren Elessedil, the Healer Joad Rish, and three more Elven Hunters. He could just make out their figures, little more than shadows clinging to the protective walls of the outlying buildings. Between them, and well behind the Druid, Bek and the seer Ryer Ord Star waited with three more Elven Hunters. Like a tableau, they were etched in the fading light, motionless statues sealed in place by time and fate.