Ilse Witch

“Which brings up an interesting point.” The Druid gave them both a considering look. “Why do you want to come with me on this voyage? Why choose to involve yourselves in this venture when there are other, less dangerous expeditions?”


Redden Alt Mer laughed. “A good question. A question that requires several answers. Let me see if I can provide them for you. First, there is the money. You offer more than we can make from anyone else. A great deal more. We’re mercenaries, so we pay close attention when the purse offered is substantial. Second, there are the unfortunate circumstances surrounding our recent leave-taking from the Federation. It wasn’t altogether voluntary, and our former employers could decide to come looking for us to settle accounts. It might be best if we were somewhere else if that happens. A long voyage out of the Four Lands would provide them with sufficient time to lose interest.

“And third,” he said, smiling like a small boy with a piece of candy, “there is the challenge of making a voyage to a new land, of going somewhere no one else has gone before, of seeing something for the first time, of finding a new world.” He sighed and gestured expansively. “You shouldn’t underestimate what that means to us. It’s difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t fly or sail or explore like we do, like we’ve done all our lives. It is who we are and what we do, and sometimes that counts for more than anything.”

“Especially after our experience with the1 Federation, where we hired out just for the money,” his sister growled softly. “It’s time for something else, something more fulfilling, even if it is dangerous.”

“Don’t be so quick to demystify our thinking, Little Red!” her brother reproved her sharply. He cocked a finger at the Druid. “Enough about the reasons for our choices. Let me tell you something about yours, about why you chose to involve yourself with us. I don’t mean Little Red and myself, personally—though we’re the ones you want. I mean the Rovers. You are here, my friend, because you’re a Druid and we’re Rovers, and we have much in common. We are outsiders and always have been. We are outcasts of the lands, just barely tolerated and suspiciously viewed. We are comfortable with wanderlust and the wider view of the world, and we do not see things in terms of nationalities and governments. We are people who value friendship and loyalty, who prize strength of heart and mind as well as of body, but who value good judgment even more. You can be the bravest soul who ever walked the earth and be worthless if you do not know when and where to choose your battles. How am I doing?”

“A little long-winded,” Walker offered.

The tall Rover laughed gleefully. “A sense of humor in a Druid! Who would have thought it possible? Well, you catch my drift, so I needn’t go on. We are made for each other—and for quests that most would never dream of even considering. You want us, Walker, because we will stand against anything. We will go right into death’s maw and give a yank of his tongue. We will do it because that is what life is for, if you are a Rover. Now tell me—am I wrong?”

Walker shook his head, as much in dismay as in agreement.

“He actually believes all this,” his sister declared ruefully. “I worry that it might prove contagious and that one day soon we will both become infected and then neither one of us will be able to think straight.”

“Now, now, Little Red. You’re supposed to stand up for me, not knock me down!” Alt Mer sighed and stared at Walker with his cheerful gaze. “There is also, of course, the inescapable fact that almost no one else of talent and nerve would give you the time of day in this business. Rovers are the only ones bold enough to accept your offer while still respecting your need for secrecy.” He grinned. “So, what’s it to be?”

Walker pulled his black robes more closely about him, and the mist that had filtered into their dark alleyway stirred in response. “Let’s sleep on it. Tomorrow we can have a talk with your shipbuilder and see if he backs you up. I’ll want to see his work and judge the man himself before I commit to anything.”

“Excellent!” the big Rover exclaimed joyfully. “A fair response!” He paused, a shadow of regret crossing his broad face. “Except for one thing. Sleep is out of the question. If you’re interested in our services, we’ll have to leave here tonight.”

“Leave?” Walker didn’t bother to hide his surprise.

“Tonight.”

“And go where?”

“Why, wherever I say,” the Rover answered, feeding Walker’s words back to him. He grinned at his sister. “I’m afraid he thinks me none too bright after all.” He turned back to Walker. “If the shipbuilder you wanted could be found in March Brume, you wouldn’t need us to locate him for you, would you? Nor would he be of much use if he conducted his business openly.”

Walker nodded.1 “I suppose not.”