Drawing Hunter Predd close, she gestured downward, indicating what they must do. Slowly, but steadily, pressing herself close to the mast to stay hidden, she found the first of the iron rungs that formed hand- and footholds, then began her descent. The climb down took an enormous amount of time and energy, more of the latter than it would have taken had she been whole. Her wounds ached, irritated by the strain of physical exertion and mental concentration alike. She looked up and saw Hunter Predd directly above her, following her down. His descent was noiseless and smooth. He was better equipped for it than she.
When she got close enough to the deck to see who was set at watch, she paused. She found a pair of guards fore and aft-by their build and carriage, Federation soldiers. There was no one in the pilot box, but a third man paced the decks, moving back and forth between the pontoons and the masts, a restless, uneasy shadow. She caught a momentary glimpse of his whipcord frame and gaunt face as he passed through a sliver of starlight, and she started in surprise. Did she know him? She thought so. She glanced upward to where Hunter Predd clung to the iron rungs and motioned for him to stay put.
Then she descended another few feet and dropped softly to the decking, sliding into the shadow of a weapons rack. The guards never even looked her way. She watched the pacer a few moments longer, waiting for him to pass close, for his back to be turned; then she straightened and walked directly toward him. She was almost on top of him before he sensed her presence and turned.
By then she had a dagger at his throat and was standing close enough to see who he was.
“Well met, Donell Brae,” she said quietly, her free hand taking a firm grip on his arm. “No loud noises, please. No sudden moves.”
His seamed, weathered face broke into an ironic grin. “I told them it was a bad idea to leave you on your own ship, captive or no.”
“Someone should have listened to you. So now you listen to me. The Jerle Shannara’s mine again, Big Red’s and mine. But we lost Hawk, and I’m looking to pay someone back for that. Is she here?”
He blinked. “The witch? She’s ashore, looking for the Druid.” The washed-out blue eyes, so familiar, gave her a considering look. “Stay away from her, Little Red. She’s poison.”
Rue Meridian gave his throat a nudge with the dagger’s tip, and he grunted. “She hasn’t discovered what real poison is yet. Who else is here? Does Aden Kett command?”
Donell Brae nodded.
“Stupid choice for both of you.”
“Not always a matter of choice, Little Red.”
“Fair enough. But you have one now. Do what I tell you, and you can stay alive.” She nudged him again with the dagger, forcing his head all the way back. “I always liked you, Donell. I wouldn’t want our friendship to end badly.”
He swallowed against the dagger tip. “What do you want?”
“Who’s aboard besides you?”
“If you don’t move that dagger away, I’ll cut my own throat trying to answer.”
She moved the blade down to his sternum. “Keep your hands at your sides. Any weapons on you?”
He lowered his head again and shook it. “Never liked them much. I’m a pilot, not a bladesman. That’s for others.”
One of the best Federation pilots she had met. They’d flown missions together over the Prekkendorran. He had come into the service with Aden Kett, a couple of young Federation soldiers when they had started out. Now he was a pilot and Kett an airship Commander. Their crew had been assigned to Flying Mourn when Rue Meridian fled west to the coast with her brother. The Federation Command must have given them Black Moclips as a reward for their service. It was a good choice. Aden Kett’s crew was the best Federation outfit in the skies.
She walked Donell Brae over to the mast, where Hunter Predd waited. The Wing Rider had come down from his mast perch to find better concealment and to watch her back. The sentries at either end of the airship took no visible notice as she marched Donell up to him.