She gave it a moment, then reached up with one finger and touched her temple. “Think about what you just said, Hunter Predd,” she advised softly. “When was the last time my brother told me what to do, would you guess?”
He smiled in rueful understanding. “Well, he won’t like it, anyway.”
She smiled back. “It won’t be the first time he’s had to deal with this sort of disappointment. Nor the last, I’d wager.”
“You and me?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.
“You and me.”
“I won’t ask if you’re up to it.”
“Best not.”
“I won’t ask what you intend once we get there either, even though I’d be willing to bet it goes beyond a quick flyover.”
She nodded without answering.
He sighed deeply. “It will feel good to be back in the air, good to be doing what we were trained to do, Obsidian and me.” He rubbed his callused hands together. “We’ll leave Po Kelles and Niciannon to run whatever errands your brother and the others need until they catch up to us. Maybe our leaving will inspire them to work faster on the repairs.”
“Maybe. My brother hates to miss out on anything. Going inland for a look around was his idea in the first place.”
“And now you’ve stolen it.” He shook his head, smiled ruefully. “How soon can you be ready?”
She rose gingerly and unwrapped herself from the blanket. Underneath, throwing knives were strapped in place about her waist.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “How soon can you saddle your bird?”
EIGHTEEN
They flew west off the coast and inland aboard Obsidian, settled comfortably upon the riding harness strapped to the Roc’s feathered back, Hunter Predd at the reins and Rue Meridian seated just behind him. The Rover wore her flying leathers, black like her brother’s and molded to her body from constant use. Beneath, her wounds were carefully bound and padded, and the leathers served as light armor to protect them from the rougher abuses she might suffer on her journey. For weapons, she bore a brace of throwing knives about her waist, another tucked into her boot, a long knife strapped to her good thigh, and bow and arrows slung across her back. A great cloak and hood wrapped her against the cold and wind, but even so she found herself ducking her chin and hunching her shoulders to stay warm.
That her brother was angry at her decision to make this journey was the understatement of the year. He was so furious, so stunned by what he considered her obvious stupidity and immeasurably poor judgment, that he ended up shouting at her loud enough to bring work on the airship to a halt until he was finished. No one else said a word, not even Spanner Frew. No one else wanted any part of the argument. Big Red was speaking for them all-loudly enough for all of their voices combined, come to that- and there was nothing further to be said or done. She listened patiently for a few minutes, then began shouting back at him, and eventually threw up her hands and limped away, screaming back one final time to suggest that if he was so worried about her, maybe he’d better hurry along his repair efforts and follow.
It wasn’t fair to chide him so, but she was beyond caring about what was fair and reasonable. What she cared about-the only thing she cared about by then-was that sixteen men and women were trapped inland in strange and dangerous territory with no realistic hope of finding their way out and a madwoman and her reptilian servants hunting for them. She had no idea what might have happened to them, but she didn’t like to think about the possibilities. She wanted reassurance that her worst fears had not been realized. She wanted evidence of their safety. Time was an enemy, swift and elusive. There was risk in what she was doing, but it was a risk worth taking when measured against the consequences of further inaction. Hunter Predd said nothing during the argument or afterwards, but she knew he agreed with her decision. Wing Riders were made cautious by training and from experience, but they knew when it was time to act.