TWENTYSIX
Aboard Black Moclips, the chaos was more pronounced, and a deadly confrontation was about to take place.
The Ilse Witch was sleeping when the collision between the airships occurred, and the force of it threw her from her berth onto the floor. She came to her feet swiftly, threw on her gray robes, and hastened from her locked cabin onto the main deck. By then Federation soldiers and Mwellrets were running everywhere, shouting and cursing in the gloom and mist. She strode to where most had gathered and saw the distinctive raked masts of the Jerle Shannara. One of the Mwellrets lay dead on the other ship’s decking, the first barrage of spears and arrows had been launched, and a fullscale battle was only moments away.
Of Cree Bega and Federation Commander Aden Kett, she saw no sign.
In a cold fury, she strode to the pilot box and swung up beside the helmsman. The man was staring down at the milling ship’s company with a look of mingled disbelief and incredulity, his hands frozen on the controls.
“Back her off at once, helmsman!” she ordered.
His eyes filled with fear as he saw who it was, but his hands remained motionless on the levers.
“Back away now!” she snapped, her words lashing at him with such force that his knees buckled.
He reacted instantly this time, drawing down power from the light sheaths and unhooding the diapson crystals. Black Moclips lurched backwards, unhooked from the other ship with a grinding crunch, and slid soundlessly into the gloom. The helmsman glanced over at her without speaking, waiting for further instructions.
“What happened?” she demanded, all fire and sharp edges within her hooded concealment, wrapped in the power of her voice.
“Mistress?” he replied in confusion.
“How did we manage to collide with that other ship? How
would that have happened?”
“I don’t know, Mistress,” the man stammered. “I was just following orders—“
“Whose orders? I gave no orders to proceed! My orders were to stand down!” She was beside herself with rage.
The helmsman made a vague gesture toward the front of the airship. “Commander Kett said the ret ordered him.
She was down out of the pilot box, and striding forward without waiting to hear the rest. Concealed once more by the mist, Black Moclips was an island, solitary and adrift. Her Federation crew was already at work on the damage to the bow rams and decking. At the forward railing, a handful of Mwellrets was clustered about Cree Bega, who had finally surfaced. She went up to him without slowing and stopped less than a yard away.
“Who countermanded my orders?” she demanded.
Cree Bega regarded her with a sleepy look, his lidless eyes fixing on her. She could tell what he was thinking. This girl, this child, speaks to me as if she were my better. But she is nothing to me. She is a human, and all humans are inferior. Who is she, to speak to me in this way?
“Misstress,” he greeted with a small, perfunctory bow.
“Who countermanded my orders to stand down?” she asked again.
“It wass my misstake, Misstress,” he acknowledged without a hint of remorse in his sibilant voice. “There sseemed no reasson not to prosseed, not to sstay closse to the little peopless. I wass worried they might get too far away from uss.”
She gave him a long, careful appraisal before she spoke again. She knew where this was heading, but she could not afford to back down. “Who is in command of this expedition, Cree Bega?”
“You, Misstress,” he answered coldly.
“Then why would you take it upon yourself to give orders without consulting me first? Why would you assume you had authority to rescind an order I had already given? Do you think, perhaps, you are better able than me to make the decisions that are needed on this voyage?”
He turned slowly to face her, and she could see that he was considering the advisability of a confrontation. Five of his fellows stood directly behind him, and she was alone. Separately, none of them was her equal. Together, they might be. He hated her and wanted her dead. He undoubtedly felt he could accomplish what was needed without her. If she were to disappear on this voyage, the Morgawr would never know what had happened to her.