But that knife cut both ways, of course.
“Sshe sspeakss to uss like children!” the Mwellret to Cree Bega’s right snarled, hunching down like a snake.
The Ilse Witch did not hesitate. She stepped to one side, just out of reach of the others, and used her magic on the speaker. Her voice lashed at him with a sound that was bonechilling and ferocious. Every ounce of power she could muster, she brought to bear. The force of her attack lifted the shocked Mwellret off its feet, twisted it into a shattered and broken mess, so ravaged it was virtually unidentifiable, and dropped the remains over the side. It took only seconds. The Mwellret was gone almost before his fellows understood what had happened.
She faced the remaining Mwellrets calmly. She had needed to make an example of someone to keep the others under control. Better an unknown than Cree Bega, whose leadership was established and effective. Better to keep the enemy she knew than to install one she did not. Changes in command necessitated adjustments that could give rise to new problems. This was enough for now. She looked into his eyes and found what she was looking for. His hatred of her was still apparent, but there was a hint of fear and doubt present, as well. He was no longer seeing her as a slender, vulnerable girl. More to the point, he was no longer measuring her for a coffin.
“Misstress,” he hissed, bowing in submission.
“Do not challenge me again, Cree Bega,” she warned. “Do not presume to question or alter my orders in any way. Obey me, ret, or I’ll find someone who will.”
She held his gaze a moment longer, then wheeled away. She did not look back at him, did not act as if she feared him. Let him think she saw herself as invulnerable and he might come to believe she was. Let him see she gave no thought to her safety because there was no need and he would think twice before confronting her again.
As she moved back toward her cabin, her senses searching carefully for any further signs of trouble, she caught a hint of something that was out of place. She stopped at once, motionless within her gray robes. By now, she knew everything that belonged on Black Moclips, every member of her company, every stash of supplies and weapons, every timber and metal plate that held her together. She had infused herself with the feel of the airship, so that she was at one with it and always in control, and she could sense if anything changed. She sensed it now, a subtle alteration, so small she’d almost missed it. Carefully, she began to probe for something more. There had been movement and presence, a suggestion of a living creature that didn’t belong.
She was still searching when Aden Kett appeared in front of her.
“Mistress, we are fully operational and ready to sail on your orders. For now, we are standing down to wait out the fog. Is there anything else?”
His face was pale and drawn; he had witnessed the death of the Mwellret. But he was a ship’s Captain and committed enough to being one that he would carry out his duties regardless of his personal feelings. She was angry at the interruption, but knew enough to keep it to herself.
“Thank you, Commander,” she acknowledged, and he bowed and moved away.
The distraction had cost her the fragile connection she had made with the unfamiliar presence. She glanced around casually, using the time to probe anew. There was nothing there now. Perhaps a passing seabird had caused her to sense a change. Maybe there was a residual Elven presence from their contact with the Jerle Shannara.
She grimaced at the thought of the collision. An entire ocean of air to navigate, and they had somehow managed to find their enemy. It was ironic and maddening. Still, it changed nothing. Walker would already know that she tracked him. Their encounter tonight, while unfortunate, gave away nothing of importance. He would try harder to escape her now that he realized she was close, but he would not be able to do so. Wherever he went, she would be waiting. She had made certain of that.