Walker nodded.
The other bowed slightly. “I’m Redden Alt Mer. Cicatrix tells me you have plans for a journey and need help with the preparations.”
Walker frowned. “You don’t have the look of a shipbuilder.”
Redden Alt Mer grinned broadly. “That’s probably because I’m not one. But I know where to find the man you need. I know how to put you aboard the fastest, most agile ship ever built, enlist the best crew who ever sailed the open sky, and then fly you to wherever you want to go—because I’ll be your Captain.” He paused, cocking his head. “All for a price, of course.”
Walker studied him. The man was cocky and brash, but with a dangerous edge to him, as well. “How do I know you can manage all this, Redden Alt Mer? How do I know you’re the man I need?”
The Rover managed a look of complete astonishment. “Cicatrix sent me to you; if you trusted him enough to find me in the first place, that should be enough.”
“Cicatrix has been known to make mistakes.”
“Only if you cheated him of his fee, and he wants to teach you a lesson. You didn’t, did you?” The Rover sighed. “Very well. Here are my credentials, since I see that my name means nothing to you. I was born to ships and have sailed them since I was a boy. I have been a Captain for most of my life. I have sailed the entire Westland coast and explored most of the known islands off the Blue Divide. I have spent the last three years flying airships for the Federation. More to the point, I have never, ever, been knocked out of the skies.”
“And should I trust you enough to believe you speak the truth?” Walker moved a step closer. “Even though you place an assailant at my back with a drawn dagger, waiting to strike me down should you feel I do not?”
Alt Mer nodded slowly, the grin still in place. “Very good. I know something of Druids and their powers. You are the last of your kind and not well respected in the Four Lands, so I felt it wise to test you. A real Druid, I am told, would sense an assailant’s presence. A real Druid would know if he was threatened.” He shrugged. “I was simply being cautious. I meant you no offense.”
Walker’s dark face did not change expression. “I take none. This is to be a long and dangerous journey, should we agree that you are the right man to make it, Redden Alt Mer. I understand that you don’t want to attempt it in the company of a fool or a liar.” He paused. “Of course, neither do I.”
The Rover laughed softly. “Little Red!” he called.
A tall, auburntressed woman emerged from the misty dark be hind Walker, eyes sweeping the shadows, suggesting she was even less trusting of him than her companion was. When she nodded to Alt Mer, and he back to her, agreeing between them that all was well, the resemblance was unmistakable.
“My sister, Rue Meridian,” Alt Mer said. “She’ll be my navigator when we sail. She’ll also watch my back, just as she did here.”
Rue Meridian extended her hand in greeting, and Walker took it. Her grip was strong and her eyes steady as they met his own. “Welcome to March Brume,” she said.
“Let’s move out of the light while we conduct our business,” Alt Mer suggested cheerfully.
He led his sister and Walker away from the streetlamp’s hazy light and into a darkened alleyway that ran between the buildings. On the road behind them, a small boy darted past, chasing after a metal hoop he rolled ahead of him with a stick.
“Now then, to business,” Redden Alt Mer said, rubbing his hands with enthusiasm. “Where is this journey to take us?”
Walker shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. Not until we’re safely away.”
The Rover seemed taken aback. “Can’t tell me? You want me to sign on for a voyage that has no destination? Do we go west, east, north, south, up or down—?”
“We go where I say.”