Still, it would have been nice to have help. As soon as it was light enough, she planned to send Hunter off on Obsidian in search of Walker, Bek, and the others. In a freewheeling search, he would have a better chance than she would of spotting something. If he was successful, she could bring Black Moclips close enough to pick them up. The risk to the airship was minimal. In daylight, from the safety of the skies, she would be able to see for miles. It was not likely that anything would be able to get close enough to threaten, especially now that she had control of the Ilse Witch’s vessel.
Of course, she could not discount the possibility that the witch had other weapons at her disposal, ones that could affect even an airship in flight. The witch was down there somewhere in the ruins, hunting Walker, and they might be unlucky enough to encounter her in their search. Rue Meridian had to hope that Obsidian would spy out any sign of the witch before they got close enough for her to do them any damage. She also had to hope that they would find Bek or Walker or any of the others who still lived before the witch did.
She yawned and flexed her gloved fingers where they gripped the flying levers. She had been awake for twenty-four hours, and she was beginning to feel the strain. Her wounds, even padded and sealed within her flying leathers, were throbbing painfully, and her eyes were heavy with the need for sleep. But there was no one to relieve her at the controls, so there was no point in dwelling on her deprivations. Maybe she would get lucky and find Bek at first light. Bek could fly Black Moclips. Big Red had taught him well enough. With Bek at the controls, she could get some sleep.
Her thoughts settled momentarily on the boy. No, he was not a boy, she corrected herself quickly. Bek wasn’t a boy—not in any way that mattered. He was young in years, but old already in life experience. Certainly he was more mature than those Federation fools she had been forced to suffer on the Prekkendorran. He was smart and funny, and he exuded genuine confidence. She thought back to their conversations on the flight out from the Four Lands, remembering how they had joked and laughed, how they had shared stories and confidences. Hawk and her brother both had been surprised. They didn’t understand the attraction. But her friendship with Bek was different from the ones she was accustomed to, it was grounded in their similar personalities. Bek was like a best friend. She felt she could trust him. She felt she could tell him anything.
She shook her head and smiled. Bek put her at ease, and that wasn’t something many men did. He didn’t invite her to be anyone other than who she really was. He didn’t expect anything from her. He wasn’t looking to compete, wasn’t trying to impress. He was a bit in awe of her, but she was used to that. The important thing was that he didn’t let it interfere with or intrude on their friendship.
She wondered where he was. She wondered what had happened to him. Somehow he had fallen into the hands of the Mwellrets and the Ilse Witch, been brought aboard Black Moclips and imprisoned. Then someone had rescued him. Who? Had he really lost his voice, as Aden Kett had said, or was he just pretending at it? She felt frustrated by her ignorance. She had so many questions and no way to determine the answers without finding Bek first. She did not like to think of him being hunted down there. But Bek was resourceful, able to find his way through dangers that would overwhelm other men. He would be all right until she found him.
Hawk would laugh at her, if he were there. He’s just a boy, he would say, not making the distinction she had. He’s not even one of us, not even a Rover.
But that didn’t matter, of course. Not to her, at least. What mattered was that Bek was her friend, and she could admit to herself, if to no one else, that she didn’t have many of these.