THE VEHICLE BLOTTED OUT THE SUN as it descended in uncanny silence. If this was Oud tech, Morgan thought with admiration, things had indeed changed since Marcus Bowman and Aryl di Sarc last stepped on this planet. This well-designed powerful craft would not have attracted a second look on a Trade Pact world.
Except by those concerned for their own safety, for as the Oud airship—there being no other name for anything this huge—slowed its approach, ports dropped open to emit hollow-mouthed tubes. Aimed at them.
In addition to what had to be weapons of some kind, clusters of small craft were attached to the airship’s longer sides. That the Oud had sufficient power in those silent engines to flaunt aerodynamics was his worrisome first thought.
The second being a speculation of what might be in those craft and their intention should the Oud feel threatened, Morgan had Sira pass a silent warning to the Sona First Scout. Destin sent him a sharp look, but kept her hands away from her knives.
Thought Traveler appeared bored. Something Morgan doubted.
The Oud airship sank lower and lower, sighing to a stop just above the point the Human had marked as too-close-we’re-leaving-now. The tube weapons retracted at seeming random, each door sliding in place at a different speed. Crewed, not automated, that told him. The airship’s belly was a mass of such small doors, implying a significant number. The rest of the underside was composed of wide fused straps of metal that looked more like bands of muscle than any construction method he’d seen before.
The metal itself? He’d need another look at Barac’s bracelet to be sure, but if he was right, they were the same, making the relic a connection between Oud and Om’ray, Oud and M’hiray. It could make the head spin.
Two of those doors were much larger—access ports, at a guess.
Sira stood beside him, her shaded face inscrutable, her emotions equally muted, other than the stir of curiosity. A lock of hair rested briefly on his arm. “Tell me this is a good idea,” she whispered, staring up.
“That depends on the Oud.”
A sideways glance. “Must you be so honest?”
Morgan half smiled. “Only with you, Witchling.”
The farther of the doors he’d noticed opened, one end dropping to reveal a ramp. The ramp’s end hovered the length of his arm from the wooden structure, as if aware it was fragile.
He hoped that meant those inside the airship were also aware of the fragility of the guests they’d just invited inside.