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Part 18: CYNAN
It was an eight-day flight to Vaalhest, and Wilde felt worse with every passing day. She spent much of her time shut up in one of the bunkhouses, poring over the rifle pieces and writing down what needed fixing for each part.
On the afternoon of the third day, Maira entered the bunkhouse to find her unconscious on the floor.
‘We can’t leave her alone,’ she told Ham. She’d gathered everyone in the galley, carrying Wilde there herself.
‘This is bad,’ Lance said. ‘She’s got a fever, and I don’t think that wound on her side is getting any better.’
‘We stop at the next waystation,’ Maira said. ‘I’m gonna get some coffee on board – we’ll fly through the night and get there sooner.’
‘You want to bring a dying girl to the Cannibal lands even faster?’ Ham cried. ‘Captain, I don’t think-’
‘They’ve got doctors in the Dimmerlands, Ham,’ Maira interrupted. ‘Now we need to get her somewhere safe, where she can be examined; she’s a fugitive in Medicine Leaf, so going back there is not an option. Bolthead is more than a week away; Vaalhest is our best options.’
So on they flew. The Fallen Star passed over the jungle as it transitioned into temperate forest, and continued North as the temperature fell.
They stopped for a few hours at the next waystation; Wilde was awake at this point, but groggy and dizzy. Maira took the liberty of dipping into the one crate of light on-board to pay for some extras: fresh water, towels, whatever herbs they had available. And about a month’s worth of coffee, which she paid extra to have the station-keeper brew her up a cup of immediately. She even took the step of putting out the call for extra hands – to little avail.
She was in the middle of her coffee, sipping the heavily-spiced drink (the keeper had helpfully spiked it with some chilli to taste), when an old and frail, pallid man approached.
‘You takin’ on hands to Vaalhest?’ he asked. Maira nodded.
‘Pulling double shifts,’ she said. ‘It’s not gonna be pleasant, but we’ll get there in another couple days.’
‘Cynan,’ he introduced himself, ‘of House Lies-in-Shadow.’ He held out his hand.
‘You don’t mind some all-nighters?’ she asked, grasping the hand. Cynan smiled.
‘There’s strength in these old bones yet,’ he said. ‘What’s the hurry?’
‘Got a sick crew. You got much to pack? We ship out basically as soon as I finish this coffee.’
‘Nothing but the clothes on my back,’ Cynan replied. ‘Happy for the lift.’
In short order the Fallen Star was ready to ship out. Save one minor point.
‘We’re not taking on a cannibal!’ Ham hissed, having steered Maira into the galley. Maira crossed her arms.
‘Ham, we’re about to have two very bad days,’ she said. ‘He’s old and he seems kind, and I for one am thankful for the extra help. If you have any concerns, he’s gonna be alternating between checking up on Wilde and helping me at the helm.’
‘You’re letting him near Wilde? In her state?’ Maira rolled her eyes.
‘I doubt he’s gonna do anything. Look, we need a hand, and he’s happy to lend his. He’s got an old, prestigious House name, too: Hides-in-Shadows or something.’
’You brought a member of Lies-in-Shadow onto our ship?’ It came out as a strangled cry, and Ham went almost pure white. ‘Maira, don’t you know anything about that house?’
‘Not really.’ Maira shrugged. ‘I’ve seen them around, they’re usually old diplomats and things – although House Bounder is taking that role more often lately. Easier to trust, a cannibal who’s promised not to hurt folks.’
‘Yeah! And House Bounder came out of Lies-in-Shadow! Because Lies-in-Shadow is the family of assassins! Thieves! Murderers!’
‘That’s enough, Ham!’ Maira snapped, and Ham had the decency to look cowed. Maira sighed; she took a breath and smoothed back her hair.
‘I understand your fears,’ she continued quietly. ‘But I’ve taken him on. This is going to be a difficult couple days, after which we’ll be spending some time in the company of Cannibals; I need to know you’ll be okay with it.’
‘I…’ Ham stared into her eyes, then shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, captain. Old Dorian hardly ever flew with cannibals – I can remember one or two in the books. It’s been so long, more than the thirty years this ship’s been grounded, and…’ he tailed off, wringing his hands. Maira took him by the shoulders and smiled.
‘You were flying with him at a time the corpos were waging all-out war against them,’ she said. ‘You probably heard more than your fair share of propaganda against them – I get it! But the world has moved on, and so have they. Cannibals aren’t the bloodthirsty savages they were portrayed as in the war stories; but they’re not the same as humans, that’s true enough. This is going to be a learning curve for all of us, but it starts here. Okay?’ Ham stared at her, looking his age for once; worn and worried and very, very tired.
‘Aye, okay,’ he murmured. ‘The timing’s just terrible, though! With a sick crew and just the two of us looking after things…’
‘I trust you to keep the engines safe,’ Maira called back as she opened the door. ‘I believe in you!’
When she returned to the helm she found Cynan there already. He sat in the captain’s chair with a cup of coffee, his cloak wrapped tight about him.
‘Uh,’ she began, but he turned and smiled at her. His hair was stark white, his face ashen grey, and about his jaws long spikes of bone protruded through the skin, a telltale sign of his advanced age. He had at least a dozen of varying sizes, Maira realised; he must’ve been at least a hundred.
‘Forgive me captain,’ he said. ‘My legs do not support me as long as they used to. I can man the wheel, so long as I can rest against it; but I did the rounds, introduced myself to the cabin boy – he seems nice, though a trifle too enamoured of the navy.’
Maira flashed a lopsided smile.
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘he’s like that. Was Wilde awake when you looked in – the girl?’ He shook his head. Then he stood and offered the coffee cup.
‘For you,’ he said. ‘I anticipate many cups before we reach Vaalhest – I will do all I can to help you there as fast as possible.’
‘Thank you,’ Maira said. She took the coffee – hot and bitter and black as night – and savoured the smell before taking a sip.
‘Your crew do not trust me,’ Cynan said matter-of-factly. ‘I appreciate you trying to dispel their prejudices.’ Maira shrugged, then moved to the radio.
‘Take us up,’ she ordered, and headed to the wheel. ‘You’re part of the crew for the next couple days,’ she added. ‘Doesn’t seem right they should be nervy around you.’ Cynan sat in the shadows at the map table, picking up the headset and listening through one ear.
‘It’s only natural – it wasn’t that long ago our nations were at war. We had lords and speakers who whipped us up into a frenzy, as you had your radio shows and dime novels to paint us as amoral villains.’
‘It’s, uh… good to know it wasn’t all one-sided,’ Maira managed. The waystation retreated into the evening sky as Maira steered North and the ship flew up, up, up, chasing the setting sun. They were silent for a long moment, Maira checking the compass and noting landmarks, Cynan staring at the orange fading to purple fading to the deep blue of night.
‘Do I make you nervous?’ Cynan asked eventually. Maira stiffened.
‘Look,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s not about you personally. We’re a crew of three, and one passenger who by all accounts is very sick. Even alone, and old as you are, one strong Cannibal isn’t going to have much trouble overpowering us. So it’s not that I don’t trust you; I’ve gotta keep my guard up until I can get a proper crew.’
Cynan hummed thoughtfully.
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I was the patriarch for my branch of Lies-in-Shadow. I watched as we dwindled, from hundreds, to dozens, to a mere few.’ He watched the wheel of the stars overhead and sighed. ‘In those last days I was paranoid and ferocious, watchful for any fever or pox, any hint of malice against us. I was in danger of turning us inward, isolating us from the world.’
Maira had turned to stare at him, one hand on the wheel absently holding it in true.
‘In the end,’ he continued, ‘I took myself away from my family. It gave them the best chance to continue, those few who were left. And I resigned myself to my death, but it did not come. I’ve been wandering for these thirty years, seeing the world, and now I wish to return home to die. Vaalhest is my ancestral home; I am fated to return there. I cannot harm those who are helping me on to my place of rest.’
He stared at Maira with intense eyes of crystal blue, and she saw at once the proud, mad general that he must have been.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for sharing your story with me.’
All at once the ship lurched as the wind changed and Maira had to turn her attention back to the flight as she grappled with the wheel. She swore as she patted her pockets for her compass.
‘We’re passing the foothills,’ Cynan said. ‘The air is smoother a couple hundred feet up.’ He clicked on the radio and spoke: ‘Mister Hamilton: please fire the light engine for five seconds.’
‘Oh?’ came the reply; then, ‘oh! Er… aye, sir!’ The radio cut out, replaced by the thrum of the light engine, spilling an aurora over the top of the window. Maira made to jerk the wheel sharply to one side, but in an instant Cynan was there; he held her firm, guided her hand.
‘See that star?’ he said, pointing so she could see. ‘Follow that one, it will keep you true.’
Maira centred herself at the wheel and turned to him; she was surprised at the speed and grace in such an ancient body, that he had caught the movement so quickly.
‘...Thank you,’ she said. He retreated, nodding.
‘I will do all I can to help you there as fast as possible,’ he said. ‘I am going to brew some more coffee for everyone, although I do not think young Lance should have any; should he need rest, I am content to watch over your passenger while he sleeps.’
And with that, he disappeared from the helm.