The warforged lowered his gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued. “I will leave you to your privacy, Seren,” he said. “If you require me for anything, I shall be meditating in the forward cargo bay.”
Seren did not reply. Omax rose, gave a strangely formal bow, and departed. She waited where she was, listening to the sound of the construct’s heavy metal footfalls receding through the ship. When she was fairly sure the warforged was gone, she opened her cabin door and tentatively stepped out into the hall. She was on the lower deck of the airship and could hear the steady hum of the ship’s elemental ring pulsing beneath her feet.
Small doors lined the narrow hallway on either side. This part of the ship’s lower deck was filled with these small cabins. As she continued forward, Seren heard movement inside the cabin closest to her own. She smelled a pungent, chemical smell from beyond the door, accompanied by a faint bubbling. She leaned closer to listen, and the bubbling grew more intense, followed by the sound of breaking glass and Tristam Xain swearing violently.
Seren moved on, climbing the ladder that separated the cabins and cargo bay, emerging on the main deck. She felt a chill as the wind rushed over her bare arms and cut through her thin breeches. Looking out over the rail it was difficult to tell how high the ship flew. All around was a vast sea of clouds, showing only a rare hint of green beneath. In the distance, she saw Gerith’s glidewing diving in and out of the clouds. She felt a detached sense of peace and safety. The flight of an airship was so calming, despite everything that had happened. She had no idea what lay ahead or what truly motivated Dalan d’Cannith and his strange crew, but somehow standing on the deck of Karia Naille she felt safer than she had since leaving Ringbriar so long ago.
“Good morning,” Captain Gerriman said blandly from the ship’s wheel. He peered pointedly at the sun, fixed precisely overhead in the noonday sky. “Glad to see your first day on board was such a productive one.”
“No one warned me about sky sickness, Captain,” Seren said.
The gnome looked at her, stroking his bushy white moustache with one hand. “I think you misunderstand me, Miss Morisse,” he said. “I meant what I said. A crewman willing to work herself to a stupor on the first day is exactly the sort of person who leaves a lasting positive impression on me. Just don’t do it again. I respect determination, but I am not a great admirer of stupidity.” He returned his attention to the ship’s controls, turning the wheel idly with one hand.
“Well,” Seren said with a small laugh, “then I should get back to work.” She looked around at the deck. “What needs to be done?”
“Nothing, really,” Pherris said with a shrug. “Gerith can be a little obsessive, always finding something to clean or polish, but she takes care of herself just fine most of the time. Sit and rest for a bit. If you plan to stay on my ship, I’d appreciate coming to know you better.”
“I thought you said you preferred ignorance,” Seren said.
“About how you came to know Dalan, yes,” he said. “But what sort of person you are and what sort of things you’ve done, while not entirely unrelated, are separate affairs. It is the former that interests me.”
“It isn’t much of a story,” she said. She climbed to the upper deck and sat cross-legged in the bow of the ship. “I come from a little village called Ringbriar. After the end of the war, I just thought I’d be better off somewhere else.”
“Ah,” Pherris said. “Did you lose your family, then? Parents dead in the war?”
“My father died in the war,” she said. “My mother was alive, the last time I saw her.”
“You don’t know for sure if your mother is alive?” he asked, incredulous.
“I haven’t seen her in years,” Seren said. “She’s better off without me.”
“Hrm,” Pherris said. He studied the clouds off to the left. His thoughts were elsewhere.
“You seem much different today, Captain,” Seren finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “A lot calmer than you were when we first met.”
Pherris wrinkled face twisted in a grin. “When you met me, I had just been commanded to fly my ship unauthorized into the Brelish capital in the dead of night to rescue my employer from unknown enemies. Today I have the luxury of patience. My patience is not an infinite commodity, and I find it is expended more often than not in Master d’Cannith’s service.”
Seren glanced quickly toward the door of Dalan’s cabin, then back at the captain.
“Oh, trust me, Miss Morisse, he is well aware of my opinion of him,” Pherris said. “I am a gnome who speaks his mind, and he knows the ship would fall apart without me.”
“If you think so little of him, why do you work for him?” she asked.
“Because Karia Naille once belonged to Dalan’s uncle, a good and honorable man,” Pherris said.
“Ashrem d’Cannith built this ship?” Seren asked.
Pherris looked extremely shocked. “Built her?” he said, scoffing. “Ashrem didn’t build Karia Naille. He improved her, certainly, and he understood what drives her better than most humans. I’ll argue none of that, but Karia Naille and her sister ships are products of gnomish ingenuity. The Canniths would have you believe they build everything, but I assure you that is not the case!”
“I didn’t mean any offense,” Seren said. “I don’t know much about airships.”
“Ah,” Pherris said, his tone softening somewhat. “Well, if you ever wish to know more, I am at your disposal. But to answer your original question, Ashrem once had three airships, Karia Naille, the Kenshi Zhann, and the Albena Tors-or, translated, the Mourning Dawn, the Seventh Moon, and the Dying Sun. If you ask me, this one is the finest of the three, fastest at a sprint and prettiest by far. Ashrem had her built for Kiris-the young wizard who stole his heart. Of course Kiris spent most of her time with Ashrem on the Kenshi Zhann and left the ship under my able command. When she shared Ashrem’s fate, the Mourning Dawn passed to Dalan. I can’t imagine why Ashrem would bequeath such ship to his nephew-the two were not particularly close-but he did. I offered Dalan my services on the day the will was read. I could not envision Karia Naille in the hands of another captain. Master d’Cannith knew better than to refuse. We have our differences, but on professional matters we recognize one another’s talents. He leaves the ship in my hands. I leave the rest to him.”
“And what of the others?” she asked. “Gerith, Tristam, Omax. How did they end up here?”
“Gerith’s tale is simple enough,” Pherris said. “He was looking for work, and I’d flown with him a few times before. His experience as a scout, explorer, and translator speaks for itself. He’s lived half as long as I have and seen twice as much of the world. I was afraid he might get bored and leave again until we hit Wroat. Now we’re moving again, so he’s interested, and I’m sure a pretty young human girl joining the crew didn’t hurt. Tristam and Omax are a bit more complicated.”
“Complicated?” she asked.
Pherris looked back at the door of Dalan’s cabin, then back at Seren. His voice became much softer, as if concerned he would be overheard. “It all goes back to Dalan,” he said, “and his uncle, of course.”
“How?”
“You ask a great deal of questions, Miss Morisse,” Pherris said shrewdly. “You are quite fortunate that gossip is the Zilargo national pastime.”
Seren laughed.
“Dalan is obsessed with his uncle’s work, and rightly so,” the captain said, answering her question.