Kanin Fyre: Chapter 7 - Hide and Seek

It takes me a moment to even realize the airship has begun to move. Unlike the little ship Flint had flown us in to reach the Drifting Isles, the Sun Skimmer carries over twenty crew members and at least a hundred passengers. It’s a good thing I don’t need to sleep, because the only accommodations left were small, single-cot rooms. The main deck is packed with people, all looking over the rails and waving to family and friends left on the dock. Burners hiss overhead, stoking a series of suspended flames to fill the airship’s enormous, oblong balloon with heated air. The dark blue material ripples as a breeze brushes past us, and the ground beneath us begins to shift. 

“I admit,” I tell Zyneth, “I wasn’t excited by the prospect of flying again so soon. But this is way better than before. I bet you can’t even get motion sick on this thing.” 

“You can’t get motion sick anyway,” Zyneth says. 

“That’s beside the point.” I float a couple pieces of glass above me to look out over the heads of the passengers lining the rails. We’re only a dozen or so feet off the ground, but steadily rising. The coast is moving toward us; by the time we reach it, we should be hundreds of feet overhead. 

“You don’t look nearly so pleased,” I remark.

“It’s fine,” Zyneth objects without any enthusiasm. In fact, he looks a little disappointed. “It’s just not as exciting as a small airship, is it?” 

I laugh. “I’m sure we’ll find something sufficiently life-threatening for you soon enough. Would you rather hang beneath the ship?” I tease. “I could use some glass to make you a swing.”

Zyneth snorts, playfully shoving at my shoulder. I stagger back exaggeratedly—and bump into another passenger. 

“Oops,” I sign. “Sorry.”

The lamia gives me a strange look. Her gaze flicks between me and Zyneth, and for a moment I think she’s about to demand an apology. Instead, she replies, “It can sign?”

Oh, yeah. So, I’m not wearing my human disguise right now. The upgrades Red gave my spell means it depletes a lot faster, so we decided to save it for when we need it—namely, once we’re near the Gods’ Tournament and I don’t want anyone’s attention drawn to a weird glass homunculus. But we figured it would be fine while we were on the airship—people still stare, but no one bothers me when I’m around Zyneth. 

She tips her head. “Why do you have it wearing clothes?”

Something dangerous flashes in Zyneth’s eyes, and the muscles in his neck goes tight as he clenches his jaw. I would be flattered by how much this bothers him, but I can’t really blame the woman, either. I’m a bit of a homunculus anomaly. 

“He,” Zyneth grits out. “It…” 

Wow he’s really struggling with this. “I’m a new model,” I sign to the woman. “Interpreter. The clothes help people feel more comfortable.” And by people, I mean me. 

She raises her eyebrows, impressed. “I’ve never seen such a thing. A bit extravagant. But certainly an improvement over those translation stones. Where did you find it?”

Zyneth glances at me with a quick “Really?” kind of look. I barely lift my shoulders in a hint of a shrug. Sure. Why not? Saves explaining the whole soul thing to hundreds of people. I’m an actor—I can pretend to be some super advanced magic robot for a few days.

“Yes,” Zyneth says weakly. “He is my interpreter.”

I translate this for the lamia, because I guess that’s what I do now. I include referring to myself as male, because even if that doesn’t make sense for a homunculus, I know it would start to bug the crap out of me after a couple days. I give some explanation about this being easier for people to talk to, and she seems to buy it.

“In that case, is there a name I should use for him?” she asks.

Zyneth hesitates. Yeah, we probably shouldn’t use my real name, since the gods know about it. With an extra hand, I spell out a name behind my back.

He takes just a little bit too long to parse it out. “It’s Jack,” he says, highly dubious.

Why yes, that was the name of my most successful Hollywood part. I figure it deserves some sort of homage.

The woman exchanges another couple of pleasantries with Zyneth before excusing herself.

“Well that went well,” I say. “This should be fun!”

Zyneth does not look nearly so enthusiastic.

#

The day passes without event, apart from a few more curious passengers speaking to Zyneth about me. Being seen as inhuman doesn't bother me nearly as much now as it had before, but I can tell I’ll get tired of it soon. Or at least, I’ll get tired of not being seen as a person. 

I’m not sure how I’ll be able to normalize this. On the bright side, the gods aren’t looking for a homunculus. It’s really just my name I need to be careful with. But eventually, I don’t want to have to wear a disguise. I don’t want to have to pretend anymore. I just want to be able to talk to people. Though, given the way anyone who was not seen as ‘normal’ was treated back on Earth, maybe that’s a privilege I no longer have.

As dusk approaches, Ink begins to stir. It wonders if we will be sparring again tonight.

That’s a good question. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to manage that on an airship. Not to mention, just letting Ink roam around in general. I can only imagine how well that will go over with the nightly patrol. When I’d been sparring with Noli and Zyneth, we’d taken a while to find an area where we were unlikely to be bothered by guards or late passersby. Here, we have significantly less privacy.

Can’t you just take a few nights off? I ask.

Several nights?! No. That is unfair. 

What, you care about fairness now? When did you decide to develop morals?

Ink doesn’t dignify this with a response. And anyway, why must it be the one to compromise? It hasn’t ever been allowed to be in control for several days.

That’s different, I think. You’re the one hitchhiking in my body.

 It knows this isn’t my body.

Fine, you’re hitchhiking in my head then.

It doesn’t see why this would make any difference.

OK, well, it’s got me there. I just don’t like losing arguments to a sapient shadow. But this doesn’t solve the dilemma of  our nightly agreement. How are we going to make this work without giving someone a heart attack?

As Zyneth returns to his room to unpack his belongings, I lean against the wall and relay the conversation I’ve been having with Ink. 

“What do you think?” I ask. “Is there any chance we can find somewhere secluded below deck to spar so it can get some of its energy out?”

Zyneth glances up at me. “I’m not sure. It really can’t wait?”

I mentally glance at Ink. I could probably talk it into waiting a night or two, but I doubt it will play along for the entire four-day voyage. The longer it goes without having some autonomy, the grumpier it gets. And the grumpier it gets, the harder it is for me to suppress it.

“Probably not,” I tell him.

He frowns, scratching his chin. “What if we tried a different approach? A kind of training that isn’t sparring.”

 “I’m listening.”

“Instead of combat, we could practice stealth,” he suggests. “It can still have its outing, but now it focuses on not being seen.” 

Ink considers this proposal. Fighting still sounds more fun, but sneaking around could also be enjoyable, if not a little boring. 

Think of it as a competition, I tell Ink. You win if no one sees you.

Sounds like a boring competition. 

“Zyneth could try to track us down,” I suggest aloud. “That way it’s more of a game.” 

Ink perks up at this suggestion. Now things are starting to sound fun. Maybe we could sneak up on him instead. 

Yeah, good luck with that buddy. 

“I can do that,” Zyneth says. “But let’s wait until it’s gotten a bit later, first. This isn’t like the city; people will probably be awake and moving around here for a few hours still. Once it’s deeper into the night, I can come looking for you.” A mischievous smile creeps onto his face. “Though I won’t tell you when.” 

Now Ink is fully invested, and I think Zyneth might be enjoying this idea just as much. At least they’re happy. 

Zyneth prepares for bed, and we leave all our clothes in his room so they won’t get in the way while we’re sneaking about. Once it’s sufficiently dark, we slip out his door. 

His room is one floor below deck, but the hall isn’t entirely dark. There are faint runes glowing in the walls near the floor, illuminating the path just enough for someone to be able to watch their step. This is inconvenient for our stealth operation, but we don’t head up to the main deck just yet. We want to spend some time scouting the area, first, learning all its nooks and crannies. We coat a layer of void over our glass to silence our footsteps as we move. 

The rooms line the airship’s hull, so there are no windows in the hallway. The floor is shaped like a squared figure eight, so there’s not much to explore. A door toward the back leads into crew quarters, we think, but we decide to leave it alone for now. Getting caught right at the beginning of our trip wouldn’t be a great start. 

We frequently start and stop, listening for any noise, ready to retreat down a passageway if someone is headed in our direction. Everyone appears asleep, however, and no one leaves their room. Picking the closest stairwell, we creep up to the main deck. 

The main deck is shaped like an O, with a central area that’s an enclosed lounge and diner. Outside, it’s open air, though there’s likely some spell or another dampening the wind, as the night feels still and quiet. Two crescent moons linger close to the horizon. We imagine the sky must be splattered with stars, but the flames of the airship wipe them out. 

We’d forgotten about the open flames. Even though there are no other lights on the deck save for the row of fire flickering beneath the balloon’s openings, it’s still brighter than we had expected. This stealth mission might be trickier than we thought. 

Voices drift from the back of the ship, so sticking to the shadows, we creep slowly in their direction. We stop when the owners of the voices come into view, pressing ourself to the wall. 

Two airmen are standing at the rail, speaking in low, friendly voices. They pass something small, lit, and leaking a glowing blue smoke back and forth, alternately taking drags. If they’re supposed to be on watch, they aren’t doing a great job—or perhaps there’s not much to watch out for on ships like these. Either way, we keep going, circling around the deck. 

Altogether, there are five crewmates stationed on the deck; two chatting at the back, two chatting at the front, and one who seems to actually take their duty seriously and makes slow, lonely laps around the ship. This leaves plenty of blind spots for us to exploit. 

When no one is around, we use a Void Limb to hoist ourself up on top of the central lounge, where the stoking flames are mounted. Firelight scatters through our glass the moment we reach the top, and we hurry away from the edge, pressing ourself flat against the surface. 

We wait a beat, listening for any raised alarms, but no one seems to have noticed. Sending out a handful of glass to station around the edge of the structure, we’re provided with a three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the deck beneath us. No one should be able to sneak up on us now. 

Still keeping an eye on the five guards, we begin to explore. There are spell circles up here that are maintaining the flames, along with a much more complicated spell network that we can’t make out, but assume has something to do with keeping this thing flying. Unfortunately there’s not much more of interest up here. When there’s another gap in the watch’s rounds, we slip back down the wall and find the door leading into the central lounge, leaving a handful of glass back up on the roof to keep watch. 

The lounge has windows nearly all the way around, so we can easily look back out to the main deck—and others can just as easily look in. We stay low to the floor as we map out the space. Dozens of plush chairs and seats are arranged around coffee tables, especially positioned toward the walls to provide the passengers a good view of the sky. 

A hint of frustration bubbles within us. We’re starting to get bored. There aren’t many places to hide on the public facing side of the ship—it was probably designed that way. Maybe we should go back below deck and try sneaking into the crew area after all. We bet there are a lot more interesting things to find and hide behind in the deepest layers of the hull. 

The door to the lounge opens. 

We freeze, midway through the room. How had we missed someone approaching the door? We need to pay better attention to our seeing glass. Too late now. 

We reach to add our body to our Inventory—just our void and core will be much easier to hide—but realize we’ve left all our excess glass in there. Dammit! We really wish we still had all our Inventory spaces. 

The crewmate places a hand against the wall, and a faint glow illuminates around the floor of the walls, like the hallway below deck. 

There goes the plan to press ourself against a wall. 

The crewmate whistles a thoughtless tune as they start a leisurely lap around the room. We haven’t moved, still crouched in the middle of the lounge, away from any nearby chairs, but also away from the floor lights. As long as the crew doesn’t head our way, and we continue to keep still, it’s dark enough that they probably won’t see us. 

They turn our way. Of course they do. 

If we make a dash now, they’ll almost certainly notice the movement. If they get closer, they’ll probably see we’re not a chair. Options… options!

We mentally race through our spell list—there!

It’s been a while since we’ve needed to use this one, but it’s high time we leveled it up. 

We reach for the spell—and feel Echo crackling just out of reach. In a panic, we push harder, reaching through the mental interference that happens anytime Ink and the System interact. 

But we don’t need Echo to use our spells. We just have to picture what we want. Will the void and glass to react as we intend them to—

The elements shift, locking into place around our body. We push mana into the void, and our vision seems to shimmer. 

[...ction activated.]

Our Refraction spell snaps into focus, the glass and void and mana interplaying to warp light through our body in a rudimentary kind of camouflage. We stay perfectly still, waiting to see if the illusion holds. 

The crewmate continues to walk in our direction. They don’t look at us; but they are directly on a collision course. Keeping careful hold of our spell, we shift to the side, slowly easing out of their path. One step—two. 

Their gaze shifts toward us, and we freeze. They also pause, glancing around. Silence rings through the dark room. No one breathes. 

Well, of course we don’t breathe. Beside the point. 

Then they start forward once more, passing by us so close we could have reached out and grabbed them. 

We slump in relief, keeping the spell going as we quietly back toward the nearest cluster of chairs for some cover. We have no doubt they would have noticed us in broad daylight. It’s lucky that they hadn’t turned the lights on in the room all the way—and doubly lucky that we have this spell. We should start using it more often. Why haven’t we been using it before? It’s—

We feel the mana stutter out, evaporating from our void and glass. 

[...na depleted…]

Oh, right. That’s why. It’s so mana intensive that it’s usually only practical to use around our core, not our entire body. Well, if we can increase our mana pool, and level the spell up enough to decrease its mana drain, it might become something pretty powerful. 

The door opens, and the crewmate steps back outside. The door shuts with a soft click. We watch them through our glass we had stationed outside, checking in on the other guards, too. Everyone accounted for. They’ll probably switch shifts at some point, so we’ll need to keep a bit of our awareness focused on them to catch when that happens. We begin to move once more, finishing our lap of the lounge. There’s nothing terribly exciting in here—no small corners to hide in. Looks like the next step is getting behind the ship’s walls after all. 

A floorboard creaks. We stop, just in time to hear one of the other doors clicking shut. We snap our attention back to some glass we’d left below deck; Zyneth’s door is cracked open. Dammit. When did he—

We swirl a cluster of our glass through the room, and this time we notice when the shadows move. We dash to the side, and the shadow follows. Zyneth pounces on the spot we just left. He’s squinting his eyes, so the faint gold light that trickles from them are reduced to nearly invisible slits of yellow. 

He moves toward us once more, and excitement simmers in our mind, our stance shifting from stealth to combat. As we retreat, we leave a flat pool of void behind us, and when Zyneth moves over it, we wrap the shadows around his leg. Zyneth jerks back, his knife cutting silently through the void with a sting of pain—but we reform the hold a moment later. He’s not using his lightning to push the void back—that would draw unwanted attention. Which means we have the advantage. 

We spring toward him while yanking his leg toward us. He grunts as his feet go out from under him and we impact his chest, sending him to the ground. 

Somehow, he turns this into a roll that ends with him on top of us. With an annoyed growl, we throw him to the side, trying once more to pin him—

“Aright,” he says with a quiet laugh. He’s breathing lightly from the scuffle, “Alright, that’s enough.” 

Sure, he calls it quits when we’re the ones winning. 

“You lose,” he says. 

What?! “No,” we growl through the translator, since it would be too dark for Zyneth to see our signs. “We won.” 

“The goal was stealth,” Zyneth reminds us. “I found you. You lose.” 

We bristle. Only because our mana was all used up! If we had kept that going when Zyneth was here, we’re sure we would have gotten the jump on him. 

“Again,” we demand. “Rematch.” 

“Tomorrow,” he promises. “I need to get some rest. Use the time to practice disguising your glass better. I was basically able to follow your trail of shards straight here.”

We scowl. That’s cheating. 

Zyneth chuckles, as if he can hear our irritation. He stands up, sheathing his blade. “Stop stewing. You did good. I found you because I knew what to look for. The fact that you avoided that crew means your stealthiness is at least somewhat effective.” 

Why did that compliment feel like an insult? 

“I’m heading back now,” he informs us. “Wake me if you need anything. Have a good night, you two.” 

We watch him slip away into the shadows with mild annoyance. But only mild. A part of us puffs up in self-satisfaction; Zyneth acknowledged us. Both of us.