With a jolt, Farris woke, his heart racing as sweat pumped out from every pore.
“Penance,” he muttered, trying to recall the fleeting details of his dream. The Fall of Sin had occurred over three hundred years ago, but with the Silverback’s recent actions, it was certainly on everyone’s mind once again.
Despite the deepness of his slumber, Farris had woken just in time for lunch. Perhaps the Light of the Lady is still on my side.
When he stepped outside, the corridor was empty. He guessed that the crew were all up in the mess room. He walked quickly down the hallway past the ship’s entrance. A large window on the door revealed a surreal sea of clouds, rolling out to the horizon where silver met sapphire in the distance. Just below, a flock of birds flew along the side of the ship, delta in formation. It was a strange sensation, to be flying so high, with such speed, and not feel the wind in his face. It’s not all that different from a steamboat, really. For a moment, this amusing thought was enough to make him forget about all the thousands of feet beneath his own two.
He climbed the steel staircase and emerged onto another deck, wider than the last. The centre of the ceiling curved downwards with the shape of the hull above. Several rope-ladders dangled from trapdoors and swayed gently as the ship rocked back and forth.
They must lead up to the ship’s gasworks. He craned forwards to see inside.
“Excuse me… sir? Do you know where the food is being served?”
Startled, Farris turned to see the young Pyromancer from before. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing two skinny arms that Farris imagined he could snap in half with little effort. A mass of unkempt tangles and curls sat upon his head, like a black mop. In contrast, there was a bright freshness to his face, with skin smooth and clear like a marble sculpture.
This one knows comfort. The woman in white and the knight joined them, the latter in a fouler humour than before.
“The mess room is this way, begging your pardon,” said Farris enthusiastically, beckoning the three in the direction he guessed the food was being served. They walked under the hanging ladders, and Farris caught sight of the ship’s huge stomach above. Another engineer in blue swiftly climbed between two massive gas ballonets, shapeless and grey like the clouds outside.
To Farris’s relief, the first pair of wooden doors he opened led into a dining area, with several circular tables in the centre, and a long food-bar along the walls. More workers dressed in blue stood in a queue with empty trays in hand.
“Just grab a tray and join the end of the line, I suppose!” he suggested, laughing meekly. The knight and the Pyromancer didn’t look impressed, but the woman smiled and thanked Farris, giving him an opportunity to disappear into the crowd of hungry crewmen.
There were some Simians already seated, and they wore fine, white suits and dined with paper napkins tied under their chins. In comparison to the grubby mechanics and engineers, Farris reckoned these were the officers and navigators. The real Chester would be eating with them. He picked up a tray for himself.
The others took their seats as he noticed an obvious divide between both groups.
Chester would be with the whites, but they might recognise me and pry for details. He shuffled towards the servers as the line shifted forwards. On the other hand, it might seem strange if I join the wrong group. A tall Human chef in grey overalls grunted as he tossed two boiled potatoes and a quarter stick of butter onto Farris’s tray.
After some consideration, he joined the mechanics and deckhands, deducing that if there were other agents on board, it was more likely that the king would have them impersonate those who didn’t require years of experience to be there.
After all, the Crown didn’t even know Chester was a crewman in the first place.
Farris took a seat opposite the dark Simian he had already identified as an agent. A Human beside him spoke enthusiastically of recent events in the capital.
“Tragic, that Santos went the way he did, but that’s the nature of political terrorism. The Silverback claims that we were wrong to take his land by force, so he commits more murder to make a point.”
“Hear, hear!” exclaimed another Human, raising his cup in agreement.
There were eight of them in total, and Farris was quick to note that even the Simians were nodding as the first man relayed the details of the attack on the king. The black Simian agent sat mainly in silence.
Another Simian sat to the left of him. He was thin like a rail, with a wiry wisp of a red beard under his chin. He sat relatively confidently compared to his neighbour, adding to the conversation whenever the speaker took a breath.
“He claims to be fighting for us all,” the thin Simian said, his tone heavy with aggression, “but I still see him as a murderer and a fool. A fool who’s fighting a war nobody wants him to win.”
The door to the mess room opened, and more crewmembers spilled in, queuing for food as others grabbed a table just behind Farris.
How many of them are there? There still must be some working to keep the ship in the air.
From the corner of his eye, Farris saw the knight and the mages sitting on their own. If one of the mages were on the same mission as Farris, it would mean that the Church was involved too.
Good thing neither of them are Wraiths, at least.
It was a comforting thought, as Farris figured that the Church surely would have sent Wraiths on board instead of the mages if the king had commanded it. That still left the knight, however. He was wealthy, that much was clear, but he spoke and walked like one who was insecure or overcompensating. Farris grinned.
Or acting.
The table behind him was full now, and the white-shirts across the room looked as if they were getting ready to leave.
A sudden pang of terror struck Farris’s chest, as a hammer would a gong. His heartbeat accelerated, each beat sending quivering waves of fear through his bones.
This could be his only chance to have so many crewmembers in one room. Once those senior members went back into the bridge and closed the doors, they probably wouldn’t be seen again until landing. Once the other mechanics climbed back up into the hull, well, Farris could follow, but that would raise far too much suspicion.
I could wait. Another wave of panic crept up his spine and grasped at his throat. I could wait until we land in Penance and kill the spies there and….
He closed his eyes, figuring out the possible outcomes.
If I get caught, I can explain from a jail cell. If I fail, I could run and warn the Silverback but….
But in truth, he didn’t know what the king was planning from there. The strike on Penance could take place a day or a week from now.
Farris’s teeth began to chatter as another bolt of anxiety shook his skull. Stars and sparks danced in his vision. The others still talked to one another, exchanging friendly banter, completely unaware of Farris’s condition.
I’ve gone too far. I’ve dug too deep and now I’ve gone too far.
He tried to take a deep breath, but another shudder took him, as if every bone in his body was screaming, begging him to curl up and die.
Then he saw it. A tiny tray in the centre of the table, made to collect ashes and embers from pipes and cigars. The sight brought so much joy, it may as well have been filled with gold. The panic passed, disappearing as quickly as it had come, and he leaned back in his chair and reached for his own pipe.
