But still. It wasn't quite perfect.
Fengel stopped his pacing and turned toward the starboard rails. He spied Miss Stone a few dozen paces away, back to the gunwales, playing with her new pet. The young woman seemed to be teaching it to sit up, the scryn making odd little leaps at the open flask in her hands. Fengel shuddered and forced himself to put her out of his mind. If she wanted to keep the little monster, then he wouldn't stop her. She'd made it plain to him that this was what she wanted for rescuing the ship in the Maelstrom. If the beast went rabid they'd kill it. If she actually trained the thing, what she did with it didn't really matter.
He gazed out at the jungle canopy. It stretched below them into the horizon, only broken here and there by the swell of hills bulging up to form lonesome and craggy cliffs. As far as he knew, he might very well be the first civilized person to set eyes on them. The initial surveyors had never made it this far into the Interior.
The thought struck him then. Below him lay a strange new world. Wondrous and ancient, and he had all the freedom to explore it at his whim. But what he really wanted was someone to show it to. Someone to hold beneath the shining moon, someone he could confide in...
Fengel snorted. He pushed the thoughts aside and gazed out at the jungles of the Yulan. Maybe I should write a journal? A memoir? People back on the Western Continent bought up air pirate stories like mad. Why shouldn't he be involved in that? And there were the Perinese explorers' clubs. What would they pay for an account of the Stormwall and the Yulan Interior viewed from the air? Captain Fengel, he mused, The Adventurer. The title certainly made him sound more dashing. Even if there wasn't much money to be had, there would be renown. And that was just as good.
Henry Smalls approached, grey hair ghostly in the moonlight. He likely wanted to hint that Fengel should retire to the captain's cabin below. Fengel was far too interested in his own idea, however, and struck first. "Mister Smalls," he said with a smile.
The little steward paused. "Yes, sir?"
"Go give Maxim a new heading. Slightly north by northeast. Then, take a hand or two and bring up a chair, writing table, and implements. By the bow, I think."
Henry stared for a moment. Then he nodded. "Sir."
A short time later Fengel was seated by the bow railings. He held a quill in hand and stared out at the evening sky. Let's see. There we were, deep in the stinking jungles of the Yulan Interior. My treacherous harpy of a wife... He penned a few more lines. Reaching the end of the page, he paused to re-examine his work. It took all of two seconds to decide that they were rubbish. Fengel tried again, reordering his thoughts.
It didn't work. Time and again he tried to jot down an exciting opening line for the memoir. But upon review he found them tawdry, banal, or downright silly. The moon rose higher and Fengel decided to take a break, his hand cramped from holding the feather quill. He pushed the chair back and stood to stretch. Leaning on the gunwales, he pondered the ghostly jungle below. Weird hoots and strange cries echoed up from it. He smelled overripe citrus and odder scents on the air. The evening breeze here was pleasant, but the air itself was warm and muggy.
Something caught his eye. A light twinkled in the jungle canopy far off to the east, just below the horizon. It was probably just the moonlight on a lake, or even the headwaters of the Silverpenny River they had left behind.
Curious, he retrieved his spyglass from within his coat. Extending it, he placed the device to his eye and peered out at the light. It resolved a little, but was still too far away to ascertain. It wasn't a river or lake, of that he was certain. The color was off as well. It burned orange and yellow, not the silver of reflected moonlight.
A campfire?
Henry Smalls approached the bow. He stopped beside his captain, waiting quietly.
"Here," said Fengel. He passed the spyglass to his steward. "What do you see out there?"
Mr. Smalls took the glass deftly and peered where Fengel indicated. "Is that a...campfire?"
Fengel nodded. "That's what I'd thought. But out here? We're still at least three days out from Breachtown, and that's as the dragon flies. Natasha and crew are directly behind us now, and a goodly distance away."
Henry passed back the spyglass. "Could be another expedition. Or something else. It's not entirely empty out here, from what I've heard."
The Yulan Interior was a strange, mysterious place. But Henry wasn't wrong. Tribal savages had been discovered by the Breachtown Colony, and were regularly traded with. Rumors circulated of other things as well, tribes of ogres that lived in the deep jungle and even sightings of dragons against the horizon. Such creatures were either nigh extinct on the Western Continent or driven to the deepest, darkest places in which to hide. The Yulan, however, was virgin territory.