Maxim turned to Fengel. "This is madness, Captain. Let's get back aboard and get clear. I don't know what these Draykin are, but they don't sound friendly. And do we really need that gemstone?"
Fengel considered, tapping his chin. "Right you are. The locals don't sound very friendly at all. And here I am, going to do them a service, even." He turned back to Lina Stone. The young woman stood with her awful pet a short distance away watching the proceedings. "Miss Stone. Get back up aboard. Bring a message to Lucian."
She blinked at him. "Captain?"
"Mister Smalls, Gunny Lome, Oscar Pleasant, Geoffrey Lords, and Maxim are all with me and this Rastalak. We'll make our way over to the city on foot during the dark of this evening. A small group is less conspicuous. Tell Lucian to get aloft and drift on over to the city, this Yrinium. Do it as quickly as you can, then hold position. Be showy about it. I want all these Draykin busy watching you, and not us. Once we've got the Lantern in hand, we'll return here and light a fire. Then just swing back and pick us up." He rubbed his hands together. "We've plenty of coal still in our stores. It's a perfect plan. Utterly foolproof."
Henry Smalls stared at him in dismay. "Sir, you can't mean to do this. That gem is cursed, and held by a bunch of angry, violent savages. We've already got a hold full of treasure, and the Dawnhawk. Why are we even considering this?"
"There's no such thing as curses," said Fengel. "And this order is not open to debate. I mean to have that gem. Miss Stone, get back aloft. We should have the stone by noontime tomorrow."
The steward stared at him. Then he shook his head.
"Captain," said Lina. "Why can't I go? Me and Runt—"
Fengel held up a hand. He was fond of Miss Stone and she had proven useful in a pinch. But this was going to be truly dangerous work. That, and her new pet revolted him. "I've no room in the party. And docile though that thing may be, we cannot risk it. Better it be left aboard, and as it is your responsibility to look after it, you must stay aloft too." He turned back to Rastalak without meeting her eyes. "Now. You say that time is of the essence? Let us move on."
The Draykin nodded. It turned to the press of greenery and disappeared. Fengel gave one final nod to his steward and moved to follow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Stone. She glared at him, then muttered under her breath and started the long climb back up to the Dawnhawk. It was for the best, really.
The ferns warding the jungle were a green wall into darkness. Fengel took a breath and pressed through. They brushed his face and caught at his jacket for a moment before giving way to a space where the last vestiges of twilight disappeared entirely. Thick underbrush fought with low-hanging creepers for space, and the wide trunks of trees stood like silent sentinels, their columns supporting the green canopy high above.
Rastalak moved like a ghost ahead of him. Its small form and scaly hide was perfect camouflage. It walked at a good speed, neither talking nor looking back at the pirates. Fengel chased after it while his crewmen followed, almost blindly. Sometimes he lost it entirely in the gloom. He would then all but run into it, waiting patiently for the humans behind to catch up.
Fengel didn't entirely trust the creature. It had lured him to their meeting via trickery and subterfuge, and with its reptilian mannerisms, he found he couldn't read the thing like he could a normal man. It was an iconoclast, though, if not an outright criminal, apparently going against the wishes of its tribe. Still, it knew where the Lantern was, and more so, wanted his help in stealing it away. Fengel was happy to oblige.
The Governor's Lantern had preyed much on his mind of late. All the night before he had dreamed of it. Today he'd had Lucian recount all that he'd heard of its initial appearance, and had then spent most of the afternoon shut in his room with the logbook. Fengel could almost see it in his mind's eye; larger than an apple, egg-shaped, milky light shining from its facets. Maybe I could sell all the treasure, and just keep the gem?
He tripped on a fallen log and almost went sprawling. Fengel regained his balance with a curse, made sure his hat was on properly, then called out to their guide. "I say. It's getting to the point I can barely see my hand in front of my face. Haven't you a torch we can light?" Maybe we should go back and gather lanterns?
Their Draykin guide paused only half a moment. "No. Too easily seen." It half-turned back to face him. "Can you not move more quietly? Your noise is great."
Before he could reply it turned back and moved onward. Fengel glared at the little creature until someone behind him stumbled. Looking back, he spied Henry Smalls cursing in the dirt.