The Voyages of Cinrak the Dapper

by A. J. Fitzwater

  Riddle led Helet away just as efficiently as if her good eye was uncovered. Cinrak always admired that skill in her first mate.

  Cinrak clumped back down to the dock so Mereg could talk without getting green around the gills. “Talk fast, or North Wind help me, I be stickin’ puffer fish in yer breakfast.”

  “Ye said ye needed the best to beat everyone to the beard, so I brought ye the best.” Mereg tapped their walking cane. They’d fashioned it to hide a wicked thin rapier within. “She ken how them wild fairies be.”

  The captain and her mentor walked the length of the ship, checking the last of the supplies being hauled aboard by winch and pulley.

  “But I be bettin’ ye know more.” Cinrak pulled at the hem of her vest in the union green and purple colours, then stopped. She’d have to pay particular attention to her frustrated tells around Helet. She would pick on anything.

  “Here.” Mereg palmed her another packet. “I wrote up all me notes. Be rememberin’ that wild to them don’t mean what it means to rodentkind. In old fairy dialect it mean ‘O’ the people’. Their ways may be different and often impenetrable to us, but it’s kept ‘em an’ their land safe for a long time.”

  “Aye, aye, ser.” Cinrak slapped an exaggerated paw to breastbone salute. “What ye reckon the Beard o’ Covetona an’ the Great Capybara Mother have in common?”

  Mereg tapped their cane against a dock piling. Something twinkled deep in their eyes.

  “A’ight. Don’t tell me then.”

  “The fairies don’t let anyone up to the top o’ the volcano fer a reason. Respect that. For the time bein’, work on what we discussed. Changin’ the supply chain o’ rare stuffs.”

  “‘My table be yer table, an’ there be enough places for all.”

  The silver scar bisecting Mereg’s eye twitched. “Ye know yer Mountain Sermon. Thought ye stopped with the Great Mother as a kit.”

  “Chapter 2, line 3, to be precise. Still carry me a primer.”

  “Red cover?”

  “Nay, green cover.”

  “A first edition? Don’t be tellin’ Helet ye have the liberal interpretation. Ye’ll never hear the end o’ it.”

  “Don’t I know that.” Cinrak whistled up a crew member to check the veracity of one of the bow lines to avoid her mentor’s gaze. She would miss having Mereg at her side for an adventure of this importance, but Mereg was making the best of their balance infirmity as a full time ambassador of the International Rodent Aquatic Trade Entente and troublemaker to the queen’s court. You could take the pirate off the ocean, but you could never take away their salt.

  With a rush of excited air, Benj was at his captain’s side again. “The Royal Inspector is ready to sign off, cap’n. No weather magicians secreted aboard here. ‘Cept yerself.”

  Mereg grunted a laugh. At least they could see the dry humour in this IRATE rule. They grasped Benj’s shoulder before he could vibrate out of existence.

  “That matron might be makin’ trouble for ye, young ‘un,” they said, warm tone sending a tingle of memory through Cinrak. “But remember ye got yer family. Trust yer crew.”

  Benj beamed, enjoying the praise from his grand-mentor. He switched that glowing beam to his captain. “Is what you said true? I’m really promoted?”

  “Ye deserve it, lad. Ye worked hard.”

  “Does this mean I’m giving up my attendance duties?” Suddenly, Benj looked far too young for the star-turns he’d spent at her side.

  Cinrak clasped his other shoulder, forging him as the bridge between her and her mentor. “Not if ye don’t want to, lad. Will take me a while to find a new cabin kit. Ye’ll be hard to replace.”

  “Understood, cap’n. And I can do double duty!” He saluted, then he was off again.

  “He be a wonderful wee squiddy. Gonna have a time a’tween him an’ Helet! Have fun.” Mereg’s cane tapped the cobbles as they limped away.

  Cinrak straightened her bow tie as she struggled to straighten her attitude. Deepest Depths, what was she going to do with that contumacious capybara?

  Hair. Golden copper auburn glimmering in the early morning sunshine, a river streaming to the tide’s edge from the face of Covetona along an ancient cut in the jungle.

  And the face was indeed a face.

  Volcano vents near the island’s peak formed a pattern of eyes winking with lava, nose snorting steam, and a mouth from which the Beard originated. The whole crew exclaimed in amazement and delight at the natural wonder, while Benj zoomed around the deck.

  Despite the tropical warmth, Cinrak shivered. The South Wind’s ice had melted from her fur, but exhaustion made stones of her bones. The notoriously cantankerous South Wind had to be fussed into turning its attention to the Impolite Fortune with promises of a positive depiction in the Epic that would be written about the adventure.

  It wouldn’t be a southerly without icy storms, but the South Wind had been impressed by Cinrak’s gumption and tenacity, giving them a good head start. The trailing fleet of union and non-IRATE ships were left to catch the scraps of wind off the sheer mountains that rose along the northern coast which pointed toward the Unknown Ocean, knuckles breaking up into the fiery islands of which Covetona was one.

  An Ahoy.

  “Cap’n!” Riddle pointed to the beach. “A friend appears!”

  Benj rushed to the railing, squinting at the blue shape waiting patiently at the edge of the sand. “A wild fairy! Take me with you, captain, let me ask them straight!”

  “Nay, lad. I have ta go alone. Them’s the rules.” Cinrak gave him the smile that worked on all the crew.

  “Hmph, pirate rules. They don’t usually hold much water.” Helet squinted across the morning-bright water.

  Cinrak’s face ached as she held her smile in place. She and her old guardian had bickered all the way. Helet continued to speak to her as if she was still her orphan charge. To the rest of the crew, the snipes and jibes may have been meaningless, what any family engaged in. But Helet only gave lip service to the concept of family. Cinrak had long ago learned to judge Helet’s mood by the intake of breath, the length of silence between answers, the heaviness of paw step, or how long she took at morning prayers.

  Cinrak was about to explain for the fifth time that only she had permission to land via Mereg’s letter of introduction when a thrash of water and a loud cronch erupted. Agnes had found her breakfast. Helet gagged.

  Benj smirked at his captain. He’d been far more polite to the matron than she deserved as she fumbled constantly over his name, eventually settling on ‘lad’ though it sounded bitter on her tongue.

  As Cinrak approached the shore, the fairy’s shape resolved into something spectacular: big bug-out eyes, impressive crystal-like wings, body and hair woven with flowers and leaves, sharp teeth, and a soft blue glow. According to Mereg’s notes, a passel of fairies would be waiting just beyond the treeline for any hint of malfeasance. The recalcitrant fairies were protective of their land. Many failed Beard expeditions were noted in bloody detail.

  As soon as the sculler crunched onto the sand, the fairy stepped forward, hand extended.

  “Greets. Welcome to Covetona. I am Xit.” The fairy spoke an old dialect without gender signifiers.

  They shook, civil style.

  “Cinrak the Dapper, o’ the Impolite Fortune. Pleased ta be makin’ yer acquaintance.”

  “Aoh. You are folk o’ Mereg. They told me about you.” Xit offered a huge closed-mouth smile. A good sign. “They are good folk. We hope you only takin’ the hair you need, and nothin’ else.”

  Straight to it. The bluntness cheered Cinrak. She was tired from days of Helet’s waffly proclamations about the Great Mother and heathen spirits.

  “Aye, I miss Mereg too. They send me with many greets. I honour ye an’ the land ye allow me ta step upons.” Cinrak gave a little bow, paw to chest. “We only be takin’ o’ the Beard what it allows. We be understandin’ the volcano be a dangerous place and we only follow the path ye s
et for us.”

  Xit’s glow softened further and they swept an arm in invitation. Cinrak’s heavy bones lightened a little as the fairy led to the way to the Beard. “Aoh. We are glad you came quick. There is more’n we can harvest on our own. It is thick growth this season.”

  “Others follow.”

  “Aoh. Always the way.” Xit blinked those big bug eyes at the ship resting in the bay, and their smile crinkled up again at the sight of a frolicking Agnes. “First come, first take. Everyone gets their fair share, includin’ the island.”

  They negotiated time upon the island (not long), numbers of crew (not too many), amount to harvest (just enough), and how far from the Beard they could move (not far). Compared to the lush jungle on either side, the cut’s greenery looked only a couple dozen star-turns old. The harvest of the Beard was required so as not to unbalance the life cycle of the jungle. Too little, and the fecundity created by the rotting mass of hair would strangle the fairies’ food sources, hamper wildlife, and reduce access to parts of the island. Too much, and the land would lose a vital nutrient source.

  “The final things,” Cinrak said as she signalled the ship with flags, Agnes gaily mirroring the movements. “First, I be havin’ a young ‘un eager for their beard. The other—” Cinrak searched for the right words. Best to be blunt. “An old friend wants permission to come ashore. Ye might remember her. Helet.”

  Xit gave Cinrak a slow once over. Usually that cool vigor would strip her fur right back. But Xit had a something about them. Cinrak’s capybara chill said: friend.

  “Aoh. We remember the penitent. Covetona wouldn’t let you ashore if they didn’t trust you.” Xit spoke as if the island was alive.

  “Ye have me word, as captain, as part o’ IRATE, an’ as a capybara, that’ll I keep ‘em in check.”

  Xit’s showed a little more of their sharp teeth. “An’ we appreciate it.”

  The hackles on Cinrak’s neck rustled; her salty blood doing its duty. Xit meant more than their fellow fairies when they spoke of the nebulous ‘we’. What secrets did Covetona hold close to its magma heart?

  The thump of a book on Cinrak’s snout startled her awake. It had only been a moment since she’d put her head down, surely. The laughing calls of the crew, the huff-shick of blades, the wash-hush of the ocean, and warm sand had all blended into a comfortable blanket of sleep.

  “Aoh. Cinrak”.

  She twitched her ears free of sand and blinked up at the sky. How did it get so black and prickled with diamonds?

  “Cinrak. We have a problem.”

  Xit sat cross-legged and cross faced at the bottom of her blanket, their blue glow a cut-out shape in the darkness.

  Cinrak snapped fully awake, brushing aside the Great Capybara Mother’s words from her dream. Something from the Book of Waters about Her Great Journey had woven around the ocean and the jungle and the glowing, growing face of the mountain, until she had almost touched the words before her.

  Her gaze shot to Benj’s bed roll and Helet’s tent.

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Steamin’ Piles o’ Squiddy Poop!” cursed Cinrak. She closed her eyes and scratched her nose. “What ye needin’ me to do?”

  Xit looked up at the face of the volcano as if searching for inspiration. After a moment, their hair twigs clacked with a single, forceful nod. “Grab your walkin’ gear.”

  “Yer...takin’ me. Up there?”

  “Nothin’ for it. Must find them a’fore...they do too much damage.” Xit was already walking towards the dark tree line. “Be quick.”

  That afternoon, the crew had settled into their work efficiently. Agnes was doing laps around the island, playing with the dolphins, tossing them with her huge tentacles, and making them squee with delight.

  Benj had been too excited to stick to one job, so Cinrak let him ‘oversee’ grading of the hair. She couldn’t help but chuckle as he ran between harvesting teams, managing the cuts of perfect length, fondling and sniffing the hair, trying and failing to get it to stick to his face.

  Helet had set up a small tent, surrounding herself with books, and strangely stayed silent. When she had turned in from first watch, Cinrak instructed Riddle to keep a keen eye on them both.

  A mortified Riddle pulled her patch over her good eye as Cinrak reported the trouble. “I be sorry, Cap’n. Thinkin’ Benj had finally wound down. An’ Helet been so good, if not so good, if ya know what I mean. Stayin’ out from under claw, but not liftin’ a paw to help. I enjoyed the moment of glorious peace too well.”

  “It be fine, friend. When someone be determined, they determined. Jus’ keep that tea on the simmer, and your attentions up for the night. If anyone be askin’, we went back to the ship. Don’t need anyone else gettin’ foolish ideas.”

  The fist of the jungle closed around Cinrak as she joined Xit, humidity squeezing her chest. The fairy paused to communicate with the trees in a low, complicated whistle. After a moment of listening, Xit beckoned her forward into the twisting dark.

  “Why you lettin’ me in?” Cinrak asked. “Thought ye ‘n yers would be able to collect up me wanderers.”

  “Paths come from many directions and the jungle lets you walk with me awhile,” Xit said as they concentrated on their steps.

  Cinrak flinched. “I just been readin’ something to that effect.”

  “Aoh?”

  “‘The intersection o’ our paths holds fast our steps an’ allows us to carry those who cannot’. Book o’ the Waters, chapter five, line seventeen.”

  “You know your Great Capybara Mother’s words.” Was that a smirk in Xit’s voice? Cinrak couldn’t tell through the gloom and glow.

  “An’ ye know them. What do the fairies o’ Covetona need with the Mother’s words?” A vine caught Cinrak in the face and she slapped it away with a little yelp.

  “What do we need with any o’ the words o’ the world?” Xit spoke light, and Cinrak cursed her ocean-strong lungs. Already she was out of breath from the climb and elevation. “We are curious. We are not cut off like you think us to be. Would be against our best interest not to know the ways o’ the world.”

  As they trudged through the thick jungle, they argued the merits of the common red Mother’s primer versus the liberal green and the little known blue used by a conservative splinter faction. After a while, Cinrak realized it was Xit’s way of making noise, to alert the jungle and their extended tribe of their passing, and reach the ears of the missing party members without running themselves annoyed and hoarse.

  As the moons came up, Cinrak started seeing the minute movements and inhabitants of the jungle. Colourful insects and lizards came out to feed on sap and each other. Leaf litter shivered with slithery things paying the searchers no mind. Birds and small monkeys watched them pass by. Even in the dark there were so many shades of green to enjoy.

  Old twinges reminded Cinrak this was the way her ancestors used to live. A lively mountain meant geothermal activity. If there were hot pools higher up, Rodentdom’s scientethicalists could speculate capybara life might have grown from here. It made a weird sense for Helet to link the Great Mother to the island.

  Thoughts of Helet brought Cinrak down again. Helet had embarrassed her in front of the crew and Xit. Her guardian had preached against defiance, so it ached Cinrak’s bones aplenty Helet didn’t practise what she preached.

  Xit read the scrunch of Cinrak’s furry cheeks. “I understand why Helet be curious. I remember how she spoke of the mountain like it belonged to her. But a scarper seems unlike that young ‘un Benj.”

  “Benj be a good boy, I promisin’.” Cinrak peered up at the glow from the mountain’s face. “He eager to find a part o’ himself. Just hasn’t learned growth be patience.”

  The moss of Xit’s eyebrows matted together. “You are using those—” they mumbled to themself and switched to New Fairy. “—words o’ gender.”

  Checking a tree trunk was bitey free, Cinrak leaned and sipped from her
canteen. “Aye. The world didn’t fit Benj the way he was made, so he makin’ himself a man. He be wantin’ a beard, and he thinkin’ he needs to break off just the right bit o’ the mountain.”

  “Aoh!” Xit said, understanding making their glow shine brighter. “They were one o’ yer—” Mumble. “—genders, an’ is now another. Fairy nuff.”

  Cinrak chuckled. Xit made good puns.

  Xit continued, “They still broke them rules, though. Up to the mountain what happens, aoh.”

  Cinrak almost choked on the lukewarm water. The magma better not be thinking of swallowing him up.

  They pushed on in silence which grew thick as an oncoming storm, a barely heard rumble beneath her paws.

  The night thickened further into a fog, causing Cinrak to watch every step carefully. Everything hurt and each breath tasted of sharp minerals cutting through the loam.

  “Uh, Xit? I can’t be seein’ anything in this fog. Don’t ye think we shoulda found ‘em by now. Ya know, yer, err, friends, an’ everythin’?”

  “They be fine.”

  “Xit! Wait!”

  The blue blob bobbed their head. “Ye be lucky. The mountain has called ye.”

  “A’ight.” Cinrak stopped, panting. Even a capybara had limits to their patience. “I bein’...as understandin’ as possible. This be...yer land. I only...a visitor, by yer grace. But help me out here. What is it...with ye fairies...an’ yer mountain. Like it alive. Like it yer family.”

  “That be an excellent analogy.” A deep voice like rum and charcoal wove out of the fog. “Many paths lead to the mountain, and it is upon us to sit with its wisdom.”

  Cinrak’s ears twitched attempting to locate the speaker. The voice came from everywhere, as if the whole mountain spoke.

  “In Her Pawsteps, one-thirteen,” Cinrak breathed.