High druid of Shannara_ Jarka Ruus - Terry Brooks [93]
“Then what does it matter if I talk to them?”
“It matters in ways you don’t understand because you are still a child. You must listen to me. Be pleasant to them. Be helpful when it is needed. But do not go out of your way to speak to them. That is a direct order, sailor.”
There was silence after that. Pen remained standing where he was, listening. He wanted to peek outside, but he was afraid that if he did, he would be seen. The moon was three-quarters full and the sky clear. There was too much light to take a chance. He wondered what was going on up there that he wasn’t supposed to see. As far as he could tell from what he was hearing, nothing at all.
“I’m going below to sleep for a few hours,” Hatch announced suddenly. “You take the helm, Cinnaminson. Keep her on course, no deviations. There’s no weather on the horizon, so the sail should be smooth enough. You know what to do. Come get me if there’s trouble. Good girl. I’ll come back before dawn.”
Pen retreated down the steps as swiftly as he could manage, reached his cabin and stepped inside. He stood with his back against the door and listened as Gar Hatch trudged past toward the Captain’s quarters. The Rover’s footsteps receded, a door opened and closed, and everything was silent again save Tagwen’s snoring.
For a moment, Pen determined to go topside again. But he was nervous about it now, afraid that Hatch might come back and catch him. What had he said? You take the helm, Cinnaminson? How could she do that if she was blind? Was she up there all alone, steering the airship and charting their course when she couldn’t see? That didn’t seem possible, and yet...
He stood awhile longer, debating what to do. In the end, he went back to bed. Khyber was right. It was none of his business, and he shouldn’t mix in it. Ahren wouldn’t like it if he jeopardized their safety through his interference. He couldn’t afford to antagonize Hatch while they depended on him.
Perhaps, he thought, he would just ask Cinnaminson the next time he saw her. If she would speak to him, that was.
He went back to bed to think about it some more and was asleep in moments.
Chapter SEVENTEEN
They flew north out of the Westland, then turned east across the Streleheim Plains down the corridor that lay between the Dragon’s Teeth and the Knife Edge Mountains. It was a shipping lane used by almost everyone traveling west and east above Callahorn, and they passed other airships at regular intervals. The weather remained good, the skies clear and calm, the days warm and dry, the nights deep and cool, and there were no more storms. The Skatelow kept a steady pace, but not a fast one, staying low and hugging the forest line above Paranor. She sailed at night as well as during the day, and Gar Hatch put her down only twice in three days for fresh water and brief repairs. Pen spoke with Cinnaminson every day, several times a day, and there was no indication from her behavior that she was trying to avoid him. In fact, she seemed eager to search him out, although she never did so in a way that suggested she was disobeying her father’s wishes. Pen, for his part, tried to make their meetings seem to those who might observe to be about something other than their growing friendship. But he didn’t even try to pretend to her that he wasn’t interested. He was captivated, and even at his young age he could not mistake what he was feeling for her. He was excited just at the prospect of seeing her, and every day brought new opportunities to do so. He looked forward to those moments with an anticipation that made him ache.
But he never asked her about that first night. The more he thought about doing so, the less comfortable he felt. In the first place, he had been spying on her, and he didn’t want her to know that. Nor could he think of a way to broach the subject without seeming to pry. It wasn’t his place to ask her what she was doing for her father. At best, it would make her uncomfortable because anything she told him would be a